But when she was satisfied in regard to the pot, she looked around and, seeing trim Tíkhonovna with her wallet and correct peasant attire, making the sign of the cross and bowing low toward the front corner, felt ashamed of her words and, as though regaining her consciousness after the cares which had worn her out, she put her hand to her breast, where beneath the collarbone buttons clasped her dress, and examined it to see whether it was buttoned, and then put her hands to her head to fasten the knot of the kerchief, which covered her greasy hair, and took up an attitude, leaning against the oven-fork and waiting for the salute of the trim old woman. Tíkhonovna made her last low obeisance to God, and turned around and saluted in three directions.

“God aid you, good day!” she said.

“You are welcome, aunty!” said the tailor.

“Thank you, granny, take off your wallet! Sit down here,” said the cook, pointing to a bench where sat the shaggy-haired man. “Move a little, can’t you? Are you stuck fast?”