In the evening Volodya’s mother said to him: “Volodya dear, you’ll
waste your time again; perhaps you’d better keep the door open!”
Volodya began his lessons. But he felt vexed because the door had been
left open at his back, and because his mother went past it now and
then.
“I cannot go on like this,” he shouted, moving his chair noisily. “I
cannot do anything when the door is wide open.”
“Volodya, is there any need to shout so?” his mother reproached him
softly.
Volodya already felt repentant, and he began to cry.
“Don’t you see, Volodenka, that I’m worried about you, and that I want
to save you from your thoughts.”
“Mamma, sit here with me,” said Volodya.
His mother took a book and sat down at Volodya’s table. For a few
minutes Volodya worked calmly. But gradually the presence of his mother
began to annoy him.
“I’m being watched just like a sick man,” he thought spitefully.
His thoughts were constantly interrupted, and he was biting his lips.
His mother remarked this at last, and she left the room.
But Volodya felt no relief. He was tormented with regret at showing his
impatience. He tried to go on with his work but he could not. Then he
went to his mother.
“Mamma, why did you leave me?” he asked timidly.