Boryna, still breathing threats against him, returned to the cottage and looked into Antek’s quarters. “What!” he cried out on seeing him. “Still abed, and the sun up so long?” “I had to rest. Was tired to death yesterday.” “I am going to the law court. You will bring home the potatoes; and when that work is done, send our people to get litter. You might yourself drive in laths to make the hut a winter coating.”[9] ----- Footnote 9: Polish peasants, in order to keep their huts warmer in winter, put round them a sort of palisade of laths over a yard high, the space between is then stuffed with hay, dry leaves, boughs, etc., often mixed with clay.—_Translator’s Note._ “Do that yourself; there is no wind on our side.” “As you please. I will do my side; and you, Mr. Sluggard, shall freeze.” He slammed the door, and entered his own quarters. The fire was lit and Yuzka was going to milk the cows. “Give me breakfast instantly: I must be off.” “I can’t be in two places, nor do two things at once.” And she went out. “Not one quiet minute! I am forced to curse and fall foul of everybody,” he said to himself, and proceeded to dress in a very vile humour. What everlasting rows with his son, so that at every word each was ready to fly at the other—or worse—to say something that stabbed you like a knife! His ill humour, as he pondered, increased so, that he could not help cursing under his breath, and flinging his boots here and there about the floor. “They ought to obey me, and they don’t. For what reason?” he asked himself. “Because, no doubt, a cudgel, and a good one, is needed to deal with them. I ought long since to have used one. But I did not care to raise a scandal in the village, and could not make up my mind to do that. For I am not a beggarly ploughman; thirty acres are mine. Nor am I of a mean family; Boryna is a well-known name.—But kindness is thrown away upon them!” And then he remembered his son-in-law, the blacksmith, who was setting everyone against him, and continually pressing for a gift of six acres of cornland and one of forest, “willing,” he said, “to wait for the rest.” “That is, till I am dead! Oh, yes,” he thought bitterly, “you will have to wait, fellow! While I live, you’ll not have so much as a smell at my land! You’re too clever by half!” When Yuzka came in from milking, the potatoes were on the boil, and breakfast was soon ready. “Yuzka, you will sell the meat yourself! To-morrow is Sunday, and people know that we have it, so they will be coming. But no credit, mind! Keep the hind quarters for our own eating. You will call in Ambrose to salt and pickle them.” “But the blacksmith too can do that.” “He’ll take his share—the wolf’s share of the sheep!” “But Magda will be hurt. ’Tis our cow; is she to have nothing?” “Then cut off a piece and send it to Magda: but don’t call in the blacksmith.” “Father dear, that’s kind of you!”