to give the ball into his hand. Thereupon she looked down, he pressed her hand, and the boys went on playing. Also Uncle John learnt to catch the ball like any other boy. He knew very well that not only the boys were looking at him, but that there were also two blue eyes watching, which sparkled with delight to see that he was the most skilful of the players. Even then the lads nicknamed him Kubista’s boy. But Uncle John did not at all mind this; rather it encouraged him to say to them, “When I am not Kubista’s boy, then laugh at me.”
Betuska was about three years younger than Uncle John, consequently in her ninth year when he ceased to go to school. Bitterly indeed they missed each other at first, for they were like children who had grown accustomed to one another. And Unele John when afield often looked towards the school, and if Betuska was ever distracted in school-time, it was only when her thoughts fled to the field.
But even then they saw one another sufficiently often though they belonged to different villages. These villages were only about a ten minutes’ walk apart from one another, and grandfather’s fields just bordered Kubista’s fields. Thus it happened more than once, that the cattle of both fed on the same clover, because the young shepherd had so much to say to the young shepherdess.
They grew like plants from water. When Betuska was fifteen and Uncle John eighteen he already did not know where to find all the pictures with which he would compare those lovely blue eyes; for the corn-flowers appeared already pale and bleached. He did not know to what he should compare those beautiful thick raven locks; for night was seldom so black as they were. And Betuska could think about none else except him; for by day he smiled on her, and by night he was present to her dreams.
How he loved her! He never let her stir sickle when she came to cut clover, and he was anywhere near. He took her sickle and before she expected it, he was in full swing. Betuska meantime sat at the boundary, and told all about her domestic life, only pausing now and then to admire Uncle John’s manly figure and athletic attitude, as though he had painted it for her to look at.
Uncle John was now nearly grown up. He went to hear the music, and as he belonged to a wealthy farm he treated those also who were less well off. But whenever a new polka appeared the musicians must take it at once to Uncle John, so that next Sunday he and Betuska might show all the village how it had to be danced. And what a lovely garland hung before Betuska’s
