"Here he comes himself!"
"The manager?"
"Ah!"
The crowd opened to make way for a tall, spare man with a pointed beard, an elongated face and blinking eyes.
"Permit me," he said, as he pushed the people aside with a short motion of his hand, without touching them. With the experienced look of a ruler of people, he scanned the workingmen's faces with a searching gaze. They took their hats off and bowed to him. He walked past them without acknowledging their greetings. His presence silenced and confused the crowd, and evoked embarrassed smiles and low exclamations, as of repentant children who had already come to regret their prank.
Now he passed by the mother, casting a stern glance at her face, and stopped before the pile of iron. Somebody from above extended a hand to him; he did not take it, but with an easy, powerful movement of his body he clambered up and stationed himself in front of Pavel and Sizov. Looking around the silent crowd, he asked:
"What's the meaning of this crowd? Why have you dropped your work?"
For a few seconds silence reigned. Sizov waved his cap in the air, shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his head.
"I am asking you a question!" continued the manager.
Pavel moved alongside of him and said in a low voice, pointing to Sizov and Rybin: