"Valentin Katayev. The Cottage in the Steppe (англ.)" - читать интересную книгу автора

"Yes, you are. You can't even make ends meet."
"What do you mean?"
"Come off it, Petya. You can't fool me. I know your old man was booted
out of his job and you haven't a kopek."
That was the first time Petya heard the truth about the family's
finances put so simply and crudely.
"How do you know?" he asked weakly.
"Who doesn't? It's the talk of the town. But don't worry, Petya, they
won't put him in the jug for it."
"Who ... won't be put in the jug?"
"Why, your old man."
"What are you talking about? What do you mean by the jug?"
Gavrik knew that Petya was naive but this was too much for him and he
burst out laughing.
"What a fellow! He doesn't even know what the 'jug' means! It means
being locked up in jail." "Where?"
"In jail!" Gavrik bellowed. "Do you know how people are jailed?"
Petya looked into Gavrik's serious eyes and for the first time he felt
really frightened.
"Take it easy, they won't put your dad in jail," Gavrik said hurriedly.
"They hardly ever jail people for Lev Tolstoi now. Take it from me." He bent
close to Petya and added in a whisper, "They're picking up people right and
left now for illegal books. For the Workers' Paper and The Social-Democrat
too. But Lev Tolstoi doesn't interest them any more."
Petya looked at Gavrik with uncomprehending eyes. "Oh, what's the use
of talking to you," Gavrik said disgustedly.
He had been ready to tell his friend the latest news: for instance,
that his brother Terenty had just returned from exile after all those years
and was now working in the railway-yard, that some of the committee members
had returned with him, that it was "business as usual" again as far as their
activities were concerned, and that it had not been his own idea to get a
job in the print-shop-he had been "spoken for" by these same committee
members for a very definite purpose. Gavrik was about to explain just
exactly what the purpose was, but he saw from Petya's expression that his
friend had not the slightest idea of what he was talking about, land so he
decided to keep mum for the time being.
"How's the dinners-at-home business going?" he asked, changing the
subject. "Are there any cranks who want them?"
Petya shook his head sadly.
"I see," Gavrik said.
"Then it's a flop?"
"Yes."
"What are you going to do?"
"Somebody might rent the rooms."
"You mean you're letting rooms too? Things must be bad!" Gavrik
whistled sympathetically.
"Don't worry, we'll manage. I can give lessons," Petya said stoically.
He had long since made up his mind to become a tutor and coach backward
pupils, but did not quite know how to go about it. As a rule only university
students or senior form boys gave lessons, but there was always room for the