"What a mess you've made!" exclaimed Volodin, delightedly.
"Won't Irishka be surprised," said Varvara, with a dry, malicious laugh.
And all three, standing before the wall, began to spit at it, to tear the paper, and to smear it with their boots. Afterwards, tired but pleased, they ceased.
Peredonov bent down and picked up the cat, a fat, white, ugly beast. He began to torment the animal, pulling its ears, and tail, and then shook it by the neck. Volodin laughed gleefully and suggested other methods of tormenting the animal.
"Ardalyon Borisitch, blow into his eyes! Brush his fur backwards!"
The cat snarled, and tried to get away, but dared not show its claws. It was always thrashed for scratching. At last this amusement palled on Peredonov and he let the cat go.
"Listen, Ardalyon Borisitch, I've got something to tell you," began Volodin. "I kept thinking of it all the way here and now I'd almost forgotten it."
"Well?" asked Peredonov.
"I know you like sweet things," said Volodin, "and I know one that will make you lick your fingers!"
"There's nothing you could teach me about things to eat," remarked Peredonov.