"I should not like the shoemaker's trade, though I sometimes mend shoes," replied Iermola, shaking his head with a thoughtful air. "There are plenty of tailors who come from Kolkiow with their measuring sticks on their shoulders; and no one would be willing to trust a piece of cloth to me, lest I should spoil it. As for cloak merchants, there are already three."
"Yes, and there is not even one honest weaver, who would not steal a third of your package of warp," cried the widow. "The old man who steals least will keep you three months waiting for your roll of cloth; and if you pay any of them in advance, they will sell it to the Jews. I can truly say no one here really understands weaving, though it is a trade which pays well. Now, couldn't you undertake to learn it?"
"But how about the weaving-room and the loom? How could I put it in my house? The room is small; the goat occupies one half of it, and the baby the other; all my furniture is already piled up one piece on top of another. It is impossible to think of such a thing. If you want to give me helping counsel, think of something else."
"Bless me! I should have been very glad if you would have learned the weaver's trade, as I should then have been able to find some use for my thread, which is rotting here, and I do not know what to do with it."
At this Iermola laughed, but he also sighed.
"Ah! you are advising yourself, then, and not me. Think of something else, neighbour."
"Can't you think of anything?" cried Horpyna. "I know of something. Haven't you told me that at the dwor, when you had nothing else to do, you used to amuse yourself by playing on the violin?"
"Yes, that is so; I used to play sometimes all the evening."
"Very well; why not be a musician?"
"Pshaw, for shame!" cried Iermola, spitting on the ground. "It is not right, Horpyna, for you to give me such advice. Suppose I should take to drinking from playing at weddings and balls? And then how could I take the baby with me to all the inns?"