To-day she went to bed early, because to-morrow is fair-day in a neighboring town, and she will have to be astir betimes in order to drive there with the grease. But she lies uneasy--there is trouble and worry in store. She had arranged with the driver to take her, Freude, and the _small_ barrel, and now, just as she was going to sleep, it occurred to her that it would be better to take the big one. She tosses from side to side on her couch. "Plague take a woman's tongue!" she mutters then, exclaiming against herself: "The _small_ barrel! Whatever for? To please the driver? Driver be blessed! Can't he give his horses a few more oats for once?" Grumbling thus over the stupidity of a woman's tongue, she has just managed to doze off. From beneath the counterpane appears a red kerchief that falls dangling round about her face and her pointed red and blue nose. She breathes heavily, and presses one bony hand to her old heart. Who knows what she is dreaming? Perhaps that the driver has broken his word, and she is left for a whole year without Parnosseh. The opposite corner belongs to Yoneh the water-carrier. The wife and two children sleep in one bed, and Yoneh with the elder Cheder boy in another. Now and then a sigh issues from the beds. Here also people have lain down in sorrow. The little Cheder boy has been crying for money to pay the rabbi his fee. And the eldest daughter was left without a situation. She had been doing well, as servant to a couple without children. Suddenly her mistress died. So she came home--she could not stay on alone with the widower. There were a few rubles owing to her in wages--they would have been just enough to pay the rabbi--but the widower says it is no concern of his, his wife never mentioned it, and he doesn't know--he never mixes himself up with the affairs of women. They quarrelled a little before going to sleep. The mother advised going to the Jewish court, the daughter was in favor of writing a petition either to the _natchàlnik_[1] or to the _mirovòi_.[139] Yoneh will not hear of doing one or the other. The widower will take his revenge, and get Yoneh a bad name among the householders: "He has only to snap his fingers and there's an end of me!" How many water-carriers are there already loafing about with nothing to do since they started the new water-supply? Beril, the porter, all by himself in an upper bed, is snoring away like a broken-winded horse. The two children sleep together in another place. His wife is a cook, and this evening she has a wedding supper on hand. Here, too, rest is broken. Beril has an ache going through his bones, one after the other, and the eldest son sighs frequently in his sleep. He works in a lime-kiln and has burnt his foot. Further on lies another snorer alone in a bed: Tzirel, the street-seller. In the second bed sleep all three children. Her husband is a watchman. No sooner has _he_ come in than _she_ will go out, with bread and fresh rolls.