ears in spite of the shrill noises of the wind.

Marcu and his daughter entered the inn that stood a few hundred feet
from the shore. The innkeeper, an old fat greasy Greek, Chiria
Anastasidis, welcomed the gipsy chief. Not knowing the relationship
between the old man and the girl, he feared to antagonize his customer
by talking to the young woman. He pushed a white pine table near the big
stove in the middle of the room and after putting two empty glasses on
the table he inquired "White or red?"

"Red wine, Chiria. It warms quicker. I am getting old."

"Old!" exclaimed the Greek as he brought a small pitcher of wine. "Old!
Why, Marcu, you are as young as you were twenty years ago."

"This is my daughter, Fanutza, Chiria, and not my wife."

"A fine daughter you have. Your daughter, eh?"

"Yes, and she is about to marry, too."

After they had clinked glasses and wished one another health and long
years the innkeeper inquired:

"All your men healthy?"

"All. Only one-eyed Jancu died. You remember him. He was well along in
years."

"_Bogdaproste._ Let not a younger man than he was die," answered
Anastasidis as he crossed himself.

After Marcu had declared himself warmed back to life by the fine wine he
inquired of Anastasidis the price of oats and straw and hay. The
innkeeper's store and his warehouse contained everything from a needle
to an oxcart. The shelves were full of dry goods, socks, shirts, silks,
belts, fur caps, coats, and trousers. Overhead, hanging from the
ceiling, were heavy leather boots, shoes, saddles, harness of all kinds,
fishers' nets, and even a red painted sleigh that swung on heavy chains.
In one corner of the store blankets were piled high, while all over the
floor were bags of dry beans and peas and corn and oats. At the door
were bales of straw and hay, and outside, already half covered with
snow, iron ploughs hobnobbed with small anchors, harrows, and bundles of
scythes that leaned on the wall.

"Oats you wanted? Oats are very high this year, Marcu."

And the bargaining began. Fanutza sat listlessly on her chair and looked
through the window. A few minutes later, the two men called one another
thief and swindler and a hundred other names. Yet each time the bargain
was concluded on a certain article they shook hands and repeated that
they were the best friends on earth.

"Now that we have finished with the oats, Chiria, let's hear your price
for corn? What? Three francs a hundre