not like that. Now, your Grace, I wanted to ask you," he continued, pointing to thin hives that stood near the fence, "in regard to Ósip, the nurse's husband. Could you not tell him to stop it? It is mean to act thus to a neighbour of your own village."
"What is mean?—But they do sting me!" answered the master, taking hold of the latch of the gate.
"Every year he lets out his bees against my young ones. They ought to have a chance to improve, but somebody else's bees steal their wax, and do other damage," said the old man, without noticing the master's grimaces.
"All right, later, directly," said Nekhlyúdov, and, unable to stand the pain any longer, he rushed out of the gate, defending himself with both hands.
"Rub it in with dirt; it will pass," said the old man, following the master into the yard. The master rubbed with dirt the place where he had been stung, blushingly looked at Karp and Ignát, who did not see him, and frowned angrily.
