"Give me a month!"
"What a braggart you are, soldier!"
"A fortnight! I'll show you. Who's she? Little Tanya! Pooh!"
"And now be off!—you're in the way."
"A fortnight, I say—and the thing's done. Poor you, I say!"
"Be off, I say."
Our baker suddenly grew savage; and flourished his shovel. The soldier backed away from him in astonishment, and observed us in silence. "Good!" he said at last with ominous calmness—and departed.
During the dispute we all remained silent, we were too deeply interested in it to speak. But when the soldier departed, there arose from among us a loud and lively babble of voices.
Someone shrieked at the baker: "A pretty business you've set a-going, Paul!"
"Go on working, d'ye hear!" replied the master-baker fiercely.