OH GODKA!

Great Jean Grigorovitch and little Peter Mickiewinski stood looking at the poster on the door of the Yasnaia Poliana town hall.

"What does it say, Jean?" said Peter, whose head came only to the third button of Jean's great warm kaftan, and therefore could not see.

"It says that the little saint who helps the women keep the cold nights warm and the long nights short is coming to us again," answered great Jean Grigorovitch to his friend, little Peter Mickiewinski.

"And wnat little saint is that?" asked Peter.

"The little saint that is made of rye and harley and potatoes and trickles down your throat and into your stomach and so on," was the answer that little Peter Mickiewinski received from his friend great Jean Grigorovitch.

"Oh," shouted Peter, "the little saint Vodka!" and he put his arms about great Jean and kissed him on the third button of his great warm kaftan.

Then they went away and pretty soon along came great Mrs. Maria Mickiewinski and her friend little Mrs. Anna Grigorovitch, and the top of little Anna's head came only to the third button of Maria's great warm vorotneke. And little Anna said to great Maria:

"What does the poster say?"

"It says that the little devil who takes our husbands away from us and makes the cold nights colder and the long nights longer is coming to us again," answered great Mrs. Maria Mickiewinski to her friend little Mrs. Anna Grigorovitch.

"And what little devil is that?" asked Anna.

"The little devil that is made of rye and barley and potatoes and trickles down our husbands' throats and into their stomachs and so on," was the answer that little Mrs. Anna Grigorovitch received from her friend great Mrs. Maria Mickiewinski.

"Oh," wept Anna, "the little devil Vodka," and she put her arms about great Maria and kissed her sorrowfully on the third button of her great warm vorotneke.

Meanwhile Lenin and Trotzky were looking at the same poster, their handiwork, in the dining room of the ex-little father, Nicholas. And Lenin had his feet on the table where Princess Olga once spilled her soup, and Trotzky was tapping with his knee the spot where the Czarevitch had once stuck a cud of Wrigleyitch gum.

"Trotzky," said Lenin, "now that we have given all the little Russians their Vodka back again, they won't give a ruble if they have us, will they?"

Trotzky spat on the chair where the Czarina used to sit. That made it emphatic when he said, "Quite right, Lenin." Then Lenin and Trotzky rang for ex-Prince Michael, who came in, stepping on the red rattlesnake embroidered in the carpet.

"Vodka," said Lenin and Trotzky, and they raised their boots to the third button on the tail of Prince Michael's coat in order to help him through the door. And the long night was short and the cold night was warm to Lenin and Trotzky, because of the devilish little saint made of rye and barley and potatoes, the saintly little devil that trickles down one's throat and into one's stomach 'and so on,--Vodka.