“We were wondering if you'd like to move in with one of us. It's true we don't have much room ourselves,”
“and most of us already have a horde of children to feed, but we reckon one more won't make any difference. What do you say?”
“Thank you,” Momo said, smiling for the first time. “Thank you very much, but couldn't you just let me go on living here?”
After much deliberation, the others finally agreed. It occurred to them that she would be just as well off here as with one of them.
So they decided to look after Momo together. It would be easier, in any case, for all of them to do so than for one of them alone.
They made an immediate start by spring-cleaning Momo's dilapidated dungeon and refurbishing it as best they could.
One of them, a bricklayer by trade, built her a miniature cooking stove and produced a rusty stovepipe to go with it.
The old man, who was a carpenter, nailed together a little table and two chairs out of some packing cases.
As for the womenfolk, they brought along a decrepit iron bedstead adorned with curlicues,
a mattress with only a few rents in it, and a couple of blankets.
The stone cell beneath the stage of the ruined amphitheater became a snug little room.
The bricklayer, who fancied himself as an artist, added the finishing touch by painting a pretty flower picture on the wall.
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