“We'll see what you're going to eat here, my nobles from Moscow!” she said maliciously. “We'll see!”
Once on an early September morning, Fekla, rosy from the cold, healthy, and good-looking, carried up the hill two pails of water ; when she entered the hut Marya and Olga sat at the table and drank tea.
“Tea . . . and sugar!” began Fekla ironically. “Fine ladies you are!” she added, setting down the pails. “A nice fashion you've got of drinking tea every day! See that you don't swell up with tea!” she continued, looking with hatred at Olga. “You got a thick snout already in Moscow, fatbeef!”
She swung round the yoke and struck Olga on the shoulder. The two women clapped their hands and exclaimed —
“Akh, batiushki!”
After which Fekla returned to the river to wash clothes, and all the time cursed so loudly that she was heard in the hut.
The day passed, and behind it came the long autumn evening. All sat winding silk, except Fekla, who went down to the river. The silk was given out by a neighbouring factory; and at this work the whole family earned not more than twenty kopecks a week.
“We were better off as serfs,” said the old man, winding away busily. “In those days you'd work, and eat, and sleep . . . each in its turn. For dinner you'd
