Grandmother sends the boy for strawberries. And if he tries hard and gains a lot of berries, then she will take her to the market and sell, and then she will certainly buy her grandson a carrot in the form of a horse. The boy enthusiastically remembers how great it is to have such a horse. “You can put your gingerbread under your shirt, run and hear a horse licking its hooves in a naked stomach.” Chilling with horror, he lost, “grabbing at his shirt and happily making sure – here he is, there’s a horse-fire!” And how much attention is due to this horse. It’s like a pass to all the village entertainment.
Next, the narrator mentions the family of Levonty, a neighbor. The wife of Levontia – a quick laughter, Aunt Vasenya – casually
Every time after such a feast, Levonty sang. And often his cheerful mood was passed on to the guys, why they also started songs with friendly voices. At such moments, the narrator often strove to the house of Levonty, but the grandmother, in advance knowing his habits, always guarded him. And if he managed to escape from his grandmother’s gaze, he flew headlong into his neighbor’s house. There Uncle Levonty necessarily drove one of his children from the bench and seated the boy in his place. He was sorry for the orphan and often asked if the boy remembers his mother. And when Uncle Levonty asked the question “What is Zhiv?!”, Everyone grabbed gingerbread, sweets and ran away from home, and the owner began to smash everything, so that the house rang glasses and dishes. In the morning he patted the windows with remorse and the dull went to work.
Here, with these Levontevsky children, the boy was going to go into the forest.
Began to pick berries. Strawberries just started to ripen, berries were white, still green and rare, and the more joyful it was to find them. The boy closed the bottom of his vessel, and then it went faster. But then the Levantevsky guys all quarreled and quarreled because the elder
And when it came to returning home, he thought about it. And then Levontevsky Sanka advised to put the grass in the container, and put the berries on top, so that it seemed as if he had collected a whole bunch of berries. So the boy did. At home, my grandmother praised him, gave her food and put her to bed.
The next day everyone went fishing. At first it did not bite. Then Sanka sent all his people for sorrel, so that they ate something at least. Having caught a little fish, Sanka fried it and gave it to the little ones, and fried afterwards.
In the evening, the biting began. But the boy sat sad, he was ashamed before his grandmother, he was very afraid of punishment and thought out any reasons why it could be avoided. But he firmly decided not to obey Sanka any more.
Soon the grandmother returned from the city. As soon as the boy saw her, he started off with all his might, just not to fall into her hands. Until the darkness he lost to his cousin Kesha, but Fene’s aunt in the evening still took him home.
Auntie left him in the pantry, and she talked to her for a long time with her grandmother. The boy spent the night in the pantry. He recalled how my grandmother experienced a boy after the mother’s death. His mother drowned, six days did not give her the river of her body. Both of them were tormented: mother in water, and grandmother – at home.
In the morning the boy woke up under his grandfather’s sheepskin coat. “My heart jumped joyfully.” And my grandmother told someone in the kitchen: “… A cultured lady, in a hat.” I’ll buy all these berries here. “Please, I’m asking for mercy.” I gather, I say, the bitter sirotinka collected… “. And everyone who came that day to grandma’s house, listened to a story about what he had done small. From these stories, the boy wanted to “die.”
And when Grandfather came up to him and pulled out the leather reins from under the boy, the tears that had accumulated for so long spilled out.
“Well, what are you doing, you?” – My grandfather comforted me, picking up the tears from my face with a big hand. “” Why are you starving? Ask for a break… Go, go, “my grandfather pushed me gently in the back.
Holding my pants with one hand, pressing my other elbow to my eyes, I stepped into the hut and started:
“I’m more… I’m more… I’m more…” and could not say more.
“All right, wash your face and start to crack!” – still uncompromising, but already without a thunder-storm, without a thunder my grandmother cut me off. “
The boy was still uncomfortable for a long time, his grandmother pricked him with might and main. But he knew that at that moment she could not be crossed at any moment: she should speak out. Lowering his head, he also sat when Grandmother was silent. And when he looked up, he saw before him a white horse with a pink mane. And now many years have passed, there is no longer any grandmother or grandfather, and the narrator still remembers the white horse with a pink mane.