himself up before he found out his mistake.

And Vanya and Maroosia danced about the hut and chuckled.

Then they had supper, all three dipping their wooden spoons in the big
bowl together, and eating a tremendous lot of black bread. And, of
course, there were scraps for Vladimir and a bone for Bayan.

After that they had tea with sugar but no milk, because they were
Russians and liked it that way.

Then came the stories. Old Peter made another glass of tea for
himself, not for the children. His throat was old, he said, and took a
lot of keeping wet; and they were young, and would not sleep if they
drank tea too near bedtime. Then he threw a log of wood into the
stove. Then he lit a short little pipe, full of very strong tobacco,
called Mahorka, which has a smell like hot tin. And he puffed, and the
smoke got in his eyes, and he wiped them with the back of his big
hand.

All the time he was doing this Vanya and Maroosia were snuggling
together close by the stove, thinking what story they would ask for,
and listening to the crashing of the snow as it fell from the trees
outside. Now that old Peter was at home, the noise made them feel
comfortable and warm. Before, perhaps, it made them feel a little
frightened.

"Well, little pigeons, little hawks, little bear cubs, what is it to
be?" said old Peter.