"Are you a workingman, too?" asked Yefim, nodding his head toward the Little Russian.
"Yes," Andrey answered. "Why?"
"This is the first time he's seen factory workmen," explained Rybin. "He says they're different from others."
"How so?" Pavel asked.
Yefim looked carefully at Andrey and said:
"You have sharp bones; peasants' bones are rounder."
"The peasant stands more firmly on his feet," Rybin supplemented. "He feels the ground under him although he does not possess it. Yet he feels the earth. But the factory workingman is something like a bird. He has no home. To-day he's here, to-morrow there. Even his wife can't attach him to the same spot. At the least provocation—farewell, my dear! and off he goes to look for something better. But the peasant wants to improve himself just where he is without moving off the spot. There's your mother!" And Rybin went out into the kitchen.
Yefim approached Pavel, and with embarrassment asked:
"Perhaps you will give me a book?"
"Certainly."