To punish Jenny, Olga left for Moscow that evening without saying another word to her.
She had nothing to do in Moscow, so she looked in on a friend of hers instead of going straight home. It was almost ten by the time she got to the flat and saw a telegram pinned to the door.
Olga scanned the short message.
It was from their father.
Toward evening, when the vans began to leave the park, Jenny and Tanya ran home.
Jenny wanted to change into gym-shoes for a game of volleyball.
Just as she was tying her laces the mother of the fair-haired little girl entered the room.
The little girl lay asleep in her arms.
The woman was crestfallen when she learned that Olga was not at home.
"I wanted to ask your sister if I could leave my girl here," she said. "I didn't know she wasn't at home. The train arrives tonight, you see, and I have to be in Moscow to meet my mother."
"Leave her with me," said Jenny. "What if Olga isn't here—aren't I good enough?
Put her on my bed. I can sleep on the other one."
"She's sleeping quietly now and won't wake up till morning," the mother said, brightening. "All you have to do is to take a look at her and straighten her pillow now and then."
They undressed the little girl and put her to bed.
Her mother left.
Jenny pulled back the curtains so that she could see the bed from outside, and closed the door. Then the two girls dashed off to play volleyball, having settled that they would take turns running back to look at the child.
They had no sooner gone than a postman came up to the porch.
He knocked for a long time, and since there was no answer he crossed over to the neighbour's to inquire whether the people who lived in the cottage had moved back to town.
"No," the neighbour said. "The girl was here a moment ago.
I can give her the telegram."
The neighbour signed for the telegram, put it in his pocket, sat down on a bench, lit his pipe, and waited for Jenny.
An hour and a half later the postman came round again.
"Here's another one," he said. "What's all the fuss about?
Be a good fellow and sign for this telegram too."
The neighbour signed the book.
It was quite dark now.
He opened the gate, went up the steps to the porch and glanced through the window.
Inside, a little girl was asleep, with a tawny kitten curled up by her head.
That meant the owners were not far away.
He opened the top window and shoved the two telegrams through.
They fell neatly onto the windowsill, where Jenny was certain to notice them at once.
But Jenny did not notice them.
She came in, adjusted the child's pillow by the light of the moon, chased off the kitten, undressed and went to bed.
She lay for a long time thinking about Life!
It wasn't her fault, and it didn't seem to be Olga's either, yet there they were, having their first big quarrel.
Jenny was sad.
She could not fall asleep. She decided to eat a slice of bread and jam.
Jumping out of bed, she ran over to the cupboard, switched on the light—and saw the telegrams on the windowsill.
Her heart missed a beat.
With trembling fingers she tore open the telegrams.
The first read:
"Will stop over en route midnight to three in morning. Wait for me town flat."
The second read:
"Come immediately. Dad will be in town tonight. Olga."
Jenny glanced at the clock with a sinking heart.
It was a quarter to twelve.
Pulling on her dress and picking up the sleeping child, she dashed out onto the porch like one possessed.
Then she changed her mind.
She put the child back in bed, ran out of the house and made for the milkwoman's house.
There she pounded on the door with her fists and heels until the milkwoman's neighbour poked her head out of the window.