On Sunday, if Pavel had no time, he chopped wood for her; once he
came with a board on his shoulder, and quickly and skillfully
replaced the rotten step on the porch. Another time he repaired
the tottering fence with just as little ado. He whistled as he
worked. It was a beautifully sad and wistful whistle.
Once the mother said to the son:
"Suppose we take the Little Russian in as a boarder. It will be
better for both of you. You won't have to run to each other so much!"
"Why need you trouble and crowd yourself?" asked Pavel, shrugging
his shoulders.
"There you have it! All my life I've had trouble for I don't know
what. For a good person it's worth the while."
"Do as you please. If he comes I'll be glad."
And the Little Russian moved into their home.
CHAPTER V
The little house at the edge of the village aroused attention.
Its walls already felt the regard of scores of suspecting eyes.
The motley wings of rumor hovered restlessly above them.
People tried to surprise the secret hidden within the house by the
ravine. They peeped into the windows at night. Now and then somebody
would rap on the pane, and quickly take to his heels in fright.
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