Nurse Fedosya, sitting in the kitchen that evening, was telling the
silent housemaid Darya and the talkative old cook Agathya about the
young lady of the house, and how the child loved to play _priatki_
with her mother--"She hides her little face, and cries '_tiutiu_'!"
"And the mistress herself is like a little one," added Fedosya,
smiling.
Agathya listened and shook her head ominously; while her face became
grave and reproachful.
"That the mistress does it, well, that's one thing; but that the young
lady does it, that's bad."
"Why?" asked Fedosya with curiosity.
This expression of curiosity gave her face the look of a wooden,
roughly-painted doll.
"Yes, that's bad," repeated Agathya with conviction. "Terribly bad!"
"Well?" said Fedosya, the ludicrous expression of curiosity on her
face becoming more emphatic.
"She'll hide, and hide, and hide away," said Agathya, in a mysterious
whisper, as she looked cautiously toward the door.
"What are you saying?" exclaimed Fedosya, frightened.
"It's the truth I'm saying, remember my words," Agathya went on with
the same assurance and secrecy. "It's the surest sign."
The old woman had invented this sign, quite suddenly, herself; and she
was evidently very proud of it.