hing a pound. And there are shops with guns, like the master's,
and I am sure they must cost 100 rubles each. And in the meat-shops
there are woodcocks, partridges, and hares, but who shot them or where
they come from, the shopman won't say.

"Dear Grandpapa, and when the masters give a Christmas tree, take a
golden walnut and hide it in my green box. Ask the young lady, Olga
Ignatyevna, for it, say it's for Vanka."

Vanka sighed convulsively, and again stared at the window. He
remembered that his grandfather always went to the forest for the
Christmas tree, and took his grandson with him. What happy times! The
frost crackled, his grandfather crackled, and as they both did, Vanka
did the same. Then before cutting down the Christmas tree his
grandfather smoked his pipe, took a long pinch of snuff, and made fun
of poor frozen little Vanka... The young fir trees, wrapt in
hoar-frost, stood motionless, waiting for which of them would die.
Suddenly a hare springing from somewhere would dart over the
snowdrift... His grandfather could not help shouting:

"Catch it, catch it, catch it! Ah, short-tailed devil!"

When the tree was down, his grandfather dragged it to the master's
house, and there they set about decorating it. The young lady, Olga
Ignatyevna, Vanka's great friend, busied herself most about it. When
little Vanka's mother, Pelagueya, was still alive, and was
servant-woman in the house, Olga Ignatyevna used to stuff him with
sugar-candy, and, having nothing to do, taught him to read, write,
count up to one hundred, and even to dance the quadrille. When
Pelagueya died, they placed the orphan Vanka in the kitchen with his
grandfather, and from the kitchen he was sent to Moscow to Aliakhin,
the shoemaker.

"Come quick, dear Grandpapa," continued Vanka, "I beseech you for
Christ's sake take me from here. Have pity on a poor orphan, for here
they beat me, and I am frightfully hungry, and so sad that I can't
tell you, I cry all the time. The other day the master hit me on the
head with a last; I fell to the ground, and only just returned to
life. My life is a misfortune, worse than any dog's... I send
greetings to Aliona, to one-eyed Tegor, and the coachman, and don't
let any one have my mouth-organ. I remain, your grandson, Ivan Zhukov,
dear Grandpapa, do come."

Vanka folded his sheet of paper in four, and put it into an envelope
purchased the night before for a kopek. He thought a little, dipped
the pen into the