"Do look out, Elena!" cried Boris, who was carving a wooden man with an immense pocket-knife. "Here's a sledge stopped, and a funny tall gentleman getting out—not old, but all white!"
Elena went to the window, but the stranger had disappeared into the shop.
They could hear voices talking, now loud, now soft, then a cry of astonishment from Maria. The door burst open, and Volodia, his grey hair flying, the tears rolling down his cheeks, dragged in the white-haired gentleman by the hand.
"Oh, children! children! this is a happy day. The Barin's come home. This is your father!"
CHAPTER VIII.
The next morning Elena and Boris awoke with a delightful feeling of expectation.
It seemed impossible to realize that their father had really come back to them, and that he was dearer and kinder than anything they had imagined!
"If only mamma were here," sighed Elena, "how happy we should be!"
"Perhaps she knows," said Boris soberly. "She always told us papa was a hero, and I'm sure he looks like one."