To Moscow!"
Jenny squealed delightedly, hugged Timur with all her might and kissed him.
"Hop on, Jenny, hop on!" Timur shouted, trying to look stern. "Hold on tight!
Off we go!
Forward!"
The motor snorted, the horn honked and soon the red tail light was lost from view.
Nick, completely dazed, picked up a stick, and, holding it as though it were a rifle, tramped around the brightly lit cottage.
"Yes," he muttered, pacing importantly up and down. "A soldier's life is certainly tough!
No peace, night or day!"
It was getting on for three in the morning.
Colonel Alexandrov was sitting at a table on which was a pot of cold tea, some slices of salami sausage, cheese and bread.
"I'll have to go in half an hour," he said to Olga. "Pity I didn't get a chance to see Jenny.
Olya, are you crying?"
"I don't know why she hasn't come.
I'm so sorry for her, she wanted to see you so much.
Now she'll go right off her head.
And she's crazy enough as it is!"
"Olga," said her father, getting up. "Whatever you say I can't believe that Jenny would mix with a bad crowd, or that she could be led astray, or that anyone could order her about.
No!
It isn't like her!"
"There you go!" said Olga reproachfully. "You'll be telling her that next.
As it is I hear enough about her taking after you.
But you're wrong this time!
Would you believe she climbed onto the roof and let a rope down through the chimney.
Just as I was about to start ironing, the iron hopped out of my hand and went sailing up the chimney.
Dad, when you left she had four frocks.
Two are already in tatters.
She grew out of the third and I won't let her wear the fourth.
I made her three new frocks myself but they never last more'n a few days.
She's always covered with scratches and blue marks.
And when you talk to her she purses her lips and opens her blue eyes wide.
Of course, everybody thinks she's a pretty little flower, hardly a girl at all.
But just try and touch her!
Some flower!
More like a stinging nettle!
Dad, don't you go thinking she takes after you.
If you tell her that she'll be so full of herself she'll go dancing round the chimney-pots for three days running!"
"All right," agreed her father, giving her a hug. "I'll talk to her.
I'll write her a letter.
But you mustn't be too strict with her, Olga.
Tell her I love her dearly, that I think of her, that we'll soon be back and that she mustn't cry, because she's an officer's daughter."
"She'll cry all the same," said Olga, nestling close to him. "I'm also an officer's daughter, and I'll cry too."
Her father glanced at the clock, walked over to the mirror, put on his belt and straightened his tunic.
Suddenly the outside door opened and shut with a bang.
The hangings over the doorway were pulled aside and Jenny appeared, her shoulders hunched forward as though she were about to make a leap.
But instead of crying out or springing forward she glided noiselessly across the room and buried her face on her father's chest without uttering a sound.
Her forehead was spattered with mud, her crumpled dress all stained.
"Jenny, what does it mean?" Olga asked anxiously.
"How did you get here?"
Without turning her head, Jenny waved her hand as much as to say: