They fitted marvellously-both the brown jacket with yellow buttons (a garment made skin-tight and not “to allow room for growth,” as in the country) and the black trousers (also close-fitting so that they displayed the figure and lay smoothly over the boots).

“At last I have real trousers on!” I thought as I looked at my legs with the utmost satisfaction.  I concealed from every one the fact that the new clothes were horribly tight and uncomfortable, but, on the contrary, said that, if there were a fault, it was that they were not tight enough.  For a long while I stood before the looking-glass as I combed my elaborately pomaded head, but, try as I would, I could not reduce the topmost hairs on the crown to order.  As soon as ever I left off combing them, they sprang up again and radiated in different directions, thus giving my face a ridiculous expression.

Karl Ivanitch was dressing in another room, and I heard some one bring him his blue frockcoat and under-linen.  Then at the door leading downstairs I heard a maid-servant’s voice, and went to see what she wanted.  In her hand she held a well-starched shirt which she said she had been sitting up all night to get ready.  I took it, and asked if Grandmamma was up yet.

“Oh yes, she has had her coffee, and the priest has come.  My word, but you look a fine little fellow!” added the girl with a smile at my new clothes.

This observation made me blush, so I whirled round on one leg, snapped my fingers, and went skipping away, in the hope that by these manoeuvres I should make her sensible that even yet she had not realised quite what a fine fellow I was.

However, when I took the shirt to Karl I found that he did not need it, having taken another one.  Standing before a small looking-glass, he tied his cravat with both hands—­trying, by various motions of his head, to see whether it fitted him comfortably or not—­and then took us down to see Grandmamma.  To this day I cannot help laughing when I remember what a smell of pomade the three of us left behind us on the staircase as we descended.

Karl was carrying a box which he had made himself, Woloda, his drawing, and I my verses, while each of us also had a form of words ready with which to present his gift.  Just as Karl opened the door, the priest put on his vestment and began to say prayers.

During the ceremony Grandmamma stood leaning over the back of a chair, with her head bent down.  Near her stood Papa.  He turned and smiled at us as we hurriedly thrust our presents behind our backs and tried to remain unobserved by the door.  The whole effect of a surprise, upon which we had been counting, was entirely lost.  When at last every one had made the sign of the cross I became intolerably oppressed with a sudden, invincible, and deadly attack of shyness, so that the courage to, offer my present completely failed me.  I hid myself behind Karl Ivanitch, who solemnly congratulated Grandmamma and,