Tánya. Well, I thought, when they put out the lights, I'll at once begin knocking and shying things about, touching their heads with the threads, and at last I'll take the paper about the land and throw it on the table. I've got it here.
Betsy. Well, and then?
Tánya. Why, don't you see? They will be astonished. The peasants had the paper, and now it's here. I will teach....
Betsy. Why, of course! Simon is the medium to-day!
Tánya. Well, I'll teach him.... (Laughs so that she can't continue.) I'll tell him to squeeze with his hands any one he can get hold of! Of course, not your father—he'd never dare do that—but any one else; he'll squeeze till it's signed.
Betsy (laughing). But that's not the way it is done. Mediums never do anything themselves.
Tánya. Oh, never mind. It's all one; I daresay it'll turn out all right.
[Enter THEODORE IVÁNITCH.
[Exit BETSY, making signs to TÁNYA.
Theodore Ivánitch. Why are you here?