“Grandfather, what is it whistles in you?” Pashka asked.
The old man made no answer. Pashka waited a little and asked:
“Grandfather, where is the fox?”
“What fox?”
“The live one.”
“Where should it be? In the forest!”
A long time passed, but the doctor still did not appear. The nurse brought in tea, and scolded Pashka for not having saved any bread for his tea; the assistant came once more and set to work to wake Mihailo. It turned blue outside the windows, the wards were lighted up, but the doctor did not appear. It was too late now to go to the fair and catch finches; Pashka stretched himself on his bed and began thinking. He remembered the candy promised him by the doctor, the face and voice of his mother, the darkness in his hut at home, the stove, peevish granny Yegorovna . . . and he suddenly felt sad and dreary. He remembered that his mother was coming for him next day, smiled, and shut his eyes.
He was awakened by a rustling. In the next ward someone was stepping about and speaking in a whisper. Three figures were moving about Mihailo’s bed in the dim light of the night-light and the ikon lamp.
“Shall we take him, bed and all, or without?” asked one of them.
“Without. You won’t get through the door with the bed.”