What would he say to him? Supposing he found something bad? Supposing he did not give him work? These were the questions which passed through his mind and which he could not answer, although he knew his book only spoke well of him, and that the master required a workman because it was autumn when business is in full swing. A great burden seemed lifted from him at the master's words: "Good, I will engage you. How much did you get from your late master?" "I worked for him for four years and had a salary." "What a lot of talk! We will give you one and a half florins per week without washing, and you can stay, though probably in the army you have forgotten all you knew about work," the mistress broke into the conversation, as she rose from the table. It was the signal for the two workmen and the apprentice to return to their work. Sandu stood transfixed. Only the master and a child of six or seven years of age remained in the house, as the girl and the mistress went into the passage to see to the dinner things. "Well, do you agree? Will you stay or not?" scolded the mistress as she appeared in the doorway. "I will stay," replied Sandu, scarcely knowing what he said. The master looked at her, and turned to Sandu. "Have you had your dinner?" "Did he come for you to feed him," his wife interrupted him. "Woman, you----" The mistress threw him a look full of meaning, and disappeared into the yard. "You can start work to-morrow." Sandu turned and went out after the master; they walked side by side. When they reached the yard gate they stopped. The master would have liked to say something about the pay. One and a half florins a week seemed so very little to him, but Sandu was simple and glad to get work, and he did not ask for much. "Master, I will go now. Good luck to you!" "Good luck to you!" replied the master, and he seemed as though he would like to call him back and say another word to him. In rather over a month Sandu had had time to get back into his old ways, and to work hopefully at his trade, but during this time he had, little by little, come to see that in his master's house the cock by no means ruled the roost. Sharp-tongued and ill-tempered, Mistress Veta was often dissatisfied with the work. Now it was because the skins had not come out of the vat yellow enough, and had not enough creases; now it was because a range of skins needed mending as the workmen had not been sufficiently careful; and so on and so on, always hard words for the workmen who worked eagerly and with all their might that the skins might be well tanned, and the mistress have no chance to grumble.