Mrs. Ferguson. Part One Mrs. Ferguson's day had a point when she did the chief case — left her eight years old grandson alone and went to bay some milk. This time the boy was all his own and could do everything. Fortunately he was still boy and did nothing — only plaid his toys. Maybe he didn't notice her absence. Several times only. In these times he didn't cry only came to bed and laid on it wait when she came. Mrs. Ferguson was about fifteen, fat and loud woman who loved her grandson very much. She always told everybody that he was clever beyond his years and even could write. She was crazy about him. Almost all her free time she spent with him, just looking as he was playing his toys or chatting with him or doing things like this. All neighbor knew her to be a good grandmother ans ever day heard her unlimited storied about how he lost his toy solider, for example, and didn't cry only began to search it... and found. Once when she was about to left him again, she said to him: “Don't open the door anybody beside me!” The child nodded. She went out on the street, crossed the road and came in a shop on the corner. As usual, she spent about 15 minutes, paid the price, exchanged a few words with her old friend and went back. She was thinking bout a nice dinner she would do when put her hand into her bag to take the key. Her hand went out empty. She examined her bag — in vain. She'd forgot the key in the flat. It was dangerous because her grandson was too small to understand how to open the door by the key. But she didn't lose hope. She knocked neatly. “Hi, Darling, it's me!” There was no answer. She began to nerve. “It's me” she hammered at the door.