"Well, you needn't expect anything else. I haven't brought you any ginger-bread." "Ginger-bread!" repeated Sasha in amusement. He looked on with curiosity as Liudmilla uncorked the scent-bottle. He asked: "And how will you pour it out from that without a funnel?" "I expect you to get me a funnel," said Liudmilla. "But I haven't one," said Sasha. "Do as you like, but you must get me a funnel," persisted Liudmilla, laughing. "I would get one from Milanya, only it's used for paraffin," said Sasha. Liudmilla again burst into gay laughter. "Oh, you dull young man, get me a piece of paper, if you can spare it--and there's your funnel." "That's true," exclaimed Sasha joyously, "it's easy to make one from paper. I'll get it at once." Sasha ran into his room. "Shall I take it from an exercise-book?" he shouted from his room. Liudmilla replied: "You can tear it out from a book--a Latin grammar if you like. I don't mind." "No, I'd better take it from the exercise-book," said Sasha laughingly. He found a clean exercise-book, tore out the middle page and was about to run back to the drawing-room when he saw Liudmilla at the door. "May I come in, master of the house?" she asked playfully. "Please, I shall be very glad!" exclaimed Sasha. Liudmilla seated herself at his table and twisted a funnel from a piece of paper. With a preoccupied expression, she began to pour the scent from the bottle into the sprinkler. The paper funnel, at the bottom and the side, where the trickle of scent ran, became wet and dark. The aromatic liquid accumulated in the funnel and dripped into the sprinkler below. There was a warm, sweet aroma of rose mixed with a poignant odour of spirit. Liudmilla poured half of the scent from the bottle into the sprinkler and said: "That'll be enough." And she began to screw the top on the scent-sprinkler. Then she rolled up the piece of wet paper and rubbed it between the palms of her hands. "Smell!" she said to Sasha and put her palm to his face. Sasha bent over, closed his eyes, and inhaled. Liudmilla laughed, lightly touched his lips with her palm and held her hand to his mouth. Sasha blushed and kissed her warm, scented hand with a gentle contact of his trembling lips. Liudmilla sighed; a tender expression crossed her attractive face, and then changed to her habitual expression of careless gaiety. She said: "Now, just keep still while I sprinkle you." And she pressed the rubber bulb. The aromatic spray-dust spurted out, spreading into minute drops upon Sasha's blouse. Sasha laughed as he turned obediently when Liudmilla pushed him. "It smells nice, eh?" she asked. "Very nice," replied Sasha. "What sort of scent is it?" "What a baby you are!" said Liudmilla in a teasing voice. "Look on the bottle and you'll see." Sasha looked at the label and said: "It smells of oil of roses." "Oil!" she said reproachfully, and struck Sasha lightly on the shoulder.