One day Liddoff, the priest, came to the house with a
great roll of paper in his hand.

"What is it?" asked Serge.

"It is the alphabet," said Liddoff.

"Give it to me," said Serge with eagerness.

"Not all of it," said Liddoff gently. "Here is part of
it," and he tore off a piece and gave it to the boy.

"Defend us!" said Yump, the cook. "It is not a wise
thing," and she shook her head as she put a new lump of
clay in the wooden stove to make it burn more brightly.

Then everybody knew that Serge was learning the alphabet,
and that when he had learned it he was to go to Moscow,
to the Teknik, and learn what else there was.

So the days passed and the months. Presently Ivan Ivanovitch
said, "Now he is ready," and he took down a bag of rubles
that was concealed on a shelf beside the wooden stove in
the kitchen and counted them out after the Russian fashion,
"Ten, ten, and yet ten, and still ten, and ten," till he
could count no further.

"Protect us!" said Yump. "Now he is rich!" and she poured
oil and fat mixed with sand into the bread and beat it
with a stick.