"That's strange," said Grisha with astonishment. "My mother and I have one family name; we are called the Igumnovs."
"That's because," explained Mishka with animation, "your grandfather was an _igumen_."[3]
"No," said Grisha, "my grandfather was a colonel."
"All the same it's likely that his father, or some one else was an _igumen_, and so you have all become the Igumnovs."
Grisha did not know who his great-grandfather was, so he said nothing, Mishka kept on eyeing his mittens.
"New ones," Grisha explained, with a joyous smile. "It's the first time I've put them on; d'you see, here is a little string drawn through!"
"Well, you're a lucky one! And are they quite warm?"
"I have also mittens at home, but I haven't put them on because I don't like them. They are yellow, and I don't like yellow ones. Let me put yours on, and I'll run along and show them to my _babushka_, and ask her to get me a pair like them."
Mishka looked at Grisha pleadingly, and his eyes sparkled enviously.
"You won't keep me waiting long?" asked Grisha.
"No, I live quite near here, just round the corner. Don't be afraid! Upon my word, in a minute!"
Grisha trustfully took off his mittens and gave them to Mishka.
"I'll be back in a minute, wait here, don't go away," exclaimed Mishka, as he ran off with Grisha's mittens. He disappeared round the corner, and Grisha was left waiting. He did not imagine that Mishka would fool him; he thought that he would simply run home, show his mittens, and return with them. He stood there long and waited, and Mishka did not even dream of returning.
The short autumn day was already darkening; Grisha's mother, restless because of her boy's long absence, went out to look for him. Grisha at last understood that Mishka would not return. The poor boy turned sadly toward home and he met his mother.
"Grisha, what have you done with yourself" she asked, angry and glad at finding her son.
Grisha did not reply. He seemed embarrassed as he rubbed his hands, red with cold. His mother then noticed that he did not wear his mittens.
"Where are your mittens?" she asked angrily, as she searched his overcoat pockets.
Grisha smiled and said: "I lent them to a boy for a short time, and he didn't bring them back."