"Oh, you old she-devil!" began Semka, as soon as we were outside the gate. "Did you ever? We're not worth it! You dead toad—you! There, go and screech over your book now!"
Plunging his hand into his pocket, he pulled out two bright metal objects and showed them to us in triumph.
Mishka stopped, stretching his neck towards Semka's uplifted hand.
"You've broken the clasps off?" he asked, astonished.
"That's it, mate. Silver! Get a rouble for them at least."
"Well, I never! When did you do it? Hide them quick, out of harm's way!"
"I'll hide 'em all right."
We continued our way up the street in silence.
"That's smart," Mishka said to himself. "Went and broke it off! Ye-es. But the book is a good book. The old lady will be offended with us very likely."
"Why, no, mate, not she! She'll call us back and tip us," joked Semka.