He looked into my eyes and asked again:
"Is it good?"
"No."
Then he bent over the hole, quickly covered it with the board, pressed the bricks into the earth with the iron, stood up, and, brushing the dirt from his knees, asked sternly:
"Why don't you like it?"
"I am sorry for the sparrow."
He stared at me with eyes which were perfectly stationary, like those of a blind person, and, striking my chest, cried:
"Fool, it is because you are envious that you say that you do not like it! I suppose you think that the one in your garden in Kanatnoe Street was better done."
I remembered my summer-house, and said with conviction:
"Certainly it was better."