"The peasants are spiteful; I only hope they won't do you a mischief.
Wait a minute, I'll come with you."

We drove to Kurilovka together, and there the carpenters asked us
for a drink. The framework of the house was ready. It was time to
lay the foundation, but the masons had not come; this caused delay,
and the carpenters complained. And when at last the masons did come,
it appeared that there was no sand; it had been somehow overlooked
that it would be needed. Taking advantage of our helpless position,
the peasants demanded thirty kopecks for each cartload, though the
distance from the building to the river where they got the sand was
less than a quarter of a mile, and more than five hundred cartloads
were found to be necessary. There was no end to the misunderstandings,
swearing, and importunity; my wife was indignant, and the foreman
of the masons, Tit Petrov, an old man of seventy, took her by the
arm, and said:

"You look here! You look here! You only bring me the sand; I set
ten men on at once, and in two days it will be done! You look here!"

But they brought the sand and two days passed, and four, and a week,
and instead of the promised foundations there was still a yawning
hole.

"It's enough to drive one out of one's senses," said my wife, in
distress. "What people! What people!"

In the midst of these disorderly doings the engineer arrived; he
brought with him parcels of wine and savouries, and after a prolonged