By this time the putty had been chipped out, and the screws
removed, yet, though Nicola pulled with might and main at the
cross-piece, the window-frame refused to budge.

"If it comes out as soon as he and I begin to pull at it
together," I thought, "it will be rather a shame, as then I shall
have nothing more of the kind to do to-day."

Suddenly the frame yielded a little at one side, and came out.

"Where shall I put it?" I said.

"Let ME see to it, if you please," replied Nicola, evidently
surprised as well as, seemingly, not over-pleased at my zeal.
"We must not leave it here, but carry it away to the lumber-room,
where I keep all the frames stored and numbered."

"Oh, but I can manage it," I said as I lifted it up. I verily
believe that if the lumber-room had been a couple of versts away,
and the frame twice as heavy as it was, I should have been the
more pleased. I felt as though I wanted to tire myself out in
performing this service for Nicola. When I returned to the room
the bricks and screws had been replaced on the windowsill, and
Nicola was sweeping the debris, as well as a few torpid flies,
out of the open window. The fresh, fragrant air was rushing into
and filling all the room, while with it came also the dull murmur
of the city and the twittering of sparrows in the garden.
Everything was in brilliant light, the room looked cheerful, and
a gentle spring breeze was stirring Nicola's hair and the leaves
of my "Algebra." Approaching the window, I sat down upon the