andmamma in a tone implying that Papa's inquiries were
out of place and highly offensive. "Please give me a clean
pocket-handkerchief," she added to Gasha.

"I HAVE given you one, madam," answered Gasha, pointing to the
snow-white cambric handkerchief which she had just laid on the arm of
Grandmamma's chair.

"No, no; it's a nasty, dirty thing. Take it away and bring me a CLEAN
one, my dear."

Gasha went to a cupboard and slammed the door of it back so violently
that every window rattled. Grandmamma glared angrily at each of us, and
then turned her attention to following the movements of the servant.
After the latter had presented her with what I suspected to be the same
handkerchief as before, Grandmamma continued:

"And when do you mean to cut me some snuff, my dear?"

"When I have time."

"What do you say?"

"To-day."

"If you don't want to continue in my service you had better say so at
once. I would have sent you away long ago had I known that you wished
it."

"It wouldn't have broken my heart if you had!" muttered the woman in an
undertone.

Here the doctor winked at her again, but she returned his gaze so firmly
and wrathfully that he soon lowered it and went on playing with his
watch-key.

"You see, my dear, how people speak to me in my own house!" said
Grandmamma to Papa when Gasha had left the room grumbling.

"Well, Mamma, I will cut you some snuff myself," replied Papa, though
evidently at a loss how to proceed now that he had made this rash
promise.

"No, no, I thank you. Probably she is cross because she knows that no
one except herself can cut the snuff just as I like it. Do you know, my
dear," she went on after a pause, "that your children very nearly set
the house on fire this morning?"

Papa gazed at Grandmamma with respectful astonishment.

"Yes, they were playing with something or another. Tell him the story,"
she added to Mimi.

Papa could not help smiling as he took the shot in his hand.

"This is only small shot, Mamma," he remarked, "and could never be
dangerous."

"I thank you, my dear, for your instruction, but I am rather too old for
that sort of thing."

"Nerves, nerves!" whispered the doctor.

Papa turned to us and asked us where we had got the stuff, and how we
could dare to play with it.

"Don't ask THEM, ask that useless 'Uncle,' rather," put in Grandmamma,
laying a peculiar stress upon the word "UNCLE." "What else is he for?"

"Woloda says that Karl Ivanit