"Nonsense, nonsense!" cried the father.
"I'll give him a beating without fail," exclaimed Julia, as she caught her son by the shoulder and was about to drag him into the kitchen.
"Antosha!" she cried. "Come along; I'll give you a whipping."
"I'll not let you have him," cried the father, tearing his son away from her.
His mother held on to him; Antosha made despairing outcries, and the parents tustled with each other.
"Help me, Ardalyon Borisitch," cried Julia. "Hold this monster while I settle with Antosha."
Peredonov went to help. But Goudayevsky got his son away from Julia, pushed her aside, sprang towards Peredonov and cried threateningly:
"Don't you come here! When two dogs are fighting the third one had better keep away! Yes, and I'll see to you!"
Red, unkempt, perspiring, he shook his fist in the air. Peredonov retreated, muttering inaudible words. Julia ran round her husband and tried to catch hold of Antosha. His father hid him behind and pulled him by the arm, now to the right, now to the left. Julia, her eyes gleaming, cried:
"He'll grow up to be a cut-throat! He'll get into gaol! Hard labour'll be his fate."