The general stir and
animation in the factory also pleased her, and she thought to
herself: "What would they do without me?"
Three common laborers stopped at a short distance from her, and
one of them said with disappointment in his voice: "I couldn't
find any anywhere!"
Another remarked: "I'd like to hear it, though. I can't read
myself, but I understand it hits them just in the right place."
The third man looked around him, and said: "Let's go into the
boiler room. I'll read it for you there!"
"It works!" Gusev whispered, a wink lurking in his eye.
Nilovna came home in gay spirits. She had now seen for herself how
people are moved by books.
"The people down there are sorry they can't read," she said to Andrey,
"and here am I who could when I was young, but have forgotten."
"Learn over again, then," suggested the Little Russian.
"At my age? What do you want to make fun of me for?"
Andrey, however, took a book from the shelf and pointing with the
tip of a knife at a letter on the cover, asked: "What's this?"
"R," she answered, laughing.
"And this?"
"A."
She felt awkward, hurt, and offended. It seemed to her that Andrey's
eyes were laughing at her, and she avoided their look.
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