That it was my name-day he did not know, and I had thought that no one knew it. When the ceremony of congratulations had finished in the workshop, I changed my clothes and climbed up to the roof of the shed to throw off the smooth, heavy snow which had accumulated during that winter. But being excited, I forgot to close the door of the cellar, and threw all the snow into it. When I jumped down to the ground, I saw my mistake, and set myself at once to get the snow away from the door. Being wet, it lay heavily; the wooden, spade moved it with difficulty; there was no iron one, and I broke the spade at the very moment when the shopman appeared at the yard-gate. The truth of the Russian proverb, "Sorrow follows on the heels of joy," was proved to me. "So--o--o!" said the shopman derisively, "you are a fine workman, the devil take you! If I get hold of your senseless blockhead--" He flourished the blade of the shovel over me. I move away, saying angrily: "I was n't engaged as a yardman, anyhow." He hurled the stick against my legs. I took up a snowball and threw it right in his face. He ran away snorting, and I left off working, and went into the workshop. In a few minutes his fiancée came running downstairs. She was an agile maiden, with pimples on her vacant face. "Maximich, you are to go upstairs!" "I am not going!" I said. Larionich asked in an amazed undertone: "What is this? You are not going?" I told him about the affair. With an anxious frown he went upstairs, muttering to me: "Oh, you impudent youngster--" The workshop resounded with abuse of the shopman, and Kapendiukhin said: "Well, they will kick you out this time!" This did not alarm me. My relations with the shopman had already become unbearable. His hatred of me was undisguised and became more and more acute, while, for my part, I could not endure him. But what I wanted to know was: why did he behave so absurdly to me? He would throw coins about the floor of the shop, and when I was sweeping, I found them, and laid them on the counter in the cup which contained the small money kept for beggars. When I guessed what these frequent finds meant I said to him: "You throw money about in my way on purpose!" He flew out at me and cried incautiously: "Don't you dare to teach me! I know what I am doing!" But he corrected himself immediately: "And what do you mean by my throwing it about purposely? It falls about itself." He forbade me to read the books in the shop, saying: "That is not for you to trouble your head about! What! Have you an idea of becoming a valuer, sluggard?"