is all smiles, to think that he is still competent to manage the estate.
“Well, well,” he adds, “then go to the meadow to be sure.”
“Then Stazicka (little Staza), as all on the farm call her, comes and says that they must go to breakfast. Old Loyka chucks her under the chin, and looks into her sparkling eyes. “Good child, good child,” says he. Then he lets go her chin, and takes her by the hand. This very day come a ear you will not come for me alone, little Staza.”
“Why should I not come for you, papa.”
“Tut: come, of course you will, but with my grandchild in your arms.”
On this little Staza blushes, and thinks to herself, full of fond anticipation “This very day come a year.”
Or suppose we pay them a visit, come a year, at harvest. The harvesters once more make the farm their first halting place when they go a-harvesting, and old Loyka promenades among them with pipe in mouth.
“I come from the young pantata,” says the spokesman of the harvesters, “in order that you should select us yourself, pantata, because you know us now as he says; and I also think it is best.”
“Well, well,” says old Loyka, “how could we fail to know one another after so many years.”
