“Of course, that’s quite right!” some voices said.

“In my opinion,” continued Egór Miháylovitch, “Harúshkin and Váska Mitúhin must go; that is evidently God’s will.”

“Yes, that’s quite right!” said the voices.

“… The third will have to be one of the Doútlofs, or one out of a two-men family.⁠ ⁠… What do you say?”

“Doútlof!” cried the voices. “There are three of them of the right age!”

And again, slowly, slowly, the shouting increased, and somehow the question of the strip of kitchen-garden and some kind of sacks stolen from the mistress’s yard came up again. Egór Miháylovitch had been managing the estate for the last twenty years, and he was a clever and experienced man. He stood and listened for about a quarter of an hour, then he ordered everybody to be quiet and the three younger Doútlofs to draw lots, to see which of the three was to go.