came to our khata and never said a word about wanting anything in return. And then, when your uncle died and you came to be a miller yourself, you collected the whole debt, and now even that won't satisfy you!"
"And the flour?"
"Well, what about the flour? How much do you ask for it?"
"Sixty copecks a pood, not less! No one would let you have it cheaper than that, no, not if you threw your precious self in with it into the bargain."
"And how much have you already collected from us?"
"Tut, tut, how she does talk! You've a tongue in your head as bad as Kharko's, girl. I'll answer that by asking you for the interest. Have you paid it?"
But Galya was silent. It is often that way with girls. They talk and talk and rattle along like a mill with all its stones grinding, and then they suddenly stop dead. You'd think they had run short of water. That's how Galya did. She burst into a flood of bitter tears, and went away wiping her eyes on the wide sleeve of her blouse.
"There now!" said the miller, a little confused but satisfied in his heart. "That's what comes of attacking people. If you hadn't begun shouting at me there wouldn't have been anything to cry for."
"Hold your tongue! Hold your tongue, you foul creature!"
