"Very badly, Yegor Danilych," said Gerasim. "I've been without a job
for weeks."
"Didn't you ask your old employer to take you back?"
"I did."
"He wouldn't take you again?"
"The position was filled already."
"That's it. That's the way you young fellows are. You serve your
employers so-so, and when you leave your jobs, you usually have
muddied up the way back to them. You ought to serve your masters so
that they will think a lot of you, and when you come again, they will
not refuse you, but rather dismiss the man who has taken your place."
"How can a man do that? In these days there aren't any employers like
that, and we aren't exactly angels, either."
"What's the use of wasting words? I just want to tell you about
myself. If for some reason or other I should ever have to leave this
place and go home, not only would Mr. Sharov, if I came back, take me
on again without a word, but he would be glad to, too."
Gerasim sat there downcast. He saw his friend was boasting, and it
occurred to him to gratify him.
"I know it," he said. "But it's hard to find men like you, Yegor
Danilych. If you were a poor worker, your master would not have kept
you twelve years.
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