AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  Yes, much you will, unless you get down off the stove and hustle.  You’ve actually forgotten, I think, that you have a daughter.

BOLSHOV.  We’ll see!

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  We’ll see what?  We’ll see nothing!  Bah—­don’t talk to me, please; don’t aggravate me. [She sits down.

BOLSHOV bursts out laughing; USTINYA NAUMOVNA walks off with LIPOCHKA to the other side of the stage.  USTINYA NAUMOVNA inspects the girl’s dress.

USTINYA NAUMOVNA.  My! how you’re dolled up—­that dress certainly makes you look better.  You didn’t make it yourself, did you?

LIPOCHKA.  Horrible need I had of making it!  Why, do you think we’re beggars?  What are dressmakers for?

USTINYA NAUMOVNA.  Beggars, the idea!  Who’s saying anything so foolish to you?  They can tell from your house-keeping that you didn’t make it yourself.  However, your dress is a fright.

LIPOCHKA.  What’s the matter with you?  Have you lost your wits?  Where are your eyes?  What gave you that wild notion?

USTINYA NAUMOVNA.  What are you getting on your high horse for?

LIPOCHKA.  Nonsense!  Think I’ll stand such rubbish?  What, am I an uncultivated hussy!

USTINYA NAUMOVNA.  What are you taking on so for?  Where did such a caprice come from?  Am I finding fault with your dress?  Why, isn’t it a dress?—­and anybody will say it’s a dress.  But it isn’t becoming to you; it’s absolutely not the right thing for your style of beauty—­blot out my soul if I lie.  For you a gold one would be little enough; let’s have one embroidered with seed-pearls.  Ah! there you smile, my jewel!  You see, I know what I’m talking about!

TISHKA. [Entering] Sysoy Psoich wants me to ask whether he, says he, can come in.  He’s out there with Lazar Elizarych.

BOLSHOV.  March!  Call him in here with Lazar.

TISHKA goes out.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  Well, now, the relish isn’t ready for nothing:  we’ll take a snack.  Now, Ustinya Naumovna, I suppose you’ve been wanting a drop of vodka for a long time?

USTINYA NAUMOVNA.  Just the thing—­it’s one o’clock, the admiral’s lunch-time.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  Now, Samson Silych, move out of that place; what are you sitting there like that for?

BOLSHOV.  Wait a minute; they’re coming up.  There’s time enough.

LIPOCHKA.  Mamma, I’ll go change my dress.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  Run along, my dear, run along.

BOLSHOV.  Wait a minute before changing—­there’s a suitor coming.

AGRAFENA KONDRATYEVNA.  What sort of a suitor can that be?  Quit your fooling.

BOLSHOV.  Wait a bit, Lipa, there’s a suitor coming.

LIPOCHKA.  Who is it, daddy?  Do I know him or not?

BOLSHOV.  You’ll see him in a minute; and then, perhaps, you’ll recognize him.