“And the lodging-house?”
Ignat looked at his son and began to laugh.
“Yakov has had time to tell it to you already! The old miser. He must have abused me?”
“A little.” Foma smiled.
“Of course! Don’t I know him?”
“He spoke of it as though it were his own money.”
Ignat leaned back in his chair and burst into still louder laughter.
“The old raven, eh? That’s quite true. Whether it be his own money or mine, it is all the same to him. There he is trembling now. He has an aim in view, the bald-headed fellow. Can you tell me what it is?”
Foma thought awhile and said:
“I don’t know.”