He sat down at the table, murmuring:
"Pour out—"
Everything in the room was in its old place. Only my mother's corner was sadly empty, and on the wall over grandfather's bed hung a sheet of paper on which was inscribed in large, printed letters:
"Jesus save, Life of the world! May Thy holy name be with me all the days and hours of my life!"
"Who wrote that?"
Grandfather did not reply, and grandmother, waiting a little, said with a smile:
"The price of that paper is—a hundred rubles!"
"That is not your business!" cried grandfather. "I give away everything to others."
"It is all right to give now, but time was when you did not give," said grandmother, calmly.
"Hold your tongue!" he shrieked.