solidifying under the rain: there was no money available for clearing it away, and one’s hands simply refused to undertake the task. Yakoff harangued on the subject: “Matters ought, for example, to have been more cheaply managed from the start.” “But, devil take it,” Syery said to himself, “a cheap thing doesn’t last long, does it?” And, much troubled in mind, he proceeded to look up a new cottage—and spent a whole year in bargaining for precisely those which were beyond his means. He had reconciled himself to his present domicile merely in the firm expectation of a future cottage which should be strong, spacious, and warm.
“I simply don’t intend to live on here!” he snapped one day.
Yakoff stared at him attentively and shook his cap. “Exactly so. That means you are expecting your ships to come in?”
“They’ll come, all right,” replied Syery mysteriously.
“Oi, drop your nonsense,” said Yakoff. “Get yourself a place somewhere—anywhere you can—and keep your teeth, for example, in their proper place.”
But the thought of a fine farmstead, good order, some suitable, real work, poisoned Syery’s entire life. He got bored when working in a place.
“Evidently, working at home isn’t as sweet as honey, either,” said his neighbours.
“Never you mind, it might be honey-sweet if the house were managed sensibly!”
“Just so. And will you take a place by the month, or until the working season?”
“I’ll get one, never fear. Oversight is needed at home, isn’t it?”