“What knowledge! … Where does he get it?” she thought, and went on spinning. The paper which had held the specific fell to the floor. Akoulína did not let this pass unnoticed.
“Annie,” she cried, “look! Father has dropped something. Pick it up!”
Annie put out her thin little bare legs from under the cloak with which she was covered, slid down under the table like a kitten, and got the paper.
“Here, daddy,” she said, and with her little chilled feet darted back into bed.
“Don’t puth!” squeaked her lisping younger sister sleepily.
“I’ll give it you!” muttered Akoulína; and both heads disappeared again under the cloak.
“He’ll give me three roubles,” said Polikéy, corking up the bottle. “I’ll cure the horse. It’s even too cheap,” he added, “brain-splitting work! … Akoulína, go and ask Nikíta for a little ’baccy. I’ll return it tomorrow;” and Polikéy took out of his trouser-pocket a limewood pipe-stem which had once been painted, with a mouthpiece of sealing-wax, and began fixing it on to the bowl.
Akoulína left her spindle and went out, managing to steer clear of everything—though this was not easy. Polikéy opened the cupboard and put away the medicine, then tilted a vodka bottle into his mouth, but it was empty, and he made a grimace; but when his wife brought the tobacco he sat down on the edge of the bed after filling and lighting his pipe, and his face shone with the content and pride of a man who has completed his day’s task. Whether he was thinking how on the morrow he would catch hold of a horse’s tongue and pour his wonderful mixture down its throat, or considering the fact that a useful person never gets a