The double doors of our front gate were in need of repair. The lower edges and inner corners close to the ground had rusted away as a result of the splashing rainwater. Seeing our neighbors repairing or replacing their doors, mother couldn't help lagging behind. So yesterday I was urged to make a visit of the welder who made our iron doors seventeen years ago. He told me to carry the doors to his shop this morning.

The man is nine years senior to me. Dressed baggily, he's thin, big-eyed, with dim and hollow cheeks. He looks good-natured. He's always seen occupied whenever I pass his shop.    

It took him about two hours to finish the job. He charged me￥90 for the mending. This was quite beyond what I assumed. But I paid him the sum he demanded without any objection. When I returned brother his tricycle with which I took the doors to and from the welder, he thought it too costly. He had suggested me to bargain over the price before mending. He concluded it would be worth ￥50 at most. Back at home mother deemed the price reasonable, however. She said the materials used in mending did not cost much. But it was no wonder that the service and the time spent were expensive.