boughs, and trying to count the birds which come and go over my head!"
But what about the plans for improving the estate? And what about the starosta and the flat? Once again these things knocked at his memory.
Yes, yes/' he answered them. "Seichass—presently."
With that he rose to a sitting posture on the sofa, lowered his legs to the level of his slippers, and slipped the latter on to his feet; after which he sat still for a little while. At length he attained a wholly erect posture, and remained meditating for a couple of minutes.
"Zakhar! Zakhar!" he shouted as he eyed the table and the inkstand. "I want you to, to——" Further he failed to get, but mutely pointed to the inkstand, and then relapsed into thought.
The doorbell rang, and a little man with a bald head entered.
"Hullo, doctor!" Oblomov exclaimed as he extended one hand towards his guest, and with the other one drew forward a chair.
"What chance brings you here?"
"The chance that, since all of you decline to be ill, and never send for me, I am forced to come of myself," replied the doctor jest-
