[Takes basin, and exit.
First Peasant. Who is going to dine now?
Tánya. Why, the dog! It's her dog. (Sits down and takes up the tea-pot.) Is there any more tea? I've brought some.
[Puts fresh tea into the tea-pot.
First Peasant. Dinner for a dog?
Tánya. Yes, of course! They prepare a special cutlet for her; it must not be too fat. And I do the washing—the dog's washing, I mean.
Third Peasant. Oh Lord!
Tánya. It's like that gentleman who had a funeral for his dog.
Second Peasant. What's that?
Tánya. Why, some one told me he had a dog—I mean the gentleman had a dog. And it died. It was winter, and he went in his sledge to bury that dog. Well, he buried it, and on the way home he sits and cries—the gentleman does. Well, there was such a bitter frost that the coachman's nose keeps running, and he has to keep wiping it. Let me fill your cup! (Fills it.) So he keeps wiping his nose, and the gentleman sees it, and says, "What are you crying about?" And the coachman, he says, "Why, sir, how can I help it; is there another dog like him?"