"Men, well fed and richly dressed Pass through the streets all day, But if I beg a bit of bread They answer--go away!" He stopped, looked at the other two, and hung his head down. For a minute they all stared in an embarrassed silence, then Ilya asked, hesitatingly:---- "Is that poetry?" "Can't you hear?" replied Pashka, crossly. "It rhymes--day, away--so of course it's poetry." "Of course," chimed in Jakov, quickly. "You're always finding fault, Ilya." "I've made more poetry than that!" Pashka turned to Jakov and went on again:---- "The earth is wet and the clouds are grey, The autumn draws nearer, day by day, And I--have no house for the winter's cold And my clothes are tattered and worn and old." "Ah!" said Jakov, and looked at Pashka with round eyes. "That was regular poetry," admitted Ilya. A fleeting blush passed over Pashka's face and he screwed up his eyes as if the smoke had got into the room. "I shall make a long poem," he boasted. "It's not so very difficult. You go out and look about you--stream, dream, tree, free--the rhymes come up by themselves." "And what will you do now?" asked Ilya. Pashka let his glance wander round; there was a pause, then he said, slowly and vaguely, "oh, something or other," then added decidedly, "If I don't like it, I'll run away again." For the time being, however, he lived with the cobbler, and every evening the children gathered there. It was quieter and more cosy in the cellar than in Terenti's room. Perfishka was seldom at home. He had sold for drink all that could be sold, and now worked by the day in various workshops, and if there was no work to be got, he sat in the bar-room. He went about half-clothed and barefoot, and his beloved old harmonica was always under his arm. It had come to be almost a part of his body, it had absorbed a portion of his cheerful disposition. The two were very much alike, out at elbows and worn, but full of jolly songs and tunes. In all the workshops of the town, Perfishka was known as a tireless singer of gay rollicking rhymes and dance tunes. Wherever he appeared he was a welcome guest, and all liked him because he could lighten the heavy weary load of existence, with his drolleries tales and anecdotes.