“Where have you been, you gadabout?—Always running hither and thither, like a cat with a bladder tied to its tail!—I’ll tell Antek what a worker you are!—But get the embers out now, and quickly!” “I was only at the Ploshkas’ with their Kate. All are afield, and the poor girl has no one to fetch her water even!” “What ails her, then?” “The smallpox, I think; she is flushed and burning hot.” “And if you have caught it from her, I will take you off to the hospital.” “Is it likely? I have sat by a sick-bed already, nor ever got any hurt. Have ye no mind how I tended you, when you were lying in?” And so she went on after her fashion, prattling away in her absurdly thoughtless fashion, driving the flies off meantime and preparing to take the embers out of the oven. Hanka interrupted her as she worked: “Ah! you must take the food to the people in the field.” “Instantly, instantly!—Shall I fry some eggs for Antek?” “Do; but take heed not to put in too much fat!” “Oh, do ye grudge it him?” “How could I? But it might not agree with him.” Yuzka loved a run; so she did her work quick, and was off, before Hanka had closed the oven, with three vessels of sour milk, and bread done up in her apron. Hanka cried to her from the window: “See whether the linen spread to bleach is dry, and wet it on your return: it is sure to be dry before sunset.” But the little chit was over the stile by then; the song she was singing floated back, and her hemp-coloured hair was seen bobbing along through the rye. On the arable land, by the forest, the _Komorniki_ were scattering the dung brought previously by Pete, while Antek was ploughing it in. The stiff clay soil, though it had been harrowed not long ago, was hard as stone and baked in the sun; the horses had to pull with such mighty efforts as to strain their harness to breaking-point. Antek, seemingly glued to his plough-handles, drove his way on with dogged pertinacity, his mind concentrated on his work: now and then clacking the whip on the horses’ hind quarters, but mostly encouraging them with a smack of his lips; for the work was really very wearisome. With a firm steady hand he directed the plough, cutting furrow after furrow, in long straight strips, such as it is the custom to make for wheat-land. Crows hopped along by the furrows, picking up earthworms; and the bay colt, that had been out to graze on the field pathway, again and again pressed to its mother’s side, eager to suck her milk. “Milk at its age! What can have come over the greedy thing!” Antek growled, striking at its legs with his whip. It ran off, tail in the air, while he went on ploughing patiently, only at times breaking the silence with a word or two to the women. He was cross and tired out, and, when Pete arrived, gave vent to his feelings. “These women,” he cried, “have been fain to stop working because of you; and you come on now slow as a ragpicker!—Wherefore have ye stopped so long at the edge of the forest? I saw you!”