'Warm myself? Yes, I'll do that,' said Vasili Andreevich. 'It won't get
darker. The moon will rise and it will be lighter. Let's go in and warm
ourselves, Nikita.'

'Well, why not? Let us warm ourselves,' replied Nikita, who was stiff
with cold and anxious to warm his frozen limbs.

Vasili Andreevich went into the room with the old man, and Nikita drove
through the gate opened for him by Petrushka, by whose advice he backed
the horse under the penthouse. The ground was covered with manure and
the tall bow over the horse's head caught against the beam. The hens
and the cock had already settled to roost there, and clucked peevishly,
clinging to the beam with their claws. The disturbed sheep shied and
rushed aside trampling the frozen manure with their hooves. The dog
yelped desperately with fright and anger and then burst out barking like
a puppy at the stranger.

Nikita talked to them all, excused himself to the fowls and assured
them that he would not disturb them again, rebuked the sheep for being
frightened without knowing why, and kept soothing the dog, while he tied
up the horse.

'Now that will be all right,' he said, knocking the snow off his
clothes. 'Just hear how he barks!' he added, turning to the dog. 'Be
quiet, stupid! Be quiet. You are only troubling yourself for nothing.
We're not thieves, we're friends. . . .'

'And these are, it's said, the three domestic counsellors,' remarked the
lad, and with his strong arms he pushed under the pent-roof the sledge
that had remained outside.