‘Oh, well, I only thought it might, perhaps. My comrades might notice it; it’s a little ... But I’ll think it over. Give me my pipe.... So she,’ he went on after a short silence--Vassilissa, I mean, says then ...’ But Onisim had no desire to continue the conversation, and he assumed his habitual morose expression. IV Ivan Afanasiitch’s acquaintance with Praskovia Ivanovna began in the following manner. Five days after his conversation with Onisim, Pyetushkov set off in the evening to the baker’s shop. ‘Well,’ thought he, as he unlatched the creaking gate, ‘I don’t know how it’s to be.’ ... He mounted the steps, opened the door. A huge, crested hen rushed, with a deafening cackle, straight under his feet, and long after was still running about the yard in wild excitement. From a room close by peeped the astonished countenance of the fat woman. Ivan Afanasiitch smiled and nodded. The fat woman bowed to him. Tightly grasping his hat, Pyetushkov approached her. Praskovia Ivanovna was apparently anticipating an honoured guest; her dress was fastened up at every hook. Pyetushkov sat down on a chair; Praskovia Ivanovna seated herself opposite him. ‘I have come to you, Praskovia Ivanovna, more on account of....’ Ivan Afanasiitch began at last--and then ceased. His lips were twitching spasmodically. ‘You are kindly welcome, sir,’ responded Praskovia Ivanovna in the proper sing-song, and with a bow. ‘Always delighted to see a guest.’ Pyetushkov took courage a little. ‘I have long wished, you know, to have the pleasure of making your acquaintance, Praskovia Ivanovna.’ ‘Much obliged to you, Ivan Afanasiitch.’ Followed a silence. Praskovia Ivanovna wiped her face with a parti-coloured handkerchief; Ivan Afanasiitch continued with intense attention to gaze away to one side. Both were rather uncomfortable. But in merchant and petty shopkeeper society, where even old friends never step outside special angular forms of etiquette, a certain constraint in the behaviour of guests and host to one another not only strikes no one as strange, but, on the contrary, is regarded as perfectly correct and indispensable, particularly on a first visit. Praskovia Ivanovna was agreeably impressed by Pyetushkov. He was formal and decorous in his manners, and moreover, wasn’t he a man of some rank, too? ‘Praskovia Ivanovna, ma’am, I like your rolls very much,’ he said to her. ‘Really now, really now.’ ‘Very good they are, you know, very, indeed.’ ‘May they do you good, sir, may they do you good. Delighted, to be sure.’ ‘I’ve never eaten any like them in Moscow.’ ‘You don’t say so now, you don’t say so.’ Again a silence followed. ‘Tell me, Praskovia Ivanovna,’ began Ivan Afanasiitch; ‘that’s your niece, I fancy, isn’t it, living with you?’ ‘My own niece, sir.’ ‘How comes it ... she’s with you?’.... ‘She’s an orphan, so I keep her.’ ‘And is she a good worker?’ ‘Such a girl to work ... such a girl, sir ... ay ... ay ... to be sure she is.’