After passing the Kopanyicza Hills, which seem like a screen to the entrance of the valley, Glogova, with its little white houses, lay before them.
"We are nearly at home now," said Veronica.
"Where is the Presbytery?" asked Gyuri.
"At the end of the village."
"Tell me when to turn to the right or the left."
"Very well, Mr. Coachman! At present keep straight on."
A smell of lavender pervaded the street, and the tidy little gardens were filled with all sorts of flowers. In front of the houses children were playing, and in most of the courtyards a foal was running about, with a bell tied round its neck. Otherwise the village seemed quite deserted, for all who could work were out in the fields, and the women, having cooked the dinner at home, had carried it out to their husbands. Only on the grass-plot in front of the school-house was there life; there the children were at play, and their greetings to those in the carriage was in Hungarian.
Of the villagers only the "aristocratic" were at home. At the threshold of a pretty little stone house stood Gongoly, much stouter than some years before. In front of the smithy sat Klincsok, quietly smoking, while the smith mended a wheel.
"Hallo!" he called out. "So you've come back! Why, we were thinking of looking out for another priest!" Which showed that Father János' absence had been noticed.
How Glogova had changed in the last few years! There was a tower to the church, the like of which was not to be seen except in Losoncz; only that on the tower of Losoncz there was a weathercock. In the middle of the village was a hotel, "The Miraculous Umbrella," with Virginian creeper climbing all over it, and near it a pretty little white house, looking as though it were made of sugar; behind it a garden with a lot of young trees in it.