began to play the “Kalounkarska”, one after the other, although they had been singing quite different songs till then.
And so it came to pass that one day Joseph went to his wife and said, “Barushka, it is impossible for us to hold out any longer in Frishets, I shall sell the farm and we will emigrate elsewhere.” There was no sign of hesitation, he meant it in earnest, nor did Barushka by any means endeavour to divert him from his purpose. So, then, let him find a purchaser and Joseph Loyka would decamp from Frishets.
Not long after this the good folk of Frishets whispered to one another that the kalounkar wanted to decamp. Vena one day delivered on the village green a complete disquisition: How, even this kalounkar, who showed the door to every real kalounkar, was now every day peeping out of that very door, how he had already all his wares in his pack, and how they would soon have to drum him out of the village to his own tune.
At that time, it so fell out, that Bartos, the grave-digger, came into Frishets to pay a visit, and went direct to the house of the mayor.
“I have friends with us just now. Do you come to take their measure—eh?” said the mayor.
“Not exactly that,” said Bartos, “but I could wish to take my spade in hand to clear a certain something out of the way.”
“Well, seat yourself”, said the mayor.
And Bartos began:—
“You are Frank’s guardian, my dear mayor?”
“I am, I am”, admitted the mayor.
“And the money which Frank inherited through his grandfather you gave to me to stow away?”
“I did, I did. You do not, perhaps, want me to take charge of it again? That would be a pretty business. What could I do with it, pray, at my time of life? And, pray, where could it be better stowed away than at your house?”
“I do, indeed, wish you to take charge of it again. It is well stowed away at my house; but it is dead, like everything else that lies there; and this money must not lie dead.”
“And how do you mean to bring it to life, my dear Bartos?”
“Well, thus. I have heard that Joseph desires to sell the farm.”
“And you are the cause of that, my dear Bartos.”
“I am, and I am not. Only tell me this: Does Joseph wish to sell?”
“And did you wish to buy?”
