"Listen to that, Vasika! The barin says that you and I too are frogs. My word!"
"I don't like frogs," remarked Vasika, a barefooted boy of seven with a head as white as tow, and a costume made up of a grey blouse and a stiff collar.
"Why don't you like them?" asked Bazarov. "Do you think they will bite you? Nay! Into the water, my young philosophers!"
Nikolai Petrovitch too had left his bed, and, on going to visit Arkady, found him fully dressed; wherefore father and son proceeded to repair to the terrace, and there seated themselves under the shade of the awning. Amid nosegays of lilac, a tea-urn was simmering on a table by the balustrade, and presently there appeared upon the scene also the damsel who, on the previous night, had met the arrivals on the verandah. She announced in shrill tones:
"Theodosia Nikolaevna is not very well this morning, and cannot come to breakfast. So she has told me to ask you whether you will pour out tea for yourselves, or whether she is to send Duniasha?"
"I will pour it out myself," Nikolai Petrovitch replied with some haste. "Will you have cream or lemon in your tea, Arkady?"
"Cream," he replied. After a pause he continued:
"Papasha——"
Nikolai Petrovitch glanced confusedly in his direction.
"Yes?" said he.