the cloth pedlar and the family of the kalounkar have made themselves quite at home, tinkers come for a night’s lodging, musicians often turn aside thither, and listeners, male and female, come from the village to hear them play.
Again Frank listened to the song or the story in these chambers, and lead Staza thither—how well-known and beloved wherever they are seen!
And, if we wish, we can take a peep at Loyka sometimes in the morning when the servants are preparing themselves for their work afield.
Old Loyka with his pipe in his mouth promenades about the court, inspects the implements, and the servants salute him with “The Lord God give you good-morrow, pantata.”
Old Loyka thanks them. “As God wills, my children,” says he.
“Are we to go to-day to work in the meadow, pantata.”
“Have you asked your young master? go where he tells you.”
“He said we were to ask you.”
“Well, well, then go to the meadow. But always ask your young master.”
“Look, here he comes.”
And here Frank comes forward. “What do you think? Must they go to the meadow?”
And Frank knows so many reasons why they must go to the meadow and nowhere else, that old Loyka
