Gavrila scratched his ear.
"No, mate," he responded at last, "you can poke the coat in yourself, if
you like."
"All right, let me."
And Stepan scrambled up, took the stick, pushed in the coat, and began
waving the stick about in the opening, saying, "Come out, come out!" as
he did so. He was still waving the stick, when suddenly the door of the
garret was flung open; all the crowd flew pell-mell down the stairs
instantly, Gavrila first of all. Uncle Tail locked the window.
"Come, come, come," shouted Gavrila from the yard, "mind what you're
about."
Gerasim stood without stirring in his doorway. The crowd gathered at the
foot of the stairs. Gerasim, with his arms akimbo, looked down at all
these poor creatures in German coats; in his red peasant's shirt he
looked like a giant before them. Gavrila took a step forward.
"Mind, mate," said he, "don't be insolent."
And he began to explain to him by signs that the mistress insists on
having his dog; that he must hand it over at once, or it would be the
worse for him.
Gerasim looked at him, pointed to the dog, made a motion with his hand
round his neck, as though he were pulling a noose tight, and glanced
with a face of inquiry at the steward.
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