EPIKHODOV. [Hoarsely] You may depend upon me, Ermolai Alexeyevitch!
LOPAKHIN. What’s the matter with your voice?
EPIKHODOV. I swallowed something just now; I was having a drink of water.
YASHA. [Suspiciously] What manners....
LUBOV. We go away, and not a soul remains behind.
LOPAKHIN. Till the spring.
VARYA. [Drags an umbrella out of a bundle, and seems to be waving it about. LOPAKHIN appears to be frightened] What are you doing?... I never thought...
TROFIMOV. Come along, let’s take our seats... it’s time! The train will be in directly.
VARYA. Peter, here they are, your goloshes, by that trunk. [In tears] And how old and dirty they are....
TROFIMOV. [Putting them on] Come on!