"WE'RE off! Good-by!" cheerily called out four sturdy, red-cheeked girls, early one morning. They were walking in pairs, with bundles in their hands and their shoes slung over their backs. They belonged to some of the poor families of the village, and intended tramping it to the richer plains to work on two of the farms there, where their help would be very welcome and well paid. Each had taken food for the journey; rye bread, bacon, and a cheese called _brindza_, made from sheeps' milk by Slovaks in the mountains. Everybody waved to the girls or had a pleasant word for them as they passed by. When the last house had been reached, their voices rang out sweetly in song. In vain is not thy toil, In vain is not thy faith; The Lord God in the Heavens Gathers all of labor's sweat. And again: Songs, songs, whence come ye? Descended from the heavens Or grown in the woods? Not down from the heavens Nor grown in the woods, But born in the hearts Of maidens and youths. Then the more melancholy strain: My lips are singing, My eyes are smiling, But tears stream from my heart. Ruzena half envied them as she listened. Everybody at her house, except her baby brother and herself, had left for the hay-field to help with the mowing. She had not yet taken the geese to pasture, and as she started off, brother tried to toddle after her. "Come, you may go with me to-day," she said good-naturedly, lifting him up in her strong arms and carrying him to the alleyway. But it is not easy herding geese that try to stray and carrying a heavy baby at the same time. Although the distance was not great, Ruzena found that it was more than she could do. "I must leave you here," she said, panting, and put baby down by the roadside. "Now be good and play and sister will hurry back." Juraj was always good, and although he looked a little wistful, made no complaint. Perhaps he was used to being left in that fashion. He had nothing on his little body except a short shirt; but on his head, according to custom, he had a most elaborately embroidered cap or rather hood. He sat patiently still for a while; then a big black beetle made him struggle to his feet. He reached forward to get it, turned a summersault, and by the time he had straightened himself up, the beetle had disappeared in the grass. Juraj looked around for it and then catching sight of the brook near by, half walked, half crawled to it. There were all sorts of things to interest him here, and, without a moment's hesitation, he walked right into the middle and sat down with something of a thump on the stony bottom. Even then he did not cry, but tried to reach the funny little water insects that scurried so fast everywhere about him. "Juraj, Juraj, why, you're all wet!" exclaimed Ruzena, snatching him up when she returned. Then Juraj for the first time cried, just a plaintive little cry that seemed to ask why he must give up so innocent a pleasure.