"Hmm, another fool given a job," said the old man shrugging his shoulders. "Hey, Zarubin!" he shouted as he walked away.
A dry thin boy with a low forehead and restless eyes and black curls on a small head sat down beside Yevsey.
"What's the trouble?" he asked, nudging Yevsey's side with his elbow.
"I don't understand what to do," explained Klimkov in a frightened tone.
From somewhere within the youngster in the region of his stomach came a hollow, broken sound, "Ugh!"
"I'll teach you," he said in a low voice, as if communicating some important secret. "I'll teach you, and you'll give me half a ruble. Got half a ruble?"
"No."
"When you get your pay? All right?"
"All right."
The boy seized the paper, and in the same mysterious tone continued: