Smolin!" A plump boy came up to them, and Yozhov accosted him, shaking his head reproachfully: "Eh, you red-headed slanderer! It isn't worth while to be friends with you, blockhead!" "Why do you abuse me ?" asked Smolin, calmly, examining Foma fixedly.
"I am not abusing you; I am telling the truth," Yozhov explained, straightening himself with animation.

"Listen! Although you are a kissel, but--let it go! We'll come up to see you on Sunday after mass." "Come," Smolin nodded his head.
"We'll come up.

They'll ring the bell soon.

I must run to sell the siskin," declared Yozhov, pulling out of his pocket a paper package, wherein some live thing was struggling.

And he disappeared from the school-yard as mercury from the palm of a hand.
"What a queer fellow he is!" said Foma, dumfounded by Yozhov's adroitness and looking at Smolin interrogatively.
"He is always like this.