COUNTRY FOLK 553
"One, two, three! Go on, Rebbe, go on!" urged the boys, and there were shouts of laughter.
Feivke looked on in amaze. He wanted to go and take his father by the sleeve, make him get up and escape, but just then Mattes raised himself to a sitting posture, and began to rub his eyes with the same shy smile.
"Now, Rebbe, this one!" and the yellow-haired boy began to drag Feivke towards the hay. The others assisted. Feivke got very red, and silently tried to tear himself out of the boy's hands, making for the door, but the other kept his hold. In the doorway Feivke glared at him with his obstinate black eyes, and said:
"I'll knock your teeth out !"
"Mine? You? You booby, you lazy thing! This is our house ! Do you know, on New Year's Eve I went with my grandfather to the town ! I shall call Leibrutz. He'll give you something to remember him by!"
And Leibrutz was not long in joining them. He was the inn driver, a stout youth of fifteen, in a peasant smock with a collar stitched in red, other- wise in full array, with linen socks and a handsome bottle of strong waters against faintness in his hands. To judge by the size of the bottle, his sturdy looks belied a peculiarly delicate constitution. He pushed towards Feivke with one shoulder, in no friendly fashion, and looked at him with one eye, while he winked with the other at the freckled grandson of the host.
"Who is the beauty?"
