will be this year; most likely it will take me a little time to find
work. I ought to ask you for fifteen roubles for my lodging and dinner."

Shiryaev thought a little and heaved a sigh.

"You will have to make ten do," he said. "Here, take it."

The student thanked him. He ought to have asked him for something more,
for clothes, for lecture fees, for books, but after an intent look at
his father he decided not to pester him further.

The mother, lacking in diplomacy and prudence, like all mothers, could
not restrain herself, and said:

"You ought to give him another six roubles, Yevgraf Ivanovitch, for a
pair of boots. Why, just see, how can he go to Moscow in such wrecks?"

"Let him take my old ones; they are still quite good."

"He must have trousers, anyway; he is a disgrace to look at."

And immediately after that a storm-signal showed itself, at the sight of
which all the family trembled.

Shiryaev's short, fat neck turned suddenly red as a beetroot. The colour
mounted slowly to his ears, from his ears to his temples, and by degrees
suffused his whole face. Yevgraf Ivanovitch shifted in his chair
and unbuttoned his shirt-collar to save himself from choking. He
was evidently struggling with the feeling that was mastering him. A
deathlike silence followed. The children held their breath. Fedosya