Page:Poet Lore, volume 36, 1925.pdf/344



Miller.—Leave him alone. But you certainly hurried with the repairs.

Braha.—I got angry, too, while I was at it. The pest!

Miller.—What now—

Braha.—A countryman. He stopped at my place before leaving and came out with the taunt, whether I hadn’t cleared my eyes with a drop of something. “You fool,” said I, “most certainly I did clear them. I cleared them, but here (points to his forehead) there is no fog, perfectly clear; I know what I’m saying, I don’t stutter like you, little country man.” That’s the way I fixed him. He won’t reproach me any more for taking a drop! You know, sir, without a drop, my eyes are not strong, nor my hand steady. But as soon as a drop warms me up, then I have a lucky eye, a lucky hand, then I swing the axe absolutely to perfection.

enters from the living room, carrying a flower-pot in her right hand, and approaches the door leading to the hall.

Miller.—Where are you going, Grandmother?

Grandmother.—To the log cabin, to the porch, see! (Points to the flower-pot) Don’t you know? It is Thursday, and after sunset.

Miller.—Ah, you are taking that to the house sprite.

Grandmother.—So that he may bless our home. You would have forgotten.

Miller.—Hanička would have remembered. But where is she?

Grandmother.—She has gone to the hills for flowers and herbs.

Miller (Smiling).—She’ll certainly bring back a heap of things.

Grandmother.—And no doubt a wreath of thyme. She also hung this one up for you (pointing to a wreath of thyme hanging on the wall above the chronicle). But I must go. (Leaves by the door leading to the hall.)