"Yes, on business. Avdótya Aréfyevna, our respects to you."
"Good morning, Naúm,"—she replied.
All remained silent for a space.
"What have you there—some sort of porridge, I suppose?"—began Naúm....
"Yes, porridge,"—retorted Akím, and suddenly paled:—"but it is n't for thee."
Naúm darted a glance of astonishment at Akím.
"Why is n't it for me?"
"Why, just because it is n't for thee."—Akím's eyes began to flash, and he smote the table with his fist.—"There is nothing in my house for thee, dost hear me?"
"What ails thee, Semyónitch, what ails thee? What 's the matter with thee?"
"There 's nothing the matter with me, but I 'm tired of thee, Naúm Ivánitch, that 's what."—The old man rose to his feet, trembling all over.—"Thou hast taken to haunting my house altogether too much, that 's what."