actually is burying himself."--"Mikhaíl Andréitch,"--he began afresh,
"listen; I really am guilty toward you; people did not represent you
properly to me."

Mísha went on digging.

"But why this recklessness?"

Mísha went on digging--and flung the dirt on the speculator, as much as
to say: "Take that, earth-devourer!"

"Really, you have no cause for this. Will not you come to my house to
eat and rest?"

Mísha raised his head a little. "Now you're talking! And will there be
anything to drink?"

The speculator was delighted.--"Good gracious!... I should think so!"

"And dost thou invite Timoféi also?"

"But why ... well, I invite him also."

Mísha reflected.--"Only look out ... for thou didst turn me out of
doors.... Don't think thou art going to get off with one bottle!"

"Do not worry ... there will be as much as you wish of everything."

Mísha flung aside his spade.... "Well, Timósha," he said, addressing his
old man-nurse, "let us honour the host.... Come along!"