If the work that he was doing kept him behind the farmer's back, he would suddenly throw down his tools, clinch his fists, and stamp on the ground like a madman. When the farmer turned round he would snatch up his tools and fall to work; but these strange performances did not wholly escape the farmer's eye.
The boy was not nearly so apt in his work as he had formerly been. If the farmer explained to him how a thing was to be done, one step after another, he paid little attention and forgot all the instructions before he got half through the task. It was plain that his thoughts were not upon the work, for he would stand staring vacantly into space, and sometimes his eyes would roll about in a wild way as though he were engaged in some fierce struggle.
"Keep your mind on your work and don't be so clumsy," the farmer often told him, but it did no good. Again he would warn him: "Be careful, my boy; if you don't do better, you will be sorry for it." But he did not improve. On the next Sunday the farmer said, "You must stay at home to-day. If you go wandering about the country, your head will be full of crazy notions all the week."
Renti could not get away, for the farmer remained at home all day within sight of the house and barn, keeping his eye on the boy until it was time to milk the cows and feed them, and in these duties Renti always had to help.
The following week was even worse than the last one. Renti seemed possessed by some evil spirit that gave him no rest. One day the farmer directed him to sit down before the barn door and cut some potatoes that were needed for planting, he himself being busy in the barn where he could keep an eye on the boy. Renti had done this work before and knew very well that the potatoes must be cut carefully so that each piece would have the proper eyes for sprouting. But he went at them regardless of eyes or sprouts, hacking right and left with such fierceness that it seemed as though he were taking vengeance on the potatoes for some great wrong that they had done him. The farmer came up softly behind the boy; the violence of the latter's movements had made him suspect that the work was not being done as carefully as it should be.
"What are you doing?" he said suddenly, right behind the boy's chair.
Renti sprang up in alarm, upsetting the basket with all the uncut potatoes, and these rolled down into a cistern that the farmer had just uncovered, all but a few disappearing in the hole.
Then Renti began to recover his senses, for he had been sitting as if in delirium. He had not meant to spoil the potatoes, but had simply not thought anything about what he was cutting them for, and it relieved his feelings to chop them with all his might.
"A pretty mess you've made!" said the farmer angrily, as he contemplated the few small potatoes that were left. "You are more expense to me than you are worth. This comes of having your thoughts always on vagabonding. But you're not going to stir a step from the house,—you may count on that. Struggle as you please, you will finally learn to be patient."