She looked in at the Koziols’, Bartek being distantly related to her. No one was in; but the three little children that Kozlova had just brought with her from Warsaw, sat outside the cabin, huddled together, greedily devouring some half-boiled potatoes, defending their food from the pigs with their spoons, and crying out at them. They were so wretched, so miserably neglected, so filthily dirty, that her heart pitied them, and she took them into the passage, and shut them in from their foes; then she ran off to tell the news. At the Golabs’, there was no one but Nastka. Matthew had, before breakfast, gone over to Staho (Bylitsa’s son-in-law) to look over the ruined hut and see if anything could be done with it. The old man, too, was with him, now and then stammering a word or two. Mr. Yacek, sitting as usual at the threshold, smoked a cigarette and whistled to the doves that circled about over the cherry-trees. Noontide was not far off. The heated air was quivering over the fields like rippling water; the fields and orchard-grounds basked delightedly in the sunbeams; now and again, a blossom fell from Bylitsa’s cherry-trees, flickering down like a white little butterfly. It was well past noon when Matthew had finished his examination. While still poking the timbers here and there, he gave sentence: “’Tis all rotten wood, crumbling to dust: ye can build nothing with it. Quite useless.” “Perchance,” Staho said anxiously, “I might buy some new timber, and then....” “Ye’d require timber for a whole cabin. Not one beam here is fit for aught.” “Gracious heavens!” “But the lower beams may hold yet,” old Bylitsa faltered; “we should only have to get new upper timbers, and clamp the woodwork together and prop it up.” “Then do so, if ye be so clever! I do not build with touchwood!” he retorted, putting on his coat. Here Veronka, lamenting bitterly, and holding a child in her arms, came on the scene. “What, alas! what shall we do now?” “A new hut,” said Staho in sore distress, “would cost about two thousand roubles.—Yet we might get some timber from our forest; and I could manage for the rest.... An application to the Government Board....” “But the forest is now in the hands of the law court: what timber would they give us just now? Why, we are even forbidden to gather wood there for fuel! Wait till a sentence is given, and then build!” was Matthew’s advice. “Indeed! Very fine!—And where shall we dwell this winter, I ask?” said Veronka, with a fresh burst of tears. No more was said. Matthew put his tools together, while Staho scratched his head, and Bylitsa blew his nose round the corner. In that moment, Mr. Yacek stood up, and raising his voice: “Weep not, Veronka,” he said; “the timber for your cabin shall be found!” All stood open-mouthed, lost in amazement; till Matthew, recovering himself first, burst out with a loud guffaw.