But when he reached the town, and saw that the booths were already covered with fir-boughs, he felt a pang at his heart. The booths and the houses seemed to be twirling round him in a circle, and dancing. But he consoled himself with the thought that every year, when he drove into town, he found many booths already covered. Some cover earlier, some later. The latter paid the best. "I shall ask higher prices," he resolved, and all the while fear tugged at his heart. He drove on. Two Jewish women were standing before a house; they pointed at the cart with their finger, and laughed aloud. "Why do you laugh?" queried Antosh, excitedly. "Because you are too soon with your fir-boughs," they answered, and laughed again. "How too soon?" he asked, astonished. "Too soon--too soon--" laughed the women. "Pfui," Antosh spat, and drove on, thinking, "Berko said himself, 'In a week.' I am only two days ahead." A cold sweat covered him, as he reflected he might have made a wrong calculation, founded on what Berko had told him. It was possible that he had counted the days badly--had come too late! There is no doubt: all the booths are covered with fir-boughs. He will have no salt, no tobacco, no soap, and no petroleum. Sadly he followed the slow paces of his languid horse, which let his weary head droop as though out of sympathy for his master. Meantime the Jews were crowding out of the synagogues in festal array, with their prayer-scarfs and prayer-books in their hands. When they perceived the peasant with the cart of fir-boughs, they looked questioningly one at the other: Had they made a mistake and begun the festival too early? "What have you there?" some one inquired. "What?" answered Antosh, taken aback. "Fir-boughs! Buy, my dear friend, I sell it cheap!" he begged in a piteous voice. The Jews burst out laughing. "What should we want it for now, fool?" "The festival has begun!" said another. Antosh was confused with his misfortune, he scratched the back of his head, and exclaimed, weeping: "Buy! Buy! I want salt, soap! I want petroleum." The group of Jews, who had begun by laughing, were now deeply moved. They saw the poor, starving peasant standing there in his despair, and were filled with a lively compassion. "A poor Gentile--it's pitiful!" said one, sympathetically. "He hoped to make a fortune out of his fir-boughs, and now!" observed another. "It would be proper to buy up that bit of fir," said a third, "else it might cause a Chillul ha-Shem." "On a festival?" objected some one else. "It can always be used for firewood," said another, contemplating the cartful. "Whether or no! It's a festival----" "No salt, no soap, no petroleum--" It was the refrain of the bewildered peasant, who did not understand what the Jews were saying among themselves. He could only guess that they were talking about him. "Hold! he doesn't want _money_! He wants ware. Ware without money may be given even on a festival," called out one.