at her side holding on to her skirt, and the two eldest skipped on ahead.
And again the villagers scratched their heads, while those who had a conscience thought: "If only I could give the Jewess a wagon for the money I owe her perhaps I'd feel easier."
But, you see, each man was afraid that the others would guess he hadn't squared his account with the Jew.
And the miller thought again:
"Oh, what wicked people! Now I know how gladly they'd hustle me out of the way if I should ever stumble or come a cropper."
So the poor widow crawled away to the city, and heaven only knows what became of her there. Maybe she and the children found something to do; maybe they all died of hunger. Everything is possible. But as a matter of fact, Jews are tenacious creatures. They may live badly, but they manage to stay alive.
Then the people began to ask themselves who would be the next inn-keeper in Novokamensk. For though Yankel had gone and the women and children of the inn had wandered away into the wide world, the tavern still stood on its hill, and on its doors were still depicted in white paint a quart measure and a tin mug. And everything else was there in its proper place.
Even Kharko still sat on the hill smoking his long
