Semén sewed together a piece of paper, ten inches in length, smoothed it out, knelt down, carefully wiped his hand on his apron so as not to soil the gentleman's stocking, and began to measure. He measured the sole, then the instep, and then the calf, but there the paper was not long enough. His leg at the calf was as thick as a log.
"Be sure and do not make them too tight in the boot-leg!"
Semén sewed up another piece to the strip. The gentleman sat and moved his toes in his stocking, and watched the people in the room. He caught sight of Mikháyla.
"Who is that man there?" he asked.
"That is my master workman,—he will make those boots."
"Remember," said the gentleman to Mikháyla, "remember! Make them so that they will wear a year."
Semén, too, looked at Mikháyla, and he saw that Mikháyla was not looking at the gentleman, but gazed at the corner, as though he saw some one there. Mikháyla looked and looked, suddenly smiled and shone bright.
"What makes you show your teeth, fool? You had better be sure and get the boots in time."
And Mikháyla said:
"They will be done in time."