"I say," Olga suggested suddenly as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Would you mind seeing me to the station?
I'm expecting my younger sister.
It's quite late and dark already and there's no sign of her.
I'm not afraid of anyone, but I don't know my way around here yet.
Wait a moment, though! What are you opening the gate for?
You can wait for me outside!"
She put the accordion away, threw a shawl over her shoulders and stepped out into the dark street that was scented with dew and flowers.
Olga hardly spoke to her companion because she was angry with Jenny.
He told her his name was George Garayev and that he worked at a motor works.
Two trains went by, and still no Jenny. Then the third and last train came and went.
"You can't imagine the trouble that kid causes me!" Olga exclaimed. "If I were forty, or at least thirty, then it would be different.
But she's thirteen and I'm eighteen, and she just won't do anything I tell her."
"No need to be forty!" George said firmly. "Eighteen's much better!
And there's nothing to worry about: your sister'll come tomorrow morning."
The platform emptied out.
George took out his cigarette case, and at once two tough-looking youngsters swaggered up to him, cigarettes in hand, and stood waiting for a light.
"Young man," said George, striking a match and holding it close to the older boy's face. "Before asking for a light you ought to say 'hello'. I've already had the honour of making your acquaintance in the park where you were so diligently pulling a board out of a new fence.
Your name's Mikhail Kvakin, isn't it?"
The boy backed away. George blew out the match and offered Olga his arm to walk her home.
When they were out of earshot the second boy stuck his soiled cigarette behind his ear and drawled:
"Who's that agitator?
He from hereabouts?"
"Uh-hu," Kvakin said wryly. "That's Timur Garayev's uncle.
We ought to get hold of Timur and punch his nose for him.
He's gone and got a gang together and it looks like they're out to get us."
Just then the boys caught sight of an old gentleman under the lamp-post at the end of the platform. He was walking down the steps leaning on his stick.
The man was Doctor Kolokolchikov, a local resident.
They rushed after him asking loudly for matches.
The old gentleman did not seem to like their looks or their manners, for he turned round and brandished his gnarled stick at them. Then he continued sedately on his way.
Jenny did not have time to send the wire to her father from the station in Moscow, so when she got off the train she decided to look for the local post office.
She sauntered through an old park, gathering harebells, and did not notice how she came out to a crossing of two roads bounded by gardens. The deserted appearance of the place clearly indicated that this was not the part of the estate that she had been looking for.
Not far away she saw a small, agile girl who was pulling a stubborn goat along by the horns and cursing it roundly in the process.
"Hey, will you tell me the way to the post office please?" Jenny called out to her.
But just then the goat wrenched free, tossed its horns and started across the park at a gallop with the wailing girl in hot pursuit.
Jenny looked around her: dusk was falling and not a soul in sight.
She opened a gate at random and walked up the path to the porch of a grey, two-storey villa.
"Can you please tell me," Jenny addressed the closed door in a loud but very polite voice, "how to get from here to the post office?"
There was no reply.
She stood there for a while thinking, then opened the door, entered the hall and walked into a room.
Nobody seemed to be at home.
Feeling rather guilty, she turned to go out again but was brought up short by the noiseless appearance of a large, tawny dog from under the table.
The dog studied the flustered girl for several moments and then, with a low growl, draped itself across the threshold.
"Don't be silly!" Jenny cried, spreading out her fingers in fear. "I'm not a burglar!
I haven't taken anything!
Look, this is the key to our flat, and this is the telegram for Dad.
My father's an officer, understand?"
The dog did not stir.
Jenny, edging her way surreptitiously toward the open window, went on:
"See?
Just you stay where you are. You're a nice doggie, so clever and sweet."