Night and Day. Abdulhamid Sulaymon o’g’li Cho’lpon

to move quickly, throw on that paranji for all to see (that is, to not see), and get to the cart.

      How could they not be elated at the opening of that little door? How could they not feel joy? How could they not taste the sweetness of freedom? How could they not be grateful for a mother who overcame such a stubborn man with a masterful solution? How could they not embrace her, kiss her?

      The two girls ran out of the house and each hung themselves on Qurvonbibi’s neck in gratitude for her benevolence. Hurrying to express their appreciation in a measure equal to the act, they poured out their limitless joy. They so hung on the old woman, so nuzzled up to her, so roughly made her a part of their game that the old woman suddenly felt weak and tumbled onto the table. They screamed with the force of a whistling tea kettle. They so played with the old woman that she gasped for air from exhaustion and could barely breathe.

      “Enough, you damn girls. Enough, I said, enough. You’ll be late!” she said.

      As the old woman begged, the two girls reached the apogee of their excitement. One let up while the other continued on. They teased each other:

      “Is that how it is? Voy, repent! Xalfa eshon’s daughter invited us? Voy, repent,” they said as they tickled one another.

      Finally, the girls were dead tired and they ceased to torture the old woman. They each sat down with an “uh!”

      When they opened the door with a bang and hurried out into the street, the cotton factory let out a thin, piercing whistle signaling that it was twelve o’clock.

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