from his friend. "They want an answer," said the servant.

The letter ran as follows: "I ask you now for the third time to pay me
back the six roubles you have borrowed; you are trying to avoid me. That
is not the way an honest man ought to behave. Will you please send the
amount by my messenger? I am myself in a frightful fix. Can you not get
the money somewhere?--Yours, according to whether you send the money or
not, with scorn, or love, Grouchetsky."

"There we have it! Such a pig! Could he not wait a while? I will have
another try."

Mitia went to his mother. This was his last hope. His mother was very
kind, and hardly ever refused him anything. She would probably have
helped him this time also out of his trouble, but she was in great
anxiety: her younger child, Petia, a boy of two, had fallen ill. She got
angry with Mitia for rushing so noisily into the nursery, and refused
him almost without listening to what he had to say. Mitia muttered
something to himself and turned to go. The mother felt sorry for him.
"Wait, Mitia," she said; "I have not got the money you want now, but I
will get it for you to-morrow."

But Mitia was still raging against his father.

"What is the use of having it to-morrow, when I want it to-day? I am
going to see a friend. That is all I have got to say."

He went out, banging the door. . . .

"Nothing else is left to me. He will tell me how to pawn my watch," he