mamma fixedly for a long time, Yura felt bored and uneasy. He felt
like stationing himself between him and mamma, and no matter where he
went to attend to his own affairs, something was drawing him back.

Sometimes mamma would utter a bad, terrifying phrase:

"Why are you forever staying around here? Go and play in your own
room."

There was nothing left for him to do but to go away. He would take
a book along or he would sit down to draw, but that did not always
help him. Sometimes mamma would praise him for reading but sometimes
she would say again:

"You had better go to your own room, Yurochka. You see, you've
spilt water on the tablecloth again; you always do some mischief with
your drawing."

And then she would reproach him for being perverse. But he felt
worst of all when a dangerous and suspicious guest would come when
Yura had to go to bed. But when he lay down in his bed a sense of
easiness came over him and he felt as though all was ended; the
lights went out, life stopped; everything slept.

In all such cases with suspicious men Yura felt vaguely but very
strongly that he was replacing father in some way. And that made him
somewhat like a grown man--he was in a bad frame of mind, like a
grown person, but, therefore, he was unusually calculating, wise and
serious. Of course, he said nothing about this to any one, for no
one would understand him; but, by the manner in which he caressed