The mother got the dishes ready for the tea, shaking her head over the thought of how strange it was for both of them to be joking and smiling all the time on this morning, when who knew what would befall them in the afternoon.

Yet, curiously enough, she felt herself calm, almost happy.
They sat a long time over the tea to while away the hours of expectation.

Pavel, as was his wont, slowly and scrupulously mixed the sugar in the glass with his spoon, and accurately salted his favorite crust from the end of the loaf.

The Little Russian moved his feet under the table--he never could at once settle his feet comfortably--and looked at the rays of sunlight playing on the wall and ceiling.
"When I was a youngster of ten years," he recounted, "I wanted to catch the sun in a glass.

So I took the glass, stole to the wall, and bang! I cut my hand and got a licking to boot.