"On the table," replied Matvey, glancing with inquiring sympathy at his master; and, after a short pause, he added with a sly smile, "They've sent from the carriage-jobbers.

" Stepan Arkadyevitch made no reply, he merely glanced at Matvey in the looking-glass.

In the glance, in which their eyes met in the looking-glass, it was clear that they understood one another.

Stepan Arkadyevitch's eyes asked: "Why do you tell me that? don't you know?" Matvey put his hands in his jacket pockets, thrust out one leg, and gazed silently, good-humoredly, with a faint smile, at his master.

"I told them to come on Sunday, and till then not to trouble you or themselves for nothing," he said.