Andreevich.

'Well, we can do that,' said the eldest son. 'Petrushka will harness and
go that far with you.'

'Well, then, put in the horse, lad, and I shall be thankful to you for
it.'

'Oh, what for, dear man?' said the kindly old woman. 'We are heartily
glad to do it.'

'Petrushka, go and put in the mare,' said the eldest brother.

'All right,' replied Petrushka with a smile, and promptly snatching his
cap down from a nail he ran away to harness.

While the horse was being harnessed the talk returned to the point at
which it had stopped when Vasili Andreevich drove up to the window. The
old man had been complaining to his neighbour, the village elder, about
his third son who had not sent him anything for the holiday though he
had sent a French shawl to his wife.

'The young people are getting out of hand,' said the old man.

'And how they do!' said the neighbour. 'There's no managing them! They
know too much. There's Demochkin now, who broke his father's arm. It's
all from being too clever, it seems.'

Nikita listened, watched their faces, and evidently would have liked to
share in the conversation, but he was too busy drinking his tea and only