“Nothing, really,” muttered Volodya, flushing and changing colour rapidly.
It flashed upon her that Volodya wished to smoke, and that he had hidden a cigarette.
“Volodya, show me at once what you are hiding,” she said in a frightened voice.
“Really, mamma....”
She caught Volodya by the elbow.
“Must I feel in your pocket myself?”
Volodya grew even redder, and pulled the little book out of his pocket.
“Here it is,” he said, giving it to his mother.
“Well, what is it?”
“Well, here,” he explained, “on this side are the drawings, and here, as you see, are the shadows. I was trying to throw them on the wall, and I haven’t succeeded very well.”