to strike her. Malasha was frightened and, seeing what trouble she had caused, jumped out of the puddle and ran home.
Akulka's mother passed by; she saw her daughter's bodice bespattered and her shirt soiled.
"Where, accursed one, did you get yourself so dirty?"
"Malasha has purposely splashed it on me."
Akulka's mother grasped Malasha and gave her a knock on the nape of her neck. Malasha began to howl, and her mother ran out of the house.
"Why do you strike my daughter?" she began to scold her neighbour.
One word brought back another, and the women began to quarrel. The men, too, ran out, and a big crowd gathered in the street. All were crying, and nobody could hear his neighbour. They scolded and cursed each other; one man gave another man a push, and a fight had begun, when Akulka's grandmother came out. She stepped in the midst of the peasants, and began to talk to them:
"What are you doing, dear ones? Consider the holiday. This is a time for rejoicing. And see what sin you are doing!"
They paid no attention to the old woman, and almost knocked her off her feet. She would never have stopped them, if it had not been for Akulka and Malasha. While the women exchanged words, Akulka wiped off her bodice, and went back to the puddle in the lane. She picked up a pebble and began to scratch the ground so as to let the water off into the street. While she was scratching, Malasha came up and began to help her: she picked up a chip and widened the rill. The peasants had begun to fight, just as the water went down the rill toward the place where the old woman was trying to separate the men. The girls ran, one from one side of the rill, the other from the other side.
"Look out, Malasha, look out!" shouted Akiilka.
