“But supposing I order it only three days before the ball?”

Abramka started.

“Only three days before the ball?  A ball dress?  Am I a god, Mrs. Zarubkin?  I am nothing but the ladies’ tailor, Abramka Stiftik.”

“Well, then you are a nice tailor!” said Tatyana Grigoryevna, scornfully.  “In Moscow they made a ball dress for me in two days.”

Abramka jumped up as if at a shot, and beat his breast.

“Is that so?  Then I say, Mrs. Zarubkin,” he cried pathetically, “if they made a ball gown for you in Moscow in two days, very well, then I will make a ball gown for you, if I must, in one day.  I will neither eat nor sleep, and I won’t let my help off either for one minute.  How does that suit you?”

“Sit down, Abramka, thank you very much.  I hope I shall not have to put such a strain on you.  It really does not depend upon me, otherwise I should have ordered the dress from you long ago.”

“It doesn’t depend upon you?  Then upon whom does it depend?”

“Ahem, it depends upon—­but now, Abramka, remember this is just between you and me—­it depends upon Mrs. Shaldin.”

“Upon Mrs. Shaldin, the doctor’s wife?  Why she isn’t even here.”

“That’s just it.  That is why I have to wait.  How is it that a clever man like you, Abramka, doesn’t grasp the situation?”

“Hm, hm!  Let me see.”  Abramka racked his brains for a solution of the riddle.  How could it be that Mrs. Shaldin, who was away, should have anything to do with Mrs. Zarubkin’s order for a gown?  No, that passed his comprehension.

“She certainly will get back in time for the ball,” said Mrs. Zarubkin, to give him a cue.

“Well, yes.”

“And certainly will bring a dress back with her.”

“Certainly!”

“A dress from abroad, something we have never seen here—­something highly original.”

“Mrs. Zarubkin!” Abramka cried, as if a truth of tremendous import had been revealed to him.  “Mrs. Zarubkin, I understand.  Why certainly!  Yes, but that will be pretty hard.”

“That’s just it.”

Abramka reflected a moment, then said: 

“I assure you, Mrs. Zarubkin, you need not be a bit uneasy.  I will make a dress for you that will be just as grand as the one from abroad.  I assure you, your dress will be the most elegant one at the ball, just as it always has been.  I tell you, my name won’t be Abramka Stiftik if—­”

His eager asseverations seemed not quite to satisfy the captain’s wife.  Her mind was not quite set at ease.  She interrupted him.

“But the style, Abramka, the style!  You can’t possibly guess what the latest fashion is abroad.”

“Why shouldn’t I know what the latest fashion is, Mrs. Zarubkin?  In Kiev I have a friend who publishes fashion-plates.  I will telegraph to him, and he will immediately send me pictures of the latest French models.  The telegram will cost only eighty cents, Mrs. Zarubkin, and I swear to you I will copy any dress he sends.  Mrs. Shaldin can’t possibly have a dress like that.”