Then the little wooden gate was fastened with a padlock, as every gate must be when the payer for water had received from the Zanjero's deputy the amount of water paid for, whether by the fifty-cent-hour, or the two-dollar-day, or the dollar-and-a-quarter night rate, and whoever unauthorized should unfasten the padlock and open the gate would be a thief of water.
After witnessing the shutting off of the water, Joseph carried his paper-enfolded loaf to the house of this second regular customer, and then the children turned homeward toward the panaderia.
"Pan por dinero!" cried the parrot, Papagayo, when Rosa and Joseph reentered the panaderia; but alas! no customers were there.

Only the grandmother sat sewing behind the counter, her blurred old eyes close to the cloth she held.
"I will take care of the panaderia now, grandmother," Rosa offered; and the grandmother answered, "I will rest a little, then." The poor, dear grandmother! She was so tired and thin, nowadays, and her hands trembled so much! It was hard for her to try to sew.

If the panaderia paid better, if there were more regular customers to whom Rosa and Joseph could carry eatables, then the grandmother would not attempt sewing at all, for it strained her eyes very much.
But now she did not know what else to do.

There must be a living for herself and the children someway.
Rosa found the afternoon long, sitting behind the counter, waiting for customers and trying to sew.

A little boy came in and bought a loaf.