"Vladislav!" shouted Marta.
"Yes?" answered the boy from so close that it seemed as if he had been listening to them.
"Bring some more beer—two bottles," said Marta, "they're in the box in the corridor."
Vladislav soon came back noiselessly, handed the beer to Marta through the window and greeted Peredonov.
"How are you?" asked Peredonov with a scowl. "How many bottles of beer have you got away with to-day?"
Vladislav smiled in a constrained way and said:
"I don't drink beer."
He was a boy of about fourteen with a freckled face like Marta's, and with uneasy, clumsy movements like hers. He was dressed in a blouse of coarse linen.
Marta began to talk to her brother in whispers. They both laughed. Peredonov looked suspiciously at them. Whenever people laughed in his presence without his knowing the reason he always supposed that they were laughing at him. Vershina felt disturbed and tried to catch Marta's eye. But Peredonov himself showed his annoyance by asking:
"What are you laughing at?"