“Yes, come to us!” he said, and would have made more inquiries; but, though it was late, people were still about; moreover, the boy, a feather-headed fellow, might blab and let things out. So he walked on swiftly, looking round when near the church to see if he was watched, and then turned aside, taking a path that ran by the granaries. Vitek meanwhile made for the cabin. Boryna had not come yet: the family room was in shadow, save for the brands which glowed dully on the hearth. Yagna was preparing the evening meal, and in evil humour; for Yuzka had gone off again somewhere, and there was so much to do, one did not know what to begin first. She gave no heed to what Vitek said, until he mentioned Antek’s name; it arrested her attention and she paused in her work. “Tell no one that he gave you money!” “Since mistress forbids me, I’ll not breathe a word of it!” “Here are five kopeks more, for you to remember.—Did he go home?” Without waiting for an answer, she suddenly ran out into the porch, calling for Pete, whilst she peered into the orchard and court-yard, with searching, yet frightened glances. She even went out to look beyond the shed and about the haystack. No one was there.... This quieted her, but also tried her patience. She rated Yuzka for not having given the cows their drink, and for her continual idleness; to which the little girl, being bold and fierce and by no means tongue-tied, was not slow to answer back. And they had a quarrel, each saying very sharp things. “Gabble, gabble your fill! your father is coming, and his strap will silence you!” she threatened her, lighting the lamp, and taking up her spinning again. Yuzka went on grumbling, but no one replied to her; Yagna had just heard, she thought, someone passing outside the corner window. “Vitek, look outside; I think that one of our swine has got out of the sty and is in the orchard now.” But he assured her he had driven them all in and made the door fast. Yuzka went to the other side of the hut and brought tubs, Pete helping her, for the cows to drink from; then she ran for the milking-pails. “I myself shall milk them; after so much labour, ye need rest.” “Yes, milk them, do! Once more ye will leave the udders half full!” Yuzka snapped at her. “Hold your peace, you had best!” she cried in a fury, as she put her clogs on, tucked up her petticoat, and went to the cow-shed with a couple of pails. Night had fallen, the wind was hushed, the white snow-mist settling down. But the sky above hung black, starless, packed close with small low-lying clouds; the fields loomed a dark grey; an oppressive lull prevailed everywhere. Not a voice was heard in the village, nor any sound but the hammers, beating, clinking, clinking, beating, on the anvil in the forge. In the byre it was close and dark; the kine were drinking the water, and noisily licking, with muffled gurgles, the bottom of the tubs as they emptied them.