“Of course, it is a childish trick. God be with him,” said she, pointing to the boy.
The woman was just about to lift the bag upon her shoulder, when the boy ran up, and says, “Let me carry it, bábushka: it is on my way.”
The old woman nodded her head, and put the bag on the boy’s back.
Side by side they both passed along the street. And the old woman even forgot to ask Avdyéitch to pay for the apple.
Avdyéitch stood motionless, and kept gazing after them; and he heard them talking all the time as they walked away. After Avdyéitch saw them disappear, he returned to his room; he found his eye-glasses on the stairs,—they were not broken; he picked up his awl, and sat down to work again.
After working a little while, it grew darker, so that he could not see to sew: he saw the lamplighter passing by to light the street-lamps.
“It must be time to make a light,” he thought to himself; so he fixed his little lamp, hung it up, and betook himself again to work. He had one boot already finished; he turned it around, looked at it: “Well done.” He put away his tools, swept off the cuttings, cleared off the bristles and ends, took the lamp, put it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf. He intended to open the book at the very place where he had yesterday put a piece of leather as a mark, but it happened to open at another place; and the moment Avdyéitch opened the Testament, he recollected his last night’s dream. And as soon as he remembered it, it seemed as though he heard some one stepping about behind him. Avdyéitch looked around, and sees—there, in the dark corner, it seemed as though
