so much left of Holman, if, in fact, he had become—­with all reverence be it said—­something of a fool, yet every one was sensible that in that union it must be so, if the balance was to be kept.  Any one who had only seen or spoken to Mrs. Holman once, understood it immediately, but what was not so easy to understand was that, after all, it was Holman who made the blocks down in the workshop, by which the household lived.

It was still more remarkable that he had sometimes been met in the gateway in an irresponsible condition, such as no one would have expected in a man so happily married as he was.

After the miracle of Mrs. Holman’s having a little girl herself had happened—­after that great and important change in the household, it was deliberated whether it would not be better to rid the room of other people’s progeny.  But then it was good regular money to have, and in time the boy could be made use of at the cradle.

It was the lightest work in the world—­just made for a little boy, sitting and rocking the cradle with his foot—­nothing but a little practice for him.

But here, too, she was to have sad experience.  She left him by the cradle went she went out, but when she came home, he would be standing gazing out of the window or from the top of the cellar stairs at the children playing in the square.  She had even caught him right outside with the door open behind him—­it was all the same to him, as long as he could get out of the cellar and away from his duty.

Well, the young rogue would have to pay for it, as much as his mortal back could bear!

And she assured the servant upstairs, who put in her head to hear what the little imp had done now, as he was screaming so—­that all the punishment she gave him, and all her attempts, both by letting him have no supper and by locking him in, were equally useless:  he was just as defiant and unreliable as ever!

She had frightened him now by saying that the devil sat in the corner behind the bed and watched to see if he left the cradle!

He was almost beside himself with terror, and fancied all the time that he could see the aforesaid sinister personage putting up his head over Mrs. Holman’s pillow.  He could not help looking now and again towards the window—­there was some one playing outside in the square.  And, somehow or other, he came to be standing there, and stood until he once more remembered what was behind him.  Then he darted back like an arrow, and sat staring in mortal fear into the corner.

From being made useful beside the cradle, Nikolai was advanced in course of time to mind the Holman’s daughter Ursula, outside the cellar steps.  To move farther, only as far as the trees over on the other side of the street, was a capital offence.  The idea of what overstepping the bounds meant, was impressed upon him with full force.  How could Mrs. Holman be sure otherwise that he did not take Silla right up to the basin round the fountain, where