[Old man Kravchenko gave me a pair of old woolskin gloves. What a blessing! Before that I worked with bare hands winding them with rags. Once, after getting an advance payment of 5 roubles that was supposed to be enough for a week but never was because one had pay 96 kopecks only for bread I stayed at the administrative office anteroom putting the gloves on the windowsill.
"Domnishora* Kersnovskaya" said a tiny voice behind me. "Is it probably too much for you? Pies... Isn't one probably enough for you?]
"You are my dear girl! It is not pies. It is gloves!"
"Oh!"
Tears overfilled the girl's eyes and hung on eyelashes. She hid her face with the hands and jerkily sobbed. Her whole figure represented such desperation that even if I had only one pay I would give it to her. Nothing can be more sad or unfair than a view of a hungry child. Why should they torment children in exile?
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* Domnishora - madam.