One day Gerasim betook himself to a friend from his village, who lived at the extreme outer edge of Moscow, near Sokolnik. The man was coachman to a merchant by the name of Sharov, in whose service he had been for many years. He had ingratiated himself with his master, so that Sharov trusted him absolutely and gave every sign of holding him in high favour. It was the man’s glib tongue, chiefly, that had gained him his master’s confidence. He told on all the servants, and Sharov valued him for it.  
Gerasim approached and greeted him. The coachman gave his guest a proper reception, served him with tea and something to eat, and asked him how he was doing.
 
“Very badly, Yegor Danilych,” said Gerasim. “I’ve been without a job for weeks.”
 
“Didn’t you ask your old employer to take you back?”
 
“I did.”
 
“He wouldn’t take you again?”
 
“The position was filled already.”
 
“That’s it. That’s the way you young fellows are. You serve your employers so-so, and when you leave your jobs, you usually have muddied up the way back to them. You ought to serve your masters so that they will think a lot of you, and............