"Of course," he replied and puffed on. The grandmother's exclamation had meant: "What's this? Are you only here to look on? Can't you, at least, pile up the cut wood?"
Hansei had fully understood her and had answered as if to say: "Of course I shan't help; I don't feel a mind to."
The grandmother was about to throw down the armful of wood before his very face, but she reflected that the day-laborer outside need not see that. She carried the wood into the shed and then went into the room and said:
"Look here, Hansei! I've got something to tell you."
"I can hear you," he replied, still looking out of the window.
"I don't know what to make of you. What's got into you?"
Hansei did not deem it necessary to make any reply, but went on smoking while the grandmother continued:
"It's shame enough that you have the wood brought to the house, instead of going and getting it yourself. You're a woodcutter, and yet you must have another come and cut your wood for you. Such a thing never happened before. As long as this house stands, the axe-handle has never grown warm in the hands of a stranger. Aren't you ashamed of yourself?"
"There's no need of my doing it," replied Hansei.
"Very well, I suppose you know your needs, better than I do," cried the old woman, angrily; "but I'll not scold. Do just as you please; let yourself and everything else go to ruin. As you make your bed, so you'll have to lie on it. Oh, if Walpurga knew of this! She's gone away among strangers, for our sake, while you--"