Suddenly Katherina’s face turned from its ashen pallor to a live red. Oh, yes! Yes! She would! Why not? She would do it, yes, she would! Or why would it have come into her head? Could it be that the Sacred Mother had not forgotten her? She sat a moment staring stupidly, then rose quickly, elbowed her way to her husband and stood at his side. “Natalka’s portion?” Simyonka’s father clamored with piggish persistence. His voice rose to a squeal. Katherina bent over Gavrelo and whispered. “Say Parshuchuck.” “Parshuchuck,” Gavrelo repeated, and looked up at her as though he were trying to recognize her. “Natalka’s portion a pig!” the father-in-law called out to the guests. “And Chulka,” Katherina again whispered to her husband. Gavrelo stared at her doubtfully, but repeated “Chulka.” “And the large field of wheat,” Katherina urged hoarsely. “Wheat!” repeated Gavrelo. His head fell forward and his mouth dripped water. “Three pishes!” Simyonka’s father bawled out. “Three pieces!” It was repeated around the yard. “Simyonka! You lucky hound!” a young man shrieked. All were now staring, eyes bleared, at the three. Natalka came over to her mother. Her face looked white and scared. “_Matushka!_” she exclaimed, “what have you done?” And Katherina suddenly realized that Natalka had known all along that her father would give her nothing. “It is all right,” Katherina said. “Go dance. Go. But tell Simyonka to come and fetch his father-in-law to a cool place. And Natalka--you better tell Simyonka to take the pig and the heifer tonight. The wheat you will get in the fall.” “But, _Matushka_----” “It is all right, Natalka. You know your father is a man of his word. Go dance.” A few minutes later Gavrelo lay stretched on a bench in the cool, dim outhouse. Natalka and Simyonka were congratulated on their generous portion. New quadrilles were formed, a new jig was being danced. Katherina went back and sat among her guests. And as she clapped her hands for the dancers she wondered, “And what about the morrow? Will he think he did it of his own accord, or will he remember?” But what mattered the morrow? Just now Anulia Addom was screaming into her grandmother’s deaf ear: “Natalka received three things, _Babushka_; you hear me, three things!” And Katherina clapped. “Trala-lala-lala-lala.” “Ach, they were wise after all, those men,” she thought; “they were wise who said that it is better to have a relative rich though a miser than one who is poor and generous. The miser, sooner or later, in one way or another, you may overcome. It is poverty that is like unto death.” [8] Copyright, 1922, by The Pictorial Review Company. Copyright, 1923, by Rose Gollup Cohen. THE SHAME OF GOLD[9] By CHARLES J. FINGER (From _The Century_)