He began to feel lonesome on the steamer, and amid the parti-coloured mist of new impressions, still more often there came up before Foma the image of his kind and gentle Aunt Anfisa, with her stories, and smiles, and soft, ringing laughter, which filled the boy's soul with a joyous warmth.

He still lived in the world of fairy-tales, but the invisible and pitiless hand of reality was already at work tearing the beautiful, fine web of the wonderful, through which the boy had looked at everything about him.

The incident with the machinist and the pilot directed his attention to his surroundings; Foma's eyes became more sharp-sighted.

A conscious searchfulness appeared in them and in his questions to his father rang a yearning to understand which threads and springs were managing the deeds of men.
One day a scene took place before him: the sailors were carrying wood, and one of them, the young, curly-haired and gay Yefim, passing the deck of the ship with hand-barrows, said loudly and angrily: "No, he has no conscience whatever! There was no agreement that I should carry wood.

A sailor--well, one's business is clear--but to carry wood into the bargain--thank you! That means for me to take off the skin I have not sold.