The Christmas Tree and the Wedding part 6

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I laughed heartily. Julian Mastakovich turned. He was utterly confused and for a moment, apparently, quite oblivious of his immense importance. At that moment our host appeared in the doorway opposite. The boy crawled out from under the table and wiped his knees and elbows. Julian Mastakovich hastened to carry his handkerchief, which he had been dangling by the comer, to his nose. Our host looked at the three of us rather suspiciously. But, like a man who knows the world lind can readily adjust himself, he seized upon the opportunity to lay hold of his very valuable guest and get what he wanted out of him.

“Here`s the boy I was talking to you about,” he said, indicating the red-haired child. “I took the liberty of presuming on your goodness In his behalf.”

Quite Master

“Oh,” replied Julian Mastakovich, still not quite master of himself.
“He`s my governess`s son,” our host continued in a beseeching tone. “She`s a poor creature, the widow of an honest official. That`s why, Hit were possible for you ”

“Impossible, impossible!” Julian Mastakovich cried hastily. “You must excuse me, Philip Alexeyevich, I really cannot. I`ve made inquiries. There are no vacancies, and there is a waiting list of ten who hive a greater right I`m sorry.”

“Too bad,” said our host. “He`s a quiet, unobtrusive child.”

, “A very naughty little rascal, I should say,” said Julian Mastakovich, wryly. “Go away, boy. Why are you here still? Be off with you to the other children.”

Unable to control himself, he gave me a sidelong glance. Nor could I control myself. I laughed straight in his face. He turned away and asked our host, in tones quite audible to me, who that odd young fellow was. They whispered to each other and left the room, disregarding me.

I shook with laughter. Then I, too, went to the drawing-room. There the great man, already surrounded by the fathers and mothers and the host and the hostess, had begun to talk eagerly with a lady to whom he had just been introduced. The lady held the “rich little girl`s hand. Julian Mastakovich went into fulsome praise of her. He waxed ecstatic over the dear child`s beauty, her talents, her grace, her excellent breeding, plainly laying himself out to flatter the mother, who listened scarcely able to restrain tears of joy, while the father showed his delight by a gratified smile.

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