"Well, you see, barin, my wife, she used to say 'No! No! No!' to everything I said, and she didn't always stop at that either. No, bless my soul, that she didn't! Now the little barrow never says 'No! No! No!' to me, and it never ups and knocks me down and sits on me." Here a small girl hugging a little slate-blue cat came up, and leaned on the barrow, and looked up at the little old man and lisped, "Won't you give us a ride, little father?" "Ey ey! a ride, little Dushenka? Well, well, get in and I'll give you a ride. How's pussy to-day?" "She doesn't like the mud, little father," and she climbed in, and the old fellow trudged away to an accompaniment of cheery squeaks from the barrow, jingling fetters, and jerky prattle from the little maid. Presently he was back, panting and more cheerful than ever, and the small girl climbed down, still hugging her cat, and said, "Thank you, little father!" and ran off to a gloomy-faced man who stood waiting for her. "Ey, ey!" said the little old man, as he and Pavlof watched her grip the gloomy one's hand and go off with him. "His wife died two days ago, and that's all he's got left. Best off here those who have no wives." "But you are married yourself, from what you were saying," said Pavlof. "I was, barin. The little barrow is my wife now," and he patted the barrow with genuine affection. "And why did you marry the barrow?" "Well, it was this way. My wife--my other wife, you understand--she carried on with another man, and one day I hit him--and so I wear the barrow." "That seems pretty hard lines--just for hitting a man." "Oh, well, I don't know--you see, he died, barin." "And your wife?--your other wife, I mean?" "She is at rest, barin, God be thanked!--and so am I," and he crossed himself devoutly. "We did not get on very well together, you see, because she always would have her own way, and she was bigger than me. Still, she was my wife, and I could not let another man have her. And so--well, she died too. And on the whole I get on better with the barrow than I did with her. It does what I please and says 'Yes! Yes! Yes!' to all I say, and my wife she used to say 'No! No! No!' and do as she pleased. And besides, I can sit on the barrow. It used to be the other way with my wife." "And how much farther have you got to take her?" "Another two thousand miles, barin--all the way to Kara." "And then? Why, you'll be quite sorry to part with her." "Oh, we don't part, barin. I keep her as long as I live, they say. I hope she won't get laid up or crippled in any way. I'd never get to like another one as I do this one. Bless my soul! I never thought of that before. Whatever should I do?" and his cheerful little face grew overcast at the bare thought of it. "You're a very plucky fellow to bear your troubles so lightly," said Pavlof, distinctly cheered by contact with so brave a little soul in so odd a little body and circumstances.