Anísya. I couldn't. The old man himself was in the room. I notice that sometimes he carries it about on him, and sometimes he hides it.
Matryóna. But you, my lass, must remember that if once he gives you the slip there's no getting it right again! (Whispering.) Well, and did you give him the strong tea?
Anísya. Oh! oh!...
[About to answer, but sees neighbor and stops.
[The NEIGHBOR (a woman) passes the hut, and listens to a call from within.
Neighbor (to Anísya). I say, Anísya! Oh, Anísya! There's your old man calling, I think.
Anísya. That's the way he always coughs,--just as if he were screaming. He's getting very bad.
Neighbor (approaches MATRYÓNA). How do you do, granny? Have you come far?
Matryóna. Straight from home, dear. Come to see my son. Brought him some shirts—can't help thinking of these things, you see, when it's one's own child.
Neighbor. Yes, that's always so. (To Anísya.) And I was thinking of beginning to bleach the linen, but it is a bit early, no one has begun yet.