Children were crowding outside in the passage, and more and more little heads came peeping into the room; so the Voyt flung a handful of caramels out into the yard to them, for which they had many a scramble and fight. “Why, even Ambrose has lost his tongue,” Yagustynka said, being the first to speak. “Ah, he is thinking of a farm for our man-child to run ... and a girl for him to court!” “To find the land is the father’s business: to find the girl be ours,” said the godfather. “Of them there is no lack at all. They are thrown at your heads, with a dowry besides for the one ye may choose!” “I fancy the Voyt’s wife is thinking of another child: I saw her the other day airing her dead babe’s clothes on the hedgerow.” “Belike the Voyt has promised her a christening in autumn.” “And, being such an able official, has surely not forgotten the needful for its fulfilment.” “Oh, yes,” he answered gravely; “to be cheerful, a cabin must have a racket of children!” “They do indeed give much trouble, but are pledges of hope and comfort.” “Very fine!” growled Yagustynka.—“But even gold may be bought too dear!” “True, some children are evil, and set their parents at naught. But ’tis a hard law: ‘As the dam is, so the lamb is’; and ‘one reaps what one has sown,’” Dominikova replied. Yagustynka, feeling the application of the words to herself, was infuriated. “Ye may well jeer at others, having such gentle boys, who spin and milk and wash the pots as well as the best-trained wench.” “Because they have been bred up in the right way—the way of obedience.” “And they are as like their father as any picture—even to offering their cheeks to the smiter! Aye, ‘as the dam is, so the lamb is’: ye have spoken truly. And I remember your deeds with the lads in your young days: small wonder, then, that Yagna goes your way, and imitates you so well. If,” she hissed in her ear, “a wooden post—topped with a man’s hat, set on it jauntily—should ask her, she were too good-natured to say No!” Dominikova turned deadly pale and bowed her head down as the words were spat forth. Just then Yagna was going through the passage. Hanka called her in to take a drink. She complied, but, without even glancing at anyone, went out and into her own rooms. The Voyt awaited her return, but in vain, and was visibly disappointed. He had little more to say to the others; and when she came out again and went into the court-yard, his eyes wandered stealthily after her. The talk began to flag. The two older ones sat glowering and glaring at each other, while Ploshkova whispered something in Hanka’s ear. Ambrose alone was faithful to the bottle, and though no one took any notice of him, talked on and told of things incredible. The Voyt shortly took his leave, making as if to go home; but he whipped round through the orchard into the yard, where Yagna was sitting on the byre-step, giving a mottled calf her finger to suck.