“I’ll be blowed! I’ve gone and forgot my pipe. Here’s a go, lads!” repeated Velenchuk.
“You should smoke cikars , old fellow!” began Chikin, drawing his mouth to one side and winking. “There, now, I always smoke cikars when I’m at home—them’s sweeter.”
Of course everybody burst out laughing.
“Forgot your pipe, indeed!” interrupted Maksimov without heeding the general mirth, and beating the tobacco out of his pipe into the palm of his left hand with the proud air of a superior; “where did you vanish to—eh, Velenchuk?”
Velenchuk, half turning round to him, was about to raise his hand to his cap, but dropped it again.
“Seems to me you hadn’t your sleep out after yesterday—falling asleep when you are once up! It’s not thanks the likes of you get for such goings on.”
“May I die, Theodor Maksimov, if a drop has passed my lips; I don’t myself know what happened to me,” answered Velenchuk. “Much cause I had for revelling,” he muttered.
“Just so; but we have to answer to the authorities because of the likes of you, and you continue—it’s quite scandalous!” the eloquent Maksimov concluded in a calmer tone.
“It’s quite wonderful, lads,” Velenchuk went on after a moment’s silence, scratching his head and addressing no one in particular; “really quite