The old soldier was going on leave. I'm tired on the way, I'm hungry. I reached the village, knocked on the last hut:

- Let the road person rest! An old woman opened the door.

- Come in, soldier.

"Don't you have something to eat, mistress?" The old woman has plenty of everything, but she was stingy to feed the soldier, pretended to be an orphan.

- Oh, good man, I haven't eaten anything myself today yet: there's nothing.

- Well, no, no, - the soldier says. Then he noticed an axe under the bench.

- If there is nothing else, you can cook porridge from an axe.

The hostess threw up her hands:

- How to cook porridge from an axe?

- Here's how, give me the cauldron.

The old woman brought the cauldron, the soldier washed the axe, lowered it into the cauldron, poured water and put it on the fire.

The old woman looks at the soldier, does not take her eyes off.

The soldier took out a spoon, stirring the brew. I tried it.

- Well, how? - the old woman asks.

- It will be ready soon, - the soldier replies, - it's just a pity that there is nothing to salt with.

- I have some salt, salt it.

The soldier salted, tried again.

- Good! If only here and a handful of cereals! The old woman fussed, brought a bag of cereals from somewhere.

- Take it, fill it up as needed. I filled the brew with grits. Boiled, boiled, stirred, tasted. The old woman looks at the soldier with all her eyes, she can't tear herself away.

- Oh, and the porridge is good! The soldier licked his lips.- As if here and a little butter - it would be absolutely delicious.

The old woman also had butter.