were soiled and ragged, and she never spoke to any one. There was a large oak on the borders of the forest, where Victorka used to stand for hours, her eyes fixed upon the mill-dam. At twilight she used to go to the edge of the dam, and seating herself upon an old stump gaze into the water, and sing long, long into the night.
One day, as the children heard her singing, they asked: "Grandma, why doesn't Victorka ever have any nice clothes, and why doesn't she speak to any one?"
"Because she is crazy."
"And what is it to be crazy?" again asked the children.
"For example, Victorka doesn't speak to anyone, goes about ragged, and lives in the woods both summer and winter."
"In the night, too?" asked Willie.
"Certainly. Don't you hear her as she sings every night by the dam? After that she goes to sleep in the cave."
"And isn't she afraid of Jack-o'-the-lantern, or of the waterman?" asked the children in great surprise.
"Why there is no waterman," said Barunka, "Papa said there isn't."
In the summer it was quite unusual for Victorka to come to the house to beg; but in the winter she came like the raven, rapped on the door or window, and stretched out her hand. As soon as she received a piece of bread or something else to eat, she hastened away without saying a word. The children, seeing the bloody tracks left on the ice by her bare feet, called to her: "Victorka, come here
