“Where, Mosh Nichifor?”
“Why, under your bundles. Only they had no mouths with which to tell me. We have made a mistake: we have been like some one sitting on hidden treasure and asking for alms. But it’s good that we have found them now. It shows my poor old woman did put them in.”
“Mosh Nichifor, you are feeling remorse in your heart.”
“Well, yes, young lady. I see I am at fault. I must sing a song of penitence:
Poor old wife of mine!
Be she kind or be she harsh,
Still her home is mine.”
And so saying old Nichifor rolled up his sleeves, cut a beech stick, and made a wonderful axle-pin. Then he set it in position, put the wheel in place, harnessed the mares, quietly took the road and said:
“In you get, young lady, and let’s start.”
As the mares were refreshed and well rested they were at Peatra by middle day.