While Rakhim-aga and Arsian had been absent,
Grandmother Mengli had undertaken a fall cleaning. By all appearances,
it was still underway. Carpets and rugs were hanging up in the yard, and
a large mirror was propped up against the house.
"Me-me-me!" Bubenchik bleated angrily. He pranced up to the mirror and saw-a kid with a bell around its neck.
Two kids together always spell trouble.
The next instant Arslan's mild-tempered little friend reared back from the mirror, shook his head, and went charging full speed at the enemy. The other kid also charged at its opponent.
"Crash!" The mirror shattered into tiny pieces.
"Me-me-me!" Bubenchik bleated plaintively.
Grandmother grabbed a broom, intending to punish the culprit, but Rakhim-aga barred her way:
"Why beat him? He's a courageous kid! He didn't back down before an enemy."
Arslan gave his friend a hug and said:
"Grandma, he's still little! There's a lot ho doesn't understand."
Grandmother Mengli reflected for a while and finally decided:
"That mirror was old and dark with age anyway. It's time we bought a new one, old man. Maybe we'll become young again too when we look into it."