Hanka, in search of her father, came to him just then, and asked whether he had not seen him. “Bylitsa?—Why, ’tis so tremendously hot, he must be asleep somewhere in the shadow.—Ah! ye little wretches!” he cried, and went stumping after the urchins. Greatly upset, Hanka returned home, and told the occurrence to her sister, who had come to dine with her. But Veronka only gave a shrug. “His having joined the _Dziads_ will not cost him a kingdom, and it will make things easier for us. Better men than he have ended likewise!” “But, good God! what a disgrace to us, to let our own father go a-begging!—And what will Antek say?—And the others, our neighbours, will they not cry out that we have turned him out to beg?” “Let them yelp as they please! Anyone can wag his tongue; but who will offer help? No one.” “And I—I will not allow my father to beg.” “So high and mighty? Then take him and feed him yourself.” “So will I!—You, you grudge him a few spoonfuls of food.—Oh, I see now!... ’tis you that have driven him to this!” “What? what? is there too much of aught in my home? Am I to take the food out of my children’s mouths, and give it to him?” “Yet remember: he has a legal claim to be fed by you for the land he made over.” “To give what I have not, I will not rend my bowels.” “Rend them, but give: Father comes first! He has more than once complained to me that you starve him, and care less for him than for your swine.” “Most true. I starve my father, and live myself like a rich lady! So stout am I that my petticoat slips off my hips, and I have hardly strength to crawl.” “Do not talk so: folk might think ye spoke the truth.” “But I do! Were it not for Yankel, we should not even get the potatoes and salt we eat.—Ah, ’tis a true saying: ‘Goodman Bellyful thinks no one is hungry.’” She was going on in this way, and growing more and more querulous, when the blind man, led by his dog, appeared on the premises. “Sit ye down here by the hut,” Hanka said, and hurried away to get him his dinner. Dinner had been already served under the trees, and the smell of the dishes came to his nostrils. “Groats and fat bacon: very good indeed. May it profit you!” the beggar muttered, sniffing the scent of it, and smacking his lips. His dog sat close to the house-wall, panting with wide-open jaws, and tongue lolling out; for the heat was so great as to melt them all to nothing. In the hot sleepy stillness, only the scraping of the spoons was heard, with (at times) a swallow twittering under the eaves. “Oh, how cooling would a little dish of sour milk be!” sighed the _Dziad_. Yuzka answered at once: “Be easy, I shall fetch you some.” “Well, has your whining brought you in much to-day?” Pete asked, tapping the dish lazily with his spoon.