his pajamas. Instead he sat at the desk and stared out the window. In the morning, he reportedto his job at the Dewey Library. He also opened a bank account, rented a post-office box, andbought a plastic bowl and a spoon. He went to the supermarket, wandering up and down theaisles, and comparing prices with those in England and in the end, bought a carton of milk anda box of cornflakes.Doing all these things was really new to him, and in a week he had adjusted, more or less. Heate cornflakes and milk morning and night, and bought some bananas for variety. Despite of the uneasiness in his environment, he resolved to stay at the Y.M.C.A. for six weeks, until hiswife's passport and green card were ready. Once she arrived he would have to rent a properapartment, and from time to time he studied the classified section of the newspaper, orstopped in at the housing office at M.I.T. during his lunch break to see what was available. Itwas in this manner that he discovered a room for immediate occupancy, in a house on a quietstreet, the listing said, for eight dollars per week. He dialed the number from a pay telephone,and to his luck, he was able to avail the room for the landlady only accepts boys from Harvardor Tech.He was given an address and an appointment for seven o'clock that evening. Thirty minutesbefore the hour he set out. He turned down a street shaded with trees, perpendicular toMassachusetts Avenue. In spite of the heat he wore a coat and tie, regarding the event as hewould any other interview; he had never lived in the home of a person who was not Indian. The house was owned by a tiny, extremely old woman. A mass of snowy hair was arranged likea small sack on top of her head. As he stepped into the house she sat down on a wooden benchpositioned at the bottom of a narrow carpeted staircase. Once she was settled on the bench, ina small pool of light, she peered up at me, giving me her undivided attention. She wore a longblack skirt that spread like a stiff tent to the floor, and a starched white shirt edged with rufflesat the throat and cuffs. Her hands, folded together in her lap, had long pallid fingers, withswollen knuckles and tough yellow nails. Age had battered her features so that she almostresembled a man, with sharp, shrunken eyes and prominent creases on either side of her nose.Her lips, chapped and faded, had nearly disappeared, and her eyebrows were missingaltogether. Nevertheless she looked fierce.His encounter with the landlady had become a daily routine between him and the mysteriouswoman. He knew nothing about the lady’s past, but then he felt somewhat comfortable livingwith the old non-Indian lady, until he knew that this old woman had been alive for already 103years. When he knew that fact, he started to care and worry for the old woman, as hewondered how could that old woman live with herself alone when in fact she is already 103years old? That evening, when Helen had gone and he and Mrs. Croft were alone again, he began to worry.Now that he knew how very old she was, he worried that something would happen to her in themiddle of the night, or when he was out during the day. As vigorous as her voice was, andimperious as she seemed, he knew that even a scratch or a cough could kill a person that old;each day she lived, he knew, was something of a miracle. Helen didn't seem concerned. Shecame and went, bringing soup for Mrs. Croft, one Sunday after the next.In this manner the six weeks of that summer passed. He came home each evening, after hishours at the library, and spent a few minutes on the piano bench with Mrs. Croft. Someevenings he sat beside her long after she had drifted off to sleep, still in awe of how many yearsshe had spent on this earth.