Volka marched downstairs, solemnly carrying the sofa pillows to the waiting truck.

“Are you moving?” a boy from next door asked.

“Yes,” Volka answered indifferently, as though he was used to moving from one apartment to another every week and there was nothing very special about it.

The janitor, Stepanych, walked over, slowly rolled a cigarette and began an unhurried conversation as one grown-up talk to another. The boy felt dizzy with pride and happiness. He gathered his courage and invited Stepanych to visit them at their new home. The janitor said, “With pleasure.” A serious, important, man-to-man conversation was beginning, when all at once Volka’s mother’s voice came through the open window:

“Volka! Volka! Where can that awful child be?” Volka raced up to the strangely large and empty apartment in which shreds of old newspapers and old medicine bottles were lying forlornly about the floor.

“At last!” his mother said. “Take your precious aquarium and get right into the truck. I want you to sit on the sofa and hold the aquarium on your lap. There’s no other place for it. But be sure the water doesn’t splash on the sofa.”

It’s really strange, the way parents worry when they’re moving to a new apartment.

THE STRANGE VESSEL

Well, the truck finally choked exhaustedly and stopped at the attractive entrance of Volka’s new house. The movers quickly carried everything upstairs and soon were gone.

Volka’s father opened a few crates and said, “We’ll do the rest in the evening.” Then he left for the factory.

Mother and Grandma began unpacking the pots and pans, while Volka decided to run down to the river nearby. His father had warned him not to go swimming without him, because the river was very deep, but Volka soon found an excuse: “I have to go in for a dip to clear my head. How can I take an exam with a fuzzy brain!”