"Funny, eh?"

The sand crunched under Iakov's steps and they had to suspend their conversation. Iakov had brought a bag which he threw into a corner. He cast a hostile look at the young woman.

She went on munching her seeds. Vassili, seating himself on the wood-bin, said with a forced smile:

"What made you think of coming?"

"Why, I just came. We wrote you."

"When? I haven't received any letter."

"Really? We wrote often."

"The letter must have got lost," said Vassili regretfully. " It always does when it's important."

"So you don't know how things are at home?" asked Iakov, suspiciously.