SOMEONE came from the Grigoryevs' to fetch a book, but I said you were not at home. The postman brought the newspaper and two letters. By the way, Yevgeny Petrovitch, I would like to ask you to speak to Seryozha. Today, and the day before yesterday, I have noticed that he is smoking. When I began to admonish him, he put his fingers in his ears as usual, and sang loudly to drown out my voice."
Yevgeny Petrovitch Bykovsky, the prosecutor of the circuit court, who had just come back from a session and was taking off his gloves in his study, looked at Natalya Semyonovna, his son’s governess, as she made her report. Then he laughed.
"Seryozha smoking . . ." he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I can picture the little cherub with a cigarette in his mouth! Why, how old is he?"
"Seven. You think it is not important, but at his age smoking is a bad and pernicious habit, and bad habits ought to be nipped in the bud."
"Perfectly true. And where does he get the tobacco?"
"He takes it from the drawer in your table."