When the market was opened, Phoma, to every one's surprise, went as waiter to a tavern. I do not say that his mates were surprised, but they all began to treat him mockingly. On holidays they would all go together to drink tea, saying to one another:
"Let us go and see our Phoma."
And when they arrived at the tavern they would call out:
"Hi, waiter! Curly mop, come here!"
He would come to them and ask, with his head held high:
"What can I get for you?"
"Don't you recognize acquaintances now?"
"I never recognize any one."
He felt that his mates despised him and were making fun of him, and he looked at them with dully expectant eyes. His face might have been made of wood, but it seemed to say:
"Well, make haste; laugh and be done with it."