ssively.

"Ah, that is a fine thing," he said, shaking his finger at the
samovar. "That's a fine thing. You will come back from the high
school such a gentleman that we shall all take off our hats to you.
You will be wealthy and wise and so grand that your mamma will be
delighted. Oh, that's a fine thing!"

He paused a little, stroked his knees, and began again in a jocose
and deferential tone.

"You must excuse me, Father Christopher, but I am thinking of writing
to the bishop to tell him you are robbing the merchants of their
living. I shall take a sheet of stamped paper and write that I
suppose Father Christopher is short of pence, as he has taken up
with trade and begun selling wool."

"H'm, yes . . . it's a queer notion in my old age," said Father
Christopher, and he laughed. "I have turned from priest to merchant,
brother. I ought to be at home now saying my prayers, instead of
galloping about the country like a Pharaoh in his chariot. . . .
Vanity!"

"But it will mean a lot of pence!"

"Oh, I dare say! More kicks than halfpence, and serve me right. The
wool's not mine, but my son-in-law MikhailOs!"

"Why doesn't he go himself?"

"Why, because . . . His mother's milk is scarcely dry upon his lips.
He can buy wool all right, but when it comes to selling, he has no
sense; he is young yet. He has wasted all his money; he wanted to
grow rich and cut a dash, but he tried here and there, and no one
would give him his price. And so the lad went on like that for a
year, and then he came to me and said, 'Daddy, you sell the wool
for me; be kind and do it! I am no good at the business!' And that
is true enough. As soon as there is anything wrong then it's 'Daddy,'
but till then they could get on without their dad. When he was
buying he did not consult me, but now when he is in difficulties
it's Daddy's turn. And what does his dad know about it? If it were
not for Ivan Ivanitch, his dad could do nothing. I have a lot of
worry with them."

"Yes; one has a lot of worry with one's children, I can tell you
that," sighed Moisey Moisevitch. "I have six of my own. One needs
schooling, another needs doctoring, and a third needs nursing, and
when they grow up they are more trouble still. It is not only
nowadays, it was the same in Holy Scripture. When Jacob had little
children he wept, and when they grew up he wept still more bitterly."

"H'm, yes . . ." Father Christopher assented pensively, looking at
his glass. "I h