looked gloomily into the garden. Clearly something was agitating his
consciousness, something that needed deciding. Kirsha quietly walked
up to him, stepping softly upon the white, warm floor with his
sunburnt graceful feet, high in instep, and with long, beautiful,
well-formed toes. He touched his father on the shoulder, quietly
rested his sunburnt hand there, and said:

"You know, daddy, that I seldom do this, only when I must. I felt very
much troubled to-day. I knew that something would happen."

"What will happen?" asked his father.

"I have a feeling," said Kirsha with a pleading voice, "that you must
let them in to us--these inquisitive girls."

Trirodov looked very attentively at his son and smiled. Kirsha said
gravely:

"The elder one is very charming. In some way she is like mother. But
the other is also nice."

"What brings them here?" again asked Trirodov. "They might have waited
until their elders brought them here."

Kirsha smiled, sighed lightly, and said thoughtfully, shrugging his
small shoulders:

"All women are curious. What's to be done with them?"

Smiling now joyously, now gravely, Trirodov asked: