Panje Franzesco’s
caravan wagon was a little larger and painted in a bright blue. Inside, a stove
put out waves of warmth, and an older lady, Panje
Franzesco’s wife, sat on a comfortable looking sofa, knitting something in brown.
Jozef and Wizlaw were sitting on two easy chairs fronting
the sofa, while Panje Franzesco sprawled next to his wife on the sofa, wringing
his hands. “You’ve always done such a good job, Panje Dubiki. I just don’t know what will become of our little
circus when you’re gone.”
“Don’t worry. That’s why I found Panje Wawrzyniak for you. He’ll do a wonderful job. I’ll train him.
And if he does not work out, I promise I’ll either return or find you someone
else.”
Panje Franzesco
sighed. His wife turned to him. “Why don’t you give it a try? The new manager
has the whole winter to learn what to do, and if he’s managed an estate before,
he already knows a lot.”
“All right then. I’ll accept your resignation, Wizlaw, and
Panje Wawrzyniak, I expect you to start your new duties next week, on Monday.
Will that be agreeable to you?”
Jozef nodded. They discussed the pay and living
arrangements, and two very excited and satisfied men got ready for the six hour
ride to Konrad Bukowski’s estate.
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