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

writing-desk and resumed the lesson.
"Where were we?" Petya said weakly, for he could hardly keep from
vomiting. "We have twenty of the twenty-three letters. Later on,
historically, two more letters were added."
"Which makes twenty-five," Gavrik said, choking down his sugary saliva.
"Quite right. Copy them out."
Just then Vasily Petrovich came in. He was in that sad but peaceful
mood that always came over him after a visit to the cemetery. He glanced at
the studious boys, and noticing the strange expression of ill-concealed
disgust on their faces, he said:
"I see you are working on the Sabbath, my dear sirs. Having a hard
time? Never mind! The root of learning may be bitter, but its fruits are
sweet."
With these words he tiptoed over to the icons, took from his pocket the
small bottle of wood-oil he had bought in the church shop and carefully
filled the icon-lamp, a task he performed every Sunday.
Soon Auntie returned and was followed by Dunyasha. Pavlik was still
downstairs. They heard the samovar singing in the kitchen. The delicate
tinkle of the china tea-set drifted in from the dining-room.
"I'd better be going," Gavrik said, putting his things together
quickly. "I'll finish the other letters at home. So long. See you next
Sunday!" With a solemn look on his face he ambled through the dining-room,
past the sideboard and into the hall.
"Where are you going?" Auntie asked. "Won't you stay to tea?"
"Thanks, Tatyana Ivanovna, they're waiting for me at home. I've a
couple of chores to do yet."
"You're sure you won't stay? We've got nice strawberry jam. H'm?"
"Oh no, no!" Gavrik exclaimed in alarm. In the hall he whispered to
Petya, "I owe you 50 kopeks," and dashed down the stairs to escape from the
scene of the crime.
"You're not looking well," Auntie said as she turned to Petya. "You
look as if you had tainted sausage. Maybe you're going to be ill. Let's see
your tongue."
Petya hung his head dejectedly and stuck out a marvellously pink
tongue.
"Aha! I know what it is!" Auntie cried. "It's all because of that
Latin. You see, my dear, how difficult it is to be a tutor! Never mind,
we'll open Grandma's jam in honour of your first lesson and you'll be your
old self again in no time."
With these words Auntie walked over to the sideboard, while Petya lay
down on his bed with a groan and stuck his head under the pillow so as not
to hear or see anything.
However, at the very moment that Auntie was gazing in astonishment at
the clean empty jar and trying to puzzle out why it was there and how it had
got into the sideboard, Pavlik rushed into the hall, yelling at the top of
his lungs:
"Faig, Faig! Listen! Faig has driven up to our house in his carriage!"