"Well, go," Shiryaev assented; "why are you lingering on here? Pack up
and go, and good luck to you."

A minute passed in silence.

"He must have money for the journey, Yevgraf Ivanovitch," the mother
observed in a low voice.

"Money? To be sure, you can't go without money. Take it at once, since
you need it. You could have had it long ago!"

The student heaved a faint sigh and looked with relief at his mother.
Deliberately Shiryaev took a pocket-book out of his coat-pocket and put
on his spectacles.

"How much do you want?" he asked.

"The fare to Moscow is eleven roubles forty-two kopecks...."

"Ah, money, money!" sighed the father. (He always sighed when he saw
money, even when he was receiving it.) "Here are twelve roubles for
you. You will have change out of that which will be of use to you on the
journey."

"Thank you."

After waiting a little, the student said:

"I did not get lessons quite at first last year. I don't know how it