in his pocket, rammed his silk hat sorrowfully on his head and set off for the captain's house. He found Mrs. Zarubkin pacing the room excitedly, greeted her, but carefully avoided meeting her eyes.
"Well, what did you find out?"
"Nothing, Mrs. Zarubkin," said Abramka dejectedly. "Unfortunately I couldn't find out a thing."
"Idiot! I have no patience with you. Where are the fashion plates?"
"Here, Mrs. Zarubkin."
She turned the pages, looked at one picture after the other, and suddenly her eyes shone and her cheeks reddened.
"Oh, Empire! The very thing. Empire is the very latest. Make this one for me," she cried commandingly.
Abramka turned pale.
"Ampeer, Mrs. Zarubkin? I can't make that Ampeer dress for you," he murmured.
"Why not?" asked the captain's wife, giving him a searching look.
"Because—because—I can't."
"Oh—h—h, you can't? You know why you can't. Because that is the style of Mrs. Shaldin's dress. So that is the reliability you boast so about? Great!"
"Mrs. Zarubkin, I will make any other dress you choose, but it is absolutely impossible for me to make this one."
"I don't need your fashion plates, do you hear me? Get out of here, and don't ever show your face again."
"Mrs. Zarubkin, I"
"Get out of here," repeated the captain's wife, quite beside herself.
The poor tailor stuck his yard measure, which he had already taken out, back into his pocket and left.
Half an hour later the captain's wife was entering a train for Kiev, carrying a large package which contained material for a dress. The captain had accompanied her to the station with a pucker in his forehead. That was five days before the ball.
•••••••
At the ball two expensive Empire gowns stood out con-
