doctor's angry words:

"Come, why are you bawling? Am I murdering you, or what? Sit quiet!"

Pashka's turn came.

"Pavel Galaktionov!" shouted the doctor.

His mother was aghast, as though she had not expected this summons,
and taking Pashka by the hand, she led him into the room.

The doctor was sitting at the table, mechanically tapping on a thick
book with a little hammer.

"What's wrong?" he asked, without looking at them.

"The little lad has an ulcer on his elbow, sir," answered his mother,
and her face assumed an expression as though she really were terribly
grieved at Pashka's ulcer.

"Undress him!"

Pashka, panting, unwound the kerchief from his neck, then wiped his
nose on his sleeve, and began deliberately pulling off his sheepskin.

"Woman, you have not come here on a visit!" said the doctor angrily.
"Why are you dawdling? You are not the only one here."

Pashka hurriedly flung the sheepskin on the floor, and with his
mother's help took off his shirt. . . The doctor looked at him