: The boy dreams of new pants. Having received a new thing, he very quickly spoils it and realizes that happiness is not in his pants.
The story is written on behalf of the boy Viti. He was ordered to sort out the potatoes. Grandmother measured out his “lesson” with two rutabagas, and he sits all morning in the cold, frosty cellar. Escaping the boy is hindered only by the dream of new pants with a pocket, which grandmother Katerina promised to sew by the first of May - Vitino's eight-year anniversary.
I see myself clearly in these pants, smart, beautiful. My hand is in my pocket, and I walk around the village and do not take out my hand.
Viti never had new pants. Until now, clothes have been changed for him from outdated things. Having moved the rutabaga closer a couple of times, Victor overcomes the “lesson” just in time for dinner. Grandmother notices cheating when the boy is already jumping out of the cellar.
Grandmother bought the material for her pants for a long time. She was stored in the depths of her chest. Vitya, however, doubted that his grandmother would have time to sew up her pants: she was always busy. In their village, she is like a general, everyone respects grandmother Katerina and runs to her for help. When a man takes a drink and begins to run amok, all family values are deposited in a grandmother's chest, and the drunkard family is saved in her house.
When the grandmother opens the treasured chest, Vitka is always nearby and strokes the matter with dirty fingers.Neither punishment nor goodies help - the boy roars and demands pants.
My hopes did not come true. By birthday, by May 1st, the pants were not sewn. In the very thaw of a grandmother fell ill.
She is put in a room on a high bed, and from there her grandmother commands numerous assistants. Grandma is worried - she didn’t sew her grandson’s pants - and Vitka tries to distract her with conversations, asks what kind of illness she has. Grandmother says that this disease is from hard work, but even in her difficult life she finds more joys than sorrows.
Grandma began to sew her pants as soon as she recovered a little. Vitya does not leave her all day, and is so tired of the endless fitting that he falls asleep without supper. Waking up in the morning, he finds new blue pants, a white shirt and mending boots near his bed. Grandmother releases Vitya alone to his grandfather for a loan.
Discharged to the smithereens, with a bundle in which there were fresh concoctions for my grandfather, I left the yard when the sun was already high and the whole village lived its ordinary, unkempt life.
After listening to admiring sighs, the boy goes to his grandfather.
The path to the settlement is not long, through the taiga. Vitya doesn’t play pranks, he walks sedately so as not to get his pants dirty and not to bring down new toes on his boots. On the way, he stops on a rock, which marks the confluence of two mighty rivers - Mana and the Yenisei - for a long time admiring the taiga distances and manages to soak precious pants in the river. While the pants and boots dry, Victor sleeps. The dream does not last long, and now the boy is already on the run.
Together with his grandfather, the neighbor Sanka lives on the estate, learns to plow.He examines Vitka with envy, calls him "a monk in new pants." Vitka understands - this is out of envy, but still he comes across Sankin's trick. He chooses the pit with viscous mud remaining after the river bottling, very briskly runs across it and begins to knock Vitka down on the same feat. The boy does not stand the Sankin bullying, runs into the pit and bogs down. Cold mud squeezes his arthritic feet. Sanka is trying to pull him out, but there is not enough strength. We must run after my grandfather. And then Grandma Katerina appears at the pit. She felt that trouble was with her grandson and hurried to the capture.
For four days Vitya lay on the stove with an attack of arthritis.
Grandma could not catch Sanka. As I guessed, my grandfather was taking Sanka out of the intended retaliation.
Sanka is forgiven when he accidentally sets fire to his shelter - an old hunting hut by the river. The boots drowned in the mud, and the grandmother washed his pants, and they faded, lost their luster. But all summer ahead. “And a jester with them, with trousers and with boots, too,” thinks Vitka. - “I’ll make more. I’ll make it. ”
