_Fèkla._ Well. So this is the gentleman that knows how to manage things! This is the way you get on without a matchmaker! It’s all very well to laugh at my suitors. They may be draggletailed, and anything else you like, but, whatever they are, they don’t jump out of the window. I don’t have that sort, anyhow! _Koch._ That’s all nonsense; it can’t be! I’ll run after him and bring him back. (_Exit._) _Fèkla._ Yes, bring him back, I daresay. Much _you_ know about marriages! If he’d run out by the door it would have been another thing, but when the bridegroom pops out of window all I can say is—I wish you joy! CURTAIN. _AT THE POLICE INSPECTOR’S._ [Illustration] BY GORBOUNÒV. PERSONS. THE POLICE INSPECTOR. GRIGÒRIEV, _his servant_. A SHOPKEEPER. IVÀN ANÀNIEV, _a factory hand_. TIME: _morning. The Inspector sits in his office reading documents._ _Inspector_ (_reads_). “Therefore, the Moscow Administration of Public Order——” Grigòriev! _Grigòriev._ What is it, yer honour? _Inspector._ Tell the cook to do me a herring with apple sauce. _Grigòriev._ Yes, yer honour. _Inspector_ (_reads_). “To make all proper investigations——” (_Enter the_ SHOPKEEPER.) Who’s that? _Shopkeeper._ It’s only me, little father. _Inspector._ And who are you? _Shopkeeper._ An inhabitant of the town. _Inspector._ What do you want? _Shopkeeper._ I came, little father, to humbly beg a favour of you. _Inspector._ Well, what now? _Shopkeeper._ It’s an odd business, little father. _Inspector._ Odd? What sort of business? _Shopkeeper._ Well, you see, it’s this way—don’t be angry, your honour, just take three silver roubles for your household expenses. _Inspector._ Sit down, please. _Shopkeeper._ Oh, I can stand, your honour; ... I don’t mind standing. _Inspector._ What’s your business? _Shopkeeper._ Your honour is aware that I have a ’ouse in your district, with a wooden fence.... _Inspector._ Yes. _Shopkeeper._ Well, in that ’ouse I’ve got a factory—a weaving factory. _Inspector._ Well? _Shopkeeper._ Well, you see, sir—— _Inspector._ Sit down, sit down.... _Shopkeeper._ Don’t trouble.... Well, on Saturday I was in the town, and I was kept a bit late. Well, I tore off home as hard as my legs would carry me—There! I thought, my wife’ll be waiting—family matters, you know—and the tea’ll all be kept about—— _Inspector._ Yes, yes, family matters.... _Shopkeeper._ Well, there’s a hand in my factory—Ivàn Anàniev—— _Inspector._ Well? I suppose he got drunk, or made a row, or something? _Shopkeeper._ It’s worse than that, sir—I’d ’ave put up with that—he’s stolen my cutter. _Inspector._ What’s a cutter? _Shopkeeper._ Why, you see, sir, it’s a sort of thing, ... for the stuff like that we weave, you know, in our line of business....