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16
SÖNYA KOVALÉVSKY
out fail. Then every one understood that it was no
jesting matter.
Nurse was in despair, but one night she awoke and
heard a queer munching proceeding from the corner
where Feklusha slept. Already inclined to suspicion,
nurse cautiously, noiselessly put out her hand for the
matches and suddenly struck a light. What did she
see?
Feklusha was squatting on her heels, holding a
huge pot of sweetmeats between her knees, and was
devouring it like a plowman, and licking out the
pot with a crust of bread.
I must state that a few days previously the
housekeeper had complained that preserves had begun to
disappear from her storeroom.
Of course it was only the work of a second for
nurse to spring out of bed and seize the culprit by
her braid of hair.
"Ah! I ’ve caught you, you good-for-nothing!
Tell me, where did you get those preserves?" she
shouted in a thundering voice, shaking the girl
unmercifully by the hair.
" Nurse, darling; I’m not guilty, truly I am not!"
Feklusha began to entreat. " The seamstress, Marya
Yasilievna, gave me this pot of preserves yesterday
evening. She only enjoined upon me not to show it
to you."
This justification appeared thoroughly improbable
to nurse.
"Come, woman; ’t is plain that you are not an
adept at lying," she said scornfully. " It is a likely
thing that it should enter into Marya Yasilievna’s
head to treat you to sweetmeats."
"Nurse, darling; I’m not lying — ai, ai! it is the
truth. Only ask her yourself. I heated her irons for
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