The old woman was silent.

And Avdyeeich told the old woman about the parable of the master who forgave his servant a very great debt, and how that servant immediately went out and caught his fellow-servant by the throat because he was his debtor.  The old woman listened to the end, and the lad listened too.

“God bade us forgive,” said Avdyeeich, “otherwise He will not forgive us.  We must forgive every one, especially the thoughtless.”

The old woman shook her head and sighed.

“That’s all very well,” she said, “but they are spoiled enough already.”

“Then it is for us old people to teach them better,” said Avdyeeich.

“So say I,” replied the old woman.  “I had seven of them at one time, and now I have but a single daughter left.”  And the old woman began telling him where and how she lived with her daughter, and how many grandchildren she had.  “I’m not what I was,” she said, “but I work all I can.  I am sorry for my grandchildren, and good children they are, too.  No one is so glad to see me as they are.  Little Aksyutka will go to none but me.  ‘Grandma dear! darling grandma!’” and the old woman was melted to tears.  “As for him,” she added, pointing to the lad, “boys will be boys, I suppose.  Well, God be with him!”

Now just as the old woman was about to hoist the sack on to her shoulder, the lad rushed forward and said: 

“Give it here, and I’ll carry it for thee, granny!  It is all in my way.”

The old woman shook her head, but she did put the sack on the lad’s shoulder.

And so they trudged down the street together side by side.  And the old woman forgot to ask Avdyeeich for the money for the apple.  Avdyeeich kept standing and looking after them, and heard how they talked to each other, as they went, about all sorts of things.  Avdyeeich followed them with his eyes till they were out of sight, then he turned homewards and found his glasses on the steps (they were not broken), picked up his awl, and sat down to work again.  He worked away for a little while, but soon he was scarcely able to distinguish the stitches, and he saw the lamplighter going round to light the lamps.  “I see it is time to light up,” thought he, so he trimmed his little lamp, lighted it, and again sat down to work.  He finished one boot completely, turned it round and inspected it.  “Good!” he cried.  He put away his tools, swept up the cuttings, removed the brushes and tips, put away the awl, took down the lamp, placed it on the table, and took down the Gospels from the shelf.  He wanted to find the passage where he had last evening placed a strip of morocco leather by way of a marker, but he lit upon another place.  And just as Avdyeeich opened the Gospel, he recollected his dream of yesterday evening.  And no sooner did he call it to mind than it seemed to him as if some persons were moving about and shuffling with their feet behind him.  Avdyeeich glanced round and saw that somebody was indeed standing in the dark corner—­yes, some one was really there, but who, he could not exactly make out.  Then a voice whispered in his ear: