Holding up the bag of provisions in her left hand she stood still to watch the dog.
Though Kolya had been so anxious for her return, he did not cut short the performance, and after keeping Perezvon dead for the usual time, at last he whistled to him. The dog jumped up and began bounding about in his joy at having done his duty.
"Only think, a dog!" Agafya observed sententiously.
"Why are you late, female?" asked Krassotkin sternly.
"Female, indeed! Go on with you, you brat."
"Brat?"
"Yes, a brat.
What is it to you if I'm late; if I'm late, you may be sure I have good reason," muttered Agafya, busying herself about the stove, without a trace of anger or displeasure in her voice. She seemed quite pleased, in fact, to enjoy a skirmish with her merry young master.
"Listen, you frivolous young woman," Krassotkin began, getting up from the sofa, "can you swear by all you hold sacred in the world and something else besides, that you will watch vigilantly over the kids in my absence?
I am going out."
"And what am I going to swear for?" laughed Agafya. "I shall look after them without that."
"No, you must swear on your eternal salvation.
Else I shan't go."
"Well, don't then.
What does it matter to me? It's cold out; stay at home."
"Kids," Kolya turned to the children, "this woman will stay with you till I come back or till your mother comes, for she ought to have been back long ago.
She will give you some lunch, too.
You'll give them something, Agafya, won't you?"
"That I can do."
"Good-bye, chickens, I go with my heart at rest.
And you, granny," he added gravely, in an undertone, as he passed Agafya, "I hope you'll spare their tender years and not tell them any of your old woman's nonsense about Katerina.
Ici, Perezvon!"
"Get along with you!" retorted Agafya, really angry this time. "Ridiculous boy!
You want a whipping for saying such things, that's what you want!"
Chapter 3.
The Schoolboy
BUT Kolya did not hear her.
At last he could go out.
As he went out at the gate he looked round him, shrugged up his shoulders, and saying
"It is freezing," went straight along the street and turned off to the right towards the market-place.
When he reached the last house but one before the market-place he stopped at the gate, pulled a whistle out of his pocket, and whistled with all his might as though giving a signal.
He had not to wait more than a minute before a rosy-cheeked boy of about eleven, wearing a warm, neat and even stylish coat, darted out to meet him.
This was Smurov, a boy in the preparatory class (two classes below Kolya Krassotkin), son of a well-to-do official. Apparently he was forbidden by his parents to associate with Krassotkin, who was well known to be a desperately naughty boy, so Smurov was obviously slipping out on the sly.
He was- if the reader has not forgotten one of the group of boys who two months before had thrown stones at Ilusha. He was the one who told Alyosha about Ilusha.
"I've been waiting for you for the last hour, Krassotkin," said Smurov stolidly, and the boys strode towards the market-place.
"I am late," answered Krassotkin. "I was detained by circumstances.
You won't be thrashed for coming with me?"
"Come, I say, I'm never thrashed!
And you've got Perezvon with you?"
"Yes."
"You're taking him, too?"
"Yes."
"Ah! if it were only Zhutchka!"
"That's impossible.
Zhutchka's non-existent.
Zhutchka is lost in the mists of obscurity."
"Ah! couldn't we do this?" Smurov suddenly stood still. "You see Ilusha says that Zhutchka was a shaggy, greyish, smoky-looking dog like Perezvon. Couldn't you tell him this is Zhutchka, and he might believe you?"
"Boy, shun a lie, that's one thing; even with a good object- that's another.
Above all, I hope you've not told them anything about my coming."
"Heaven forbid! I know what I am about.