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There was a frightful rumpus this morning; the great uncle, the people here call him "kutya mog" or however they spell it, and it means mad dog, well, the great uncle spied in on us. He can walk with a stick, our room is on the ground floor, and he came and planted himself in front of the window when Hella was washing and I was just getting out of bed.
Observing that Basavriuk did not come to church, even at Easter, he determined to reprove him and impose penance upon him. Well, he hardly escaped with his life. "Hark ye, sir!" he thundered in reply, "learn to mind your own business instead of meddling in other people's, if you don't want that throat of yours stuck with boiling kutya ." What was to be done with this unrepentant man?
Well, he hardly escaped with his life. “Hark ye, pannotche!” he thundered in reply, “learn to mind your own business instead of meddling in other people’s, if you don’t want that goat’s throat of yours stuck together with boiling kutya.” What was to be done with this unrepentant man?
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