They met in the little boy's house to choose their delegate, partly because the little boy's father was starosta, and partly because his house was the largest. Though they were many, there was room for them all on the bench of masonry that ran around the four walls of the room, and was covered in the most honorable places with bright calico. It was a very cold day, and the bench was as far as possible from the stove, but they were not cold, for the chinks between the upright boards which made the walls of the starosta's house were well stopped with tow, and, besides, the men all had on their warm kaftans, or over-blouses, and their fur-lined boots. There was a great deal of talking, and the little boy's mother and sisters were very busy with the samovar, making tea and handing it round. They had to be very careful to keep the water in the samovar boiling madly, for tea is not good unless it scalds your mouth. At least so they think in the little boy's village. The little boy had been told that he must keep very still; but it is as hard to keep a little Russian boy still as a little American boy, for both are very fond of play. The little boy did not find it amusing, and presently he crept very quietly toward the door. "Where are you going?" asked his mother. "To see grandmamma," answered the little boy. "Be careful not to disturb her; she is busy," said the mother. The little boy ran quickly out of the room. The grandmother was indeed busy. She had her short skirt turned back, a short-handled broom of twigs in her hand, a great earthen jar of water beside her, and she was hard at work scrubbing the floor. "Wipe your feet very clean," she said, "and don't bring dirt upon my nice floor." The little boy wiped his feet very clean, and tiptoed across to the stove. It was really quite amusing to watch his grandmother scrub, especially when the water made little pools in the hollows, worn by many years of walking over the clay floor, and she had to flirt it out with little whisks of the broom. He watched her very quietly until she had shaken out her broom and emptied the jar into a great tub in the court. Then she came back and sank heavily into her chair, saying: "Ouf! little grandmother is tired!" "Too tired to spin, little grandma!" exclaimed the little boy eagerly. The grandmother smiled. "But not too tired for a story--is that what the little boy means?" "Oh, you're not, you're not!" cried the little boy gleefully. "Listen then, and I will tell you about "THE FOX AND THE HEDGEHOG" A Hedgehog met Master Reinecke in a field, and said to him, "Hello, Master! Whither away?" "Oh, I'm just loafing around!" answered the Fox. "Tell me, now," said Reinecke after a while to the Hedgehog, "how manifold is your understanding?" "Threefold," answered the Hedgehog. "Why, how is that?" asked the Fox.