ikita, awaiting
a decision.

'It seems I must humour my old woman. But if you're coming you'd better
put on a warmer cloak,' said Vasili Andreevich, smiling again as he
winked at Nikita's short sheepskin coat, which was torn under the arms
and at the back, was greasy and out of shape, frayed to a fringe round
the skirt, and had endured many things in its lifetime.

'Hey, dear man, come and hold the horse!' shouted Nikita to the cook's
husband, who was still in the yard.

'No, I will myself, I will myself!' shrieked the little boy, pulling his
hands, red with cold, out of his pockets, and seizing the cold leather
reins.

'Only don't be too long dressing yourself up. Look alive!' shouted
Vasili Andreevich, grinning at Nikita.

'Only a moment, Father, Vasili Andreevich!' replied Nikita, and running
quickly with his inturned toes in his felt boots with their soles
patched with felt, he hurried across the yard and into the workmen's
hut.

'Arinushka! Get my coat down from the stove. I'm going with the master,'
he said, as he ran into the hut and took down his girdle from the nail
on which it hung.

The workmen's cook, who had had a sleep after dinner and was now getting
the samovar ready for her husband, turned cheerfully to Nikita, and
infected by his hurry began to move as quickly as he did, got down his
miserable worn-out cloth coat from the stove where it was drying, and
began hurriedly shaking it out and smoothing it down.

'There now, you'll have a chance of a holiday with your good man,' said
Nikita, who from kindhearted politeness always said something to anyone
he was alone with.

Then, drawing his worn narrow girdle round him, he drew in his breath,
pulling in his lean stomach still more, and girdled himself as tightly
as he could over his sheepskin.

'There now,' he said addressing himself no longer to the cook but the
girdle, as he tucked the ends in at the waist, 'now you won't come
undone!' And working his shoulders up and down to free his arms, he put
the coat over his sheepskin, arched his back more strongly to ease his
arms, poked himself under the armpits, and took down his leather-covered
mittens from the shelf. 'Now we're all right!'

'You ought to wrap your feet up, Nikita. Your boots are very bad.'

Nikita stopped as if he had suddenly realized this.

'Yes, I ought to.... But they'll do like this. It isn't far!' and he
ran out into the yard.

'Won't you be cold, Nikita?' said the mist