ted:

"The manager! The manager! Let him come! Let him explain!"

"Send delegates for him! Bring him here!"

"No, don't; it's not necessary!"

The mother pushed her way to the front and looked up at her son. She
was filled with pride. Her son stood among the old, respected
workingmen; all listened to him and agreed with him! She was pleased
that he was so calm and talked so simply; not angrily, not swearing,
like the others. Broken exclamations, wrathful words and oaths
descended like hail on iron. Pavel looked down on the people from his
elevation, and with wide-open eyes seemed to be seeking something among
them.

"Delegates!"

"Let Sizov speak!"

"Vlasov!"

"Rybin! He has a terrible tongue!"

Finally Sizov, Rybin, and Pavel were chosen for the interview with the
manager. When just about to send for the manager, suddenly low
exclamations were heard in the crowd:

"Here he comes himself!"

"The manager?"

"Ah!"

The crowd opened to make way for a tall, spare man with a pointed
beard, an elongated face and blinking eyes.

"Permit me," he said, as he pushed the people aside with a short motion
of his hand, without touching them. With the experienced look of a
ruler of people, he scanned the workingmen's faces with a searching
gaze. They took their hats off and bowed to him. He walked past them
without acknowledging their greetings. His presence silenced and
confused the crowd, and evoked embarrassed smiles and low exclamations,
as of repentant children who had already come to regret their prank.

Now he passed, by the mother, casting a stern glance at her face, and
stopped before the pile of iron. Somebody from above extended a hand
to him; he did not take it, but with an easy, powerful movement of his
body he clambered up and stationed himself in front of Pavel and Sizov.
Looking around the silent crowd, he asked:

"What's the meaning of this crowd? Why have you dropped your work?"

For a few seconds silence reigned. Sizov waved his cap in the air,
shrugged his shoulders, and dropped his head.

"I am asking you a question!" continued the manager.

Pavel moved alongside of him and said in a low voice, pointing to Sizov
and Rybin:

"We three are authorized by all the comrades to ask you to revoke your
order about the kopeck discount."

"Why?" asked the manager, without looking at Pavel.

"We do not consider such a tax just!" Pavel replied loudly.

"So, in my plan to drain t