"In order to understand why people live so badly," said Natasha.
"And why they are themselves so bad," put in the Little Russian.
"It is necessary to see how they began to live----"
"See, my dears, see!" mumbled the mother, making the tea.
They all stopped talking.
"What is the matter, mother?" asked Pavel, knitting his brows.
"What?" She looked around, and seeing the eyes of all upon her
she explained with embarrassment, "I was just speaking to myself."
Natasha laughed and Pavel smiled, but the Little Russian said:
"Thank you for the tea, mother."
"Hasn't drunk it yet and thanks me already," she commented inwardly.
Looking at her son, she asked: "I am not in your way?"
"How can the hostess in her own home be in the way of her guests?"
replied Natasha, and then continuing with childish plaintiveness:
"Mother dear, give me tea quick! I am shivering with cold; my feet
are all frozen."
"In a moment, in a moment!" exclaimed the mother, hurrying.
Having drunk a cup of tea, Natasha drew a long breath, brushed
her hair back from her forehead, and began to read from a large
yellow-covered book with pictures. The mother, careful not to make
a noise with the dishes, poured tea into the glasses, and strained
her untrained mind to listen to the girl's fluent reading.
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