She is a splendid woman. Keep hold of her, and never let her go."

He pushed me towards the door, and I went out into the yard, depressed and scared. Vaniushka overtook me at the entrance of the house, and whispered softly:

"Don't be afraid of him. He is all right. Look him straight in the eyes. That's what he likes."

It was all very strange and distressing. I hardly knew any other existence, but I remembered vaguely that my father and mother used not to live like this; they had a different way of speaking, and a different idea of happiness. They always went about together and sat close to each other. They laughed very frequently and for a long time together, in the evenings, as they sat at the window and sang at the top of their voices; and people gathered together in the street and looked at them. The raised faces of these people as they looked up reminded me comically of dirty plates after dinner. But here people seldom laughed, and when they did it was not always easy to guess what they were laughing at. They often raged at one another, and secretly muttered threats against each other in the corners. The children were subdued and neglected; beaten down to earth like the dust by the rain. I felt myself a stranger in the house, and all the circumstances of my existence in it were nothing but a series of stabs, pricking me on to suspicion, and compelling me to study what went on with the closest attention.

My friendship with Tsiganok grew apace. Grandmother was occupied with household duties from sunrise till late at night, and I hung round Tsiganok nearly the whole day. He still used to put his hand under the rod whenever grandfather thrashed me, and the next day, displaying his swollen fingers, he would complain:

"There 's no sense in it! It does not make it any lighter for you, and look what it does to me. I won't stand it any longer, so there!"

But the next time he put himself in the way of being needlessly hurt just the same.

"But I thought you did not mean to do it again?" I would say.

"I did n't mean to, but it happened somehow. I did it without thinking."

Soon after this I learned something about Tsiganok which increased my interest in and love for him.

Every Friday he used to harness the bay gelding Sharapa, grandmother's pet--a cunning, saucy, dainty creature--to the sledge. Then he put on his fur coat, which reached to his knees, and his heavy cap, and tightly buckling his green belt, set out for the market to buy provisions. Sometimes it was very late before he returned, and the whole household became uneasy. Some one would run to the window every moment, and breathing on the panes to thaw the ice, would look up and down the road.

"Is n't he in sight yet?"

"No."

Grandmother was always more concerned than any of them.

"Alas!" she would exclaim to her sons and my grandfather, "you have ruined both the man and the horse. I wonder you are n't ashamed of yourselves, you conscienceless creatures! Ach! You family of fools, you tipplers! God will punish you for this."

"That is enough!" growled grandfather, scowling. "This is the last time it happens."

Sometimes Tsiganok did not return till midday. My uncles and grandfather hurried out to the yard to meet him, and grandmother ambled after them like a bear, taking snuff with a determined air, because it was her hour for taking it. The children ran out, and the joyful unloading of the sledge began. It was full of pork, dead birds, and joints of all kinds of meat.

"Have you bought all we told you to?" asked grandfather, probing the load with a sidelong glance of his sharp eyes.

"Yes, it is all right," answered Ivan gaily, as he jumped about the yard, and slapped his mittened hands together, to warm himself.

"Don't wear your mittens out. They cost money," said grandfather sternly. "Have you any change?"

"No."

Grandfather walked quietly round the load and said in a low tone:

"Again you have bought too much. However, you can't do it without money, can you? I 'll have no more of this." And he strode away scowling.

My uncles joyfully set to work on the load, whistling as they balanced bird, fish, goose-giblets, calves' feet, and enormous pieces of meat on their hands.

"Well, that was soon unloaded!" they cried with loud approval.

Uncle Michael especially was in raptures, jumping about the load, sniffing hard at the poultry, smacking his lips with relish, closing his restless eyes in ecstasy. He resembled his father; he had the same dried-up appearance, only he was taller and his hair was dark.

Slipping his chilled hands up his sleeves, he inquired of Tsiganok:

"How much did my father give you?"

"Five roubles."

"There is fifteen roubles' worth here! How much did you spend?"

"Four roubles, ten kopecks."

"Perhaps the other ninety kopecks is in your pocket.