y a passage, to a doctor's wife with her two small
children. This lady was the same age as Anna Fyodorovna, and a great
friend of hers. Her husband, the doctor, had taken his departure twelve
months before, going first to Orenburg and then to Tashkend, and for the
last six months she had not heard a word from him. Had it not been for her
friendship with Madame Krassotkin, which was some consolation to the
forsaken lady, she would certainly have completely dissolved away in
tears. And now, to add to her misfortunes, Katerina, her only servant, was
suddenly moved the evening before to announce, to her mistress's
amazement, that she proposed to bring a child into the world before
morning. It seemed almost miraculous to every one that no one had noticed
the probability of it before. The astounded doctor's wife decided to move
Katerina while there was still time to an establishment in the town kept
by a midwife for such emergencies. As she set great store by her servant,
she promptly carried out this plan and remained there looking after her.
By the morning all Madame Krassotkin's friendly sympathy and energy were
called upon to render assistance and appeal to some one for help in the
case.

So both the ladies were absent from home, the Krassotkins' servant,
Agafya, had gone out to the market, and Kolya was thus left for a time to
protect and look after "the kids," that is, the son and daughter of the
doctor's wife, who were left alone. Kolya was not afraid of taking care of
the house, besides he had Perezvon, who had been told to lie flat, without
moving, under the bench in the hall. Every time Kolya, walking to and fro
through the rooms, came into the hall, the dog shook his head and gave two
loud and insinuating taps on the floor with his tail, but alas! the
whistle did not sound to release him. Kolya looked sternly at the luckless
dog, who relapsed again into obedient rigidity. The one thing that
troubled Kolya was "the kids." He looked, of course, with the utmost scorn
on Katerina's unexpected adventure, but he was very fond of the bereaved
"kiddies," and had already taken them a picture-book. Nastya, the elder, a
girl of eight, could read, and Kostya, the boy, aged seven, was very fond
of being read to by her. Krassotkin could, of course, have provided more
diverting entertainment for them. He could have made them stand side by
side and played soldiers with them, or sent them hiding all over the
house. He had done so mo