“No!” the smith interrupted in a hard voice. “All those things are common property, and to be shared equally by all.” “By all? Is that your will? No one can take from her my wedding-present!” And, raising her voice, “Perchance,” she cried, “ye would likewise divide her petticoats amongst you—and her feather-bed likewise ... eh?” “I did but jest; and ye fly out at me at once!” “Because I know you to the bottom of your heart!” “But now,” he went on, “to what purpose is all this prating? You are right, Hanka; we must needs wait till Antek comes back.—And I have presently to go in haste and meet the Squire: I am stayed for.” And he rose. But, having caught sight of his father-in-law’s sheepskin, hanging in the corner, he offered to pull it down. “This would be just the thing for me.” “Touch it not: it is hanging there to dry,” Hanka said. “Well, then, let me have those boots. Only the uppers are in good condition, and they too are patched,” he pleaded, trying to get them down. “Not one thing is to be touched. Should you take aught, they will say that half of the household goods have been carried off. Let an inventory be made first, and officially. Till then, I will not allow one stake to come out of a hedge.” “Ha!” said Magda; “but Father’s bedding is gone, and will not be down in the inventory.” “I have told you what came to pass. Directly after his death, I spread it on the hedge to air; and one came by night and stole it.... I could not see to everything, all alone.” “Strange that a thief should have been so ready at hand!” “Do you mean by that I am lying now, and stole it then?” “Be quiet, Magda, no quarreling.... He that stole it, let him have his winding-sheet cut out of it!” “Why, the feathers alone weighed thirty pounds!” “Hold your tongue, I say!” the blacksmith shouted at his wife, and asked Hanka to come out with him into the farm-yard: he wished, he said, to look at the swine. She went with him, but well on her guard. “I would fain give you good advice.” She listened attentive, wondering what it could be.