"Those beautiful—"
"Be quiet, Nikolai! If we are to be satisfied with these for supper, mother, you'll have to take off a farthing or two."
In the end they went for two-pence a piece.
"What a fine trader you are, Nikolai!" she said to tease him, on the way home. "But do you see how big and fresh they are?"
Barbara was standing on the steps, shading her eyes with her hand, and looking to see if Nikolai were not soon coming with the fish.
The person she did see coming quietly and sedately up the road was Silla, and she chatted with her from the steps until Nikolai also at last appeared with the two mackerel.
Of course Silla must come in and see how they tasted; there was no question of Barbara's honour and superabundant hospitality putting up with anything else.
In there on Barbara's cooking-stove the mackerel hissed and broiled that light evening. The peculiar, rather pungent smell of frying grew stronger and more appetising as it went on.
Then the pieces had to be turned with fresh fat in the pan—fresh hissing!
The scent floated out through the open window, and far into the street.