"Not so often as they used to."
The doctor burst into a hoarse laugh.
"It is all for the best, my friend, all for the best." When he took me back to my master he said to him:
"I hand him over to you; he is repaired. Bring him back to-morrow without fail. I congratulate you. He is a comical fellow you have there."
When we were in the cab my master said to me:
"They used to beat me too, Pyeshkov. What do you think of that? They did beat me, my lad! And you have me to pity you; but I had no one, no one. People are very hard everywhere; but one gets no pity—no, not from any one. Ekh! Wild fowl!"
He grumbled all the way home. I was very sorry for him, and grateful to him for treating me like a man.
They welcomed me at the house as if it had been my name-day. The women insisted on hearing in detail how the doctor had treated me and what he had said. They listened and sighed, then kissed me tenderly, wrinkling their brows. This intense interest in illness, pain, and all kinds of unpleasantness always amazed me.
I saw that they were pleased with me for not complaining of them, and I took advantage of the moment to ask if I might have some books from the tailor's wife. They did not have the heart to refuse me. Only the old lady cried in surprise:
"What a demon he is!"