"You'll butt me yet," growled Peredonov.
Volodin was offended and said in a trembling voice:
"I haven't grown any horns yet, Ardalyon Borisitch, but it's very likely you'll grow them before I do."
"You've got a long tongue that babbles nonsense," said Peredonov angrily.
"If that's your idea of me, Ardalyon Borisitch," said Volodin quickly, "then I'll be silent."
And his face bore an injured expression and his lips protruded; nevertheless he walked at Peredonov's side; he had not yet dined and he counted on having dinner with Peredonov: luckily they had invited him that morning.
An important piece of news awaited Peredonov at home. While still in the hall it was easy to guess that something unusual had happened—a bustling could be heard in the rooms mingled with frightful exclamations. Peredonov at once thought that the dinner was not ready, and that when they saw him coming they had been frightened and were now hurrying. It was pleasant to him to know that they were afraid of him! But it turned out to be quite another matter. Varvara ran out into the hall and shouted:
"The cat's been sent back!"
In her excitement she did not notice Volodin at first. As usual, her dress was untidy—a greasy blouse over a grey dirty skirt and worn-out house slippers. Her hair was uncombed and tousled. She said to Peredonov excitedly:
"It's Irishka again! She's played us a new trick out of spite. She sent a boy here again to throw the cat in here—and the cat has rattles on its tail and they keep on rattling. The cat has got under the sofa and won't come out."