With his brown eyes sparkling he said:
"Well, at Serpoukhov I saw a priest sitting in a sledge. 'Father,' I said, 'give something to a Turkish hero.'"
Ardalon shook his head and said:
"That's a lie!"
"Why should I lie?" asked Robenok, not in the least offended, and my friend growled in lazy reproof:
"You are incorrigible! You have the chance of becoming a watchman—they always put lame men to that job—and you stroll about aimlessly, and tell lies."
"Well, I only do it to make people laugh. I lie just for the sake of amusement."
"You ought to laugh at yourself."
In the yard, which was dark and dirty although the weather was dry and sunny, a woman appeared and cried, waving some sort of a rag about her head:
"Who will buy a petticoat? Hi, friends!"