Then Peredonov declared that the cart would jolt and that he did not like jolts. They returned to the summer-house. Everything was ready, but Ignaty was still in the kitchen eating slowly and solidly. "How does Vladya get on with his lessons?" asked Marta. She did not know what else to talk about with Peredonov, and Vershina had more than once reproached her for not knowing how to entertain him. "Badly," said Peredonov; "he's lazy and doesn't pay attention." Vershina loved to grumble. She began to scold Vladya. The boy flushed and smiled, and shrivelled into his clothes as if he were cold, lifting one shoulder higher than the other, as his habit was. "The year has only just begun," he said, "I've got plenty of time to catch up." "You ought to start from the very beginning," said Marta in a very grown-up way, which slightly embarrassed her. "Yes, he's always in mischief," said Peredonov. "Only yesterday, he was running about with some of the others as if they were street boys. He's impertinent too. Last Thursday he was quite cheeky to me." Vladya suddenly flushed up with indignation, yet still smiled, and said: "I wasn't impertinent. I only told the truth. The other copy-books had five mistakes not marked, and all mine were marked. And I only got two though mine was better than the boys who got three." "And that wasn't the only time you were impertinent," persisted Peredonov. "I wasn't impertinent, I only said that I would tell the inspector," said Vladya heatedly. "Vladya, you forget yourself!" said Vershina angrily; "instead of apologising you're only repeating what you said." Vladya suddenly remembered that he ought not to provoke Peredonov, as he might marry Marta. He grew even redder and in his confusion shifted his belt and said timidly: "I'm sorry. I only meant to ask you to make the correction." "Be quiet, please!" interrupted Vershina. "I can't stand such wrangling--I really can't," she repeated, and her thin body trembled almost imperceptibly. "You're being spoken to, so be silent," and Vershina poured out on Vladya many reproachful words, puffing at her cigarette and smiling her wry smile, as she usually did when she was talking, no matter what the subject was. "We shall have to tell your father, so that he can punish you," she concluded. "He needs birching," suggested Peredonov, and looked angrily at the offending Vladya. "Certainly," agreed Vershina. "He needs birching." "He needs birching," repeated Marta and blushed. "I'm going with you to your father to-day," said Peredonov, "and I'll see that he gives you a good birching." Vladya looked silently at his tormentors, shrank within himself and smiled through his tears. His father was a harsh man. Vladya tried to console himself with the thought that these were only threats. Surely, he thought, they would not really spoil his holiday. For a holiday was a specially happy occasion and not a schoolday affair.