He drew back from the railing and walked up to the table again, feeling that his cheeks were burning.
"Listen!" said the receiver, addressing him, "wire to your father asking him to allow some grain for waste! Just see how much is lost here.

And here every pound is precious! You should have understood this! What a fine father you have," he concluded with a biting grimace.
"How much shall I allow ?" asked Foma, boldly and disdainfully.

"Do you want a hundred puds?
[A pud is a weight of 40 Russian pounds.] Two hundred ?" "I--I thank you!" exclaimed the receiver, overjoyed and confused, "if you have the right to do it." "I am the master!" said Foma, firmly.

"And you must not speak that way about my father--nor make such faces." "Pardon me! I--I do not doubt that you have full power.

I thank you heartily.