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Updated: June 12, 2025
"What is it, Elena Andreïevna?" he asked. "Nothing very serious, I hope?" "Not very, Uncle Volodia. It's only that I want to learn something I want to feel I can do something when our money has gone, for I know it won't last very long." "Why trouble your head about business, Elena Andreïevna?
Volodia had undertaken, in the intervals of shop-keeping, to teach little Daria how to count; with the elaborate arrangement of small coloured balls, on a wire frame like a gridiron, with which he added up his own sums instead of pencil and paper. They sat down side by side with the utmost gravity.
"But how can we all live with you, when we have no money?" said Elena. "Good, kind Volodia! It would not be fair for us to be a burden to you!" "How can you talk of burdens, Elena Andreïevna! It's quite wrong of you, and really almost makes me angry! Your grandfather gave me all the money with which I started in life, and it's no more than paying back a little of it. Besides, think of the honour!
Think what a proud thing it will be for us. All the village will be envious!" Elena smiled sadly. "I suppose we shall have a little money left, shan't we, Volodia?" "Of course, Matoushka. Plenty for everything you'll want."
Old Volodia with the frame in one hand, Daria on a low stool, her curly golden head bent forward over the balls, as she moved them up and down, with a pucker on her forehead. "Two and one's five, and three's seven, and four's twelve, and six's " "Oh, Daria Andreïevna! You're not thinking about what you're doing!"
The door burst open, and Volodia, his grey hair flying, the tears rolling down his cheeks, dragged in the white-haired gentleman by the hand. "Oh, children! children! this is a happy day. The Barin's come home. This is your father!" The next morning Elena and Boris awoke with a delightful feeling of expectation.
Those who could not get into Volodia's little sitting-room remained standing outside, and looked in respectfully through the window; while the spokesman read a long speech he had prepared for the occasion. Mr. Olsheffsky made an appropriate reply, and then, turning to Volodia and the old servants, he thanked them in a few simple words for their goodness to the children.
Especially as Volodia was always ready at a moment's notice to tell them a story, carve them a peasant or a dog from a chip of pine-wood, dance a jig, or entertain them in a hundred other ways dear to the heart of Russian children.
"Oh, really I am, Uncle Volodia; but those tiresome little yellow balls keep getting in the way." And then the lesson began all over again, until Daria sprang up with a laugh, and shaking out her black frock, declared she had a pain in her neck, and must run about a little! "What a child it is!" cried Volodia admiringly. "If she lives to be a hundred, she'll never learn the multiplication table!"
She spread a large clean handkerchief out over her knees, to catch any crumbs that might be wandering, and fixed her eyes on the children with respectful solemnity. Volodia, on the contrary, always came in smiling genially, in his old homespun blouse and high boots; and was ready for a game with Daria, or a romp with Boris, the moment the tea things had been carried away by his wife.
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