"Korney took it to your papa. A fine plaything it must be too!"
"How big? Like this?"
"Rather small, but a fine thing."
"No, a thing. Run along, run along, Vassily Lukitch is calling
you," said the porter, hearing the tutor's steps approaching, and
carefully taking away from his belt the little hand in the glove
half pulled off, he signed with his head towards the tutor.
"Vassily Lukitch, in a tiny minute!" answered Seryozha with that
gay and loving smile which always won over the conscientious
Seryozha was too happy, everything was too delightful for him to
be able to help sharing with his friend the porter the family
good fortune of which he had heard during his walk in the public
gardens from Lidia Ivanovna's niece. This piece of good news
seemed to him particularly important from its coming at the same
time with the gladness of the bandaged clerk and his own gladness
at toys having come for him. It seemed to Seryozha that this was
a day on which everyone ought to be glad and happy.
"You know papa's received the Alexander Nevsky today?"
"To be sure I do! People have been already to congratulate him."
"And is he glad?"
"Glad at the Tsar's gracious favor! I should think so! It's a
proof he's deserved it," said the porter severely and seriously.
Seryozha fell to dreaming, gazing up at the face of the porter,
which he had thoroughly studied in every detail, especially the
chin that hung down between the gray whiskers, never seen by
anyone but Seryozha, who saw him only from below.
"Well, and has your daughter been to see you lately?"