Nan. Oh how lovely! It's as good as Stepanída's.
Akoulína. Stepanída's? What's Stepanída's compared to this? (Brightening up and undoing the parcels.) Just look here,—see the quality! It's a French one.
Nan. The print is fine! Mary has a dress like it, only lighter on a blue ground. This is pretty.
Nikíta. Ah, that's it!
[ANÍSYA passes angrily into the closet, returns with a tablecloth and the chimney of the Samovár, and goes up to the table.
Anísya. Drat you, littering the table!
Nikíta. You look here!
Anísya. What am I to look at? Have I never seen anything? Put it away!
[Sweeps the shawl on to the floor with her arm.
Akoulína. What are you pitching things down for? You pitch your own things about!