Tverskaya-Yamskaya, in a little brick-built house. I knew it by sight.
"That's where our headmaster lives," I said. "Maybe you know him-Nikolai Antonich."
(*In those days of inflation a million ruble treasury note was popularly called a "lemon". -Tr.).
"Is that so!" the old lady said. "And what's he like? Is he a good Head?"
"Rather!"
I couldn't make out why she laughed. We went upstairs and stopped in front of a door upholstered in clean oilcloth. There was a name on the doorplate written in fanciful lettering which I hadn't time to read.
Whispering to herself, the old woman drew a key from her coat. I turned to go, but she stopped me.
"I did it for nothing. Grandma."
"Then sit with me a bit for nothing."
She tiptoed into the little entrance hall and began to take her coat off without putting on the light. She removed the coat, a tasselled shawl, a sleeveless jacket, then another smaller shawl, a kerchief and so on. Then she opened her umbrella and after that she disappeared. The next moment the kitchen door opened and a little girl appeared in the doorway. I was almost ready to believe that this was my old lady who had magically turned into a little girl. But the next moment the old lady herself reappeared. She stepped out of a cupboard in which she had been hanging up her shawls and things.
"And this is Katerina Ivanovna," she said.
Katerina Ivanovna was about twelve, no older than I. But what a difference! I wish I had the same poise she had, the same proud set of the head, the same way of looking one straight in the face with her dark bright eyes. She was rosy, but demure and had the same purposeful nose as the old lady. All in all, she was pretty, but gave herself airs-you could tell that at once.
"You can congratulate me, Katerina Ivanovna," the old lady said, peeling off more clothes. "They've pinched a lemon again."
"Didn't I tell you to keep your money in your coat pocket," Katerina Ivanovna said with annoyance.
"Coat pocket, you say? That's just where they pinched it from."
"Then you've been counting again. Grandma."
"No I wasn't! I had this young man here escorting me."
The girl looked at me. Till then she hadn't seemed to notice me.
"He carried my bag for me. How's your mother?"
"We're taking her temperature now," the girl said, regarding me coolly.
"Tut, tut!" the old lady said, thrown into a flutter. "Why so late? You know the doctor said she was to have it taken at noon."
She hurried out and the girl and I were left by ourselves. For two minutes or so we said nothing. Then frowning, she asked me gravely:
"Have you read Helen Robinson'!"
"No."
"Robinson CrusoeT
"No."
"Why not?"
I was about to tell her that it was only six months since I had learned to read properly, but checked myself in time.
"I haven't got them."
"What form are you in?"
"I'm not in any form."
"He's a traveller," said the old lady, coming back. "Ninety-eight point seven. He was footing it to Turkestan. Treat him nicely, Katya."
"Footing it? What d'you mean?"
"What I say. He hoofed it all the way."
In the hall, under the mirror, stood a little table, and Katya drew a chair up to it, settled herself in it with her head resting on her hand and said, "Well, tell me about it."
I had no desire to tell her anything-she gave herself such airs. If we had made it and got to Turkestan that would be a different matter. I therefore answered politely, "Oh, I don't feel like it. Some other time perhaps."
The old lady put bread and jam in front of me, but I declined it, saying, "I told you I did it for nothing."
I don't know why, but I got upset. I was even pleased that Katya had reddened when I refused to tell her my story and made for the door.
"Come, come, don't be angry," the old lady said as she saw me out.
"What's your name?"
"Grigoriev, Alexander."
"Well, Alexander Grigoriev, goodbye, and thank you."
I stood for a while on the landing, trying to make out the name on the doorplate. Kazarinov ... no, it wasn't
"That's where our headmaster lives," I said. "Maybe you know him-Nikolai Antonich."
(*In those days of inflation a million ruble treasury note was popularly called a "lemon". -Tr.).
"Is that so!" the old lady said. "And what's he like? Is he a good Head?"
"Rather!"
I couldn't make out why she laughed. We went upstairs and stopped in front of a door upholstered in clean oilcloth. There was a name on the doorplate written in fanciful lettering which I hadn't time to read.
Whispering to herself, the old woman drew a key from her coat. I turned to go, but she stopped me.
"I did it for nothing. Grandma."
"Then sit with me a bit for nothing."
She tiptoed into the little entrance hall and began to take her coat off without putting on the light. She removed the coat, a tasselled shawl, a sleeveless jacket, then another smaller shawl, a kerchief and so on. Then she opened her umbrella and after that she disappeared. The next moment the kitchen door opened and a little girl appeared in the doorway. I was almost ready to believe that this was my old lady who had magically turned into a little girl. But the next moment the old lady herself reappeared. She stepped out of a cupboard in which she had been hanging up her shawls and things.
"And this is Katerina Ivanovna," she said.
Katerina Ivanovna was about twelve, no older than I. But what a difference! I wish I had the same poise she had, the same proud set of the head, the same way of looking one straight in the face with her dark bright eyes. She was rosy, but demure and had the same purposeful nose as the old lady. All in all, she was pretty, but gave herself airs-you could tell that at once.
"You can congratulate me, Katerina Ivanovna," the old lady said, peeling off more clothes. "They've pinched a lemon again."
"Didn't I tell you to keep your money in your coat pocket," Katerina Ivanovna said with annoyance.
"Coat pocket, you say? That's just where they pinched it from."
"Then you've been counting again. Grandma."
"No I wasn't! I had this young man here escorting me."
The girl looked at me. Till then she hadn't seemed to notice me.
"He carried my bag for me. How's your mother?"
"We're taking her temperature now," the girl said, regarding me coolly.
"Tut, tut!" the old lady said, thrown into a flutter. "Why so late? You know the doctor said she was to have it taken at noon."
She hurried out and the girl and I were left by ourselves. For two minutes or so we said nothing. Then frowning, she asked me gravely:
"Have you read Helen Robinson'!"
"No."
"Robinson CrusoeT
"No."
"Why not?"
I was about to tell her that it was only six months since I had learned to read properly, but checked myself in time.
"I haven't got them."
"What form are you in?"
"I'm not in any form."
"He's a traveller," said the old lady, coming back. "Ninety-eight point seven. He was footing it to Turkestan. Treat him nicely, Katya."
"Footing it? What d'you mean?"
"What I say. He hoofed it all the way."
In the hall, under the mirror, stood a little table, and Katya drew a chair up to it, settled herself in it with her head resting on her hand and said, "Well, tell me about it."
I had no desire to tell her anything-she gave herself such airs. If we had made it and got to Turkestan that would be a different matter. I therefore answered politely, "Oh, I don't feel like it. Some other time perhaps."
The old lady put bread and jam in front of me, but I declined it, saying, "I told you I did it for nothing."
I don't know why, but I got upset. I was even pleased that Katya had reddened when I refused to tell her my story and made for the door.
"Come, come, don't be angry," the old lady said as she saw me out.
"What's your name?"
"Grigoriev, Alexander."
"Well, Alexander Grigoriev, goodbye, and thank you."
I stood for a while on the landing, trying to make out the name on the doorplate. Kazarinov ... no, it wasn't
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