The woman sat down by the table. The two little girls pressed close to her knees, afraid of the people in the hut.
'I want leather shoes made for these two little girls, for spring.'
'We can do that. We never have made such small shoes, but we can make them; either welted or turnover shoes, linen lined. My man, Michael, is a master at the work.'
Simon glanced at Michael and saw that he had left his work and was sitting with his eyes fixed on the little girls. Simon was surprised. It was true the girls were pretty, with black eyes, plump, and rosy-cheeked, and they wore nice kerchiefs and fur coats, but still Simon could not understand why Michael should look at them like that—just as if he had known them before. He was puzzled, but went on talking with the woman, and arranging the price. Having fixed it, he prepared the measure. The woman lifted the lame girl on to her lap and said: 'Take two measures from this little girl. Make one shoe for the lame foot and three for the sound one. They both have the same sized feet. They are twins.'
Simon took the measure and, speaking of the lame girl, said: 'How did it happen to her? She is such a pretty girl. Was she born so?'
'No, her mother crushed her leg.'
Then Matryóna joined in. She wondered who this woman was, and whose the children were, so she said: 'Are not you their mother then?'
'No, my good woman; I am neither their mother nor any relation to them. They were quite strangers to me, but I adopted them.'
'They are not your children and yet you are so fond of them?'
'How can I help being fond of them? I fed them both at my own breasts. I had a child of my own, but God took him. I was not so fond of him as I now am of them.'
'Then whose children are they?'
