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"I told you not to sit passengers on the roof," said the little

girl in English; "there, pick them up!"

"Everything's in confusion," thought Stepan Arkadyevitch; "there

are the children running about by themselves." And going to the

door, he called them. They threw down the box, that represented a

train, and came in to their father.

The little girl, her father's favorite, ran up boldly, embraced

him, and hung laughingly on his neck, enjoying as she always did

the smell of scent that came from his whiskers. At last the

little girl kissed his face, which was flushed from his stooping

posture and beaming with tenderness, loosed her hands, and was

about to run away again; but her father held her back.