Suddenly a noise was heard in the entry, and the door opened, admitting a person who, without saying a word, marched straight to one of the stoves, which served the purpose of a secretary, opened the stove-door, and drew out a bundle of papers.
"Hallo!" cried the new-comer, after examining the manuscript attentively, "the chapter on ventilators not finished yet!"
"Allow me to observe, uncle," replied the Turk, "the chapter on ventilators is one of the most interesting in your book, and requires to be studied with care. I am studying it."
"But you miserable fellow, you are always saying that same thing. And the chapter on stoves—where are you in that?"
"The stoves are going on well, but, by the way, uncle, if you could give me a little wood, it wouldn't hurt me. It is a little Siberia here. I am so cold, that I make a thermometer go down below zero by just looking at it."
"What! you've used up one faggot already?"
"Allow me to remark again, uncle, there are different kinds of faggots, and yours was the very smallest kind."
"I'll send you an economic log—that keeps the heat."
"Exactly, and doesn't give any."
"Well," said the uncle as he went off, "you shall have a little faggot, and I must have my chapter on stoves for tomorrow."