"And where is thy mother?"—Efrém asked her.
"She 's asleep in the kennel."
"Well, let her sleep. Akím Semyónitch, won't you please come into the house?"
(It must be observed that Efrém addressed him as "thou" only when he was intoxicated. Far more important persons than he addressed Akím as "you.")
Akím entered the chanter's cottage.
"Pray, come hither to the bench,"—said Efrém.—"Run along, you little rogues,"—he shouted at three other brats who, along with two emaciated cats bespattered with ashes, suddenly made their appearance from various corners of the room.—"Run away! Scat! Here, Akím Semyónitch, come here,"—he went on, as he seated his guest:—"and would n't you like something?"
"What shall I say to thee, Efrém?"—articulated Akím at last.—"Could n't I have some liquor?"
Efrém gave a start.
"Liquor? Certainly. I have none in the house,—liquor, that is to say,—but here, I 'll run at once to Father Feódor. He always has some on hand..... I 'll be back in a jiffy...."
And he snatched up his large-eared cap.