“I say I once went to Pashútino in half an hour,” shouted Vasíli Andréevich.
“It goes without saying that he’s a good horse,” replied Nikíta.
They were silent for a while. But Vasíli Andréevich wished to talk.
“Well, did you tell your wife not to give the cooper any vodka?” he began in the same loud tone, quite convinced that Nikíta must feel flattered to be talking with so clever and important a person as himself, and he was so pleased with his jest that it did not enter his head that the remark might be unpleasant to Nikíta.
The wind again prevented Nikíta’s hearing his master’s words.
Vasíli Andréevich repeated the jest about the cooper in his loud, clear voice.
“That’s their business, Vasíli Andréevich. I don’t pry into their affairs. As long as she doesn’t ill-treat our boy—God be with them.”
“That’s so,” said Vasíli Andréevich. “Well, and will you be buying a horse in spring?” he went on, changing the subject.
“Yes, I can’t avoid it,” answered Nikíta, turning down his collar and leaning back towards his master.
The conversation now became interesting to him and he did not wish to lose a word.
“The lad’s growing up. He must begin to plough for himself, but till now we’ve always had to hire someone,” he said.
“Well, why not have the lean-cruppered one. I won’t charge much for it,” shouted Vasíli Andréevich, feeling animated, and consequently starting