papa and Pavel Andreyitch after all: they have gold watch-chains
and nice suits, their boots are always polished; but to marry that
dreadful cabman with a red nose and felt boots. . . . Fi! And why
is it nurse wants poor Pelageya to be married?"

When the visitor had gone out of the kitchen, Pelageya appeared and
began clearing away. Her agitation still persisted. Her face was
red and looked scared. She scarcely touched the floor with the
broom, and swept every corner five times over. She lingered for a
long time in the room where mamma was sitting. She was evidently
oppressed by her isolation, and she was longing to express herself,
to share her impressions with some one, to open her heart.

"He's gone," she muttered, seeing that mamma would not begin the
conversation.

"One can see he is a good man," said mamma, not taking her eyes off
her sewing. "Sober and steady."

"I declare I won't marry him, mistress!" Pelageya cried suddenly,
flushing crimson. "I declare I won't!"

"Don't be silly; you are not a child. It's a serious step; you must
think it over thoroughly, it's no use talking nonsense. Do you like
him?"

"What an idea, mistress!" cried Pelageya, abashed. "They say such
things that . . . my goodness. . . ."

"She should say she doesn't like him!" thought Grisha.