A good beet-soup with pigeons, which Gapka had cooked for him, quite drove from his mind the occurrences of the morning.

Again Ivan Ivanovitch began to gaze at his belongings with satisfaction.

At length his eye rested on the neighbouring yard; and he said to himself, "I have not been to Ivan Nikiforovitch's to-day: I'll go there now." So saying, Ivan Ivanovitch took his stick and his hat, and directed his steps to the street; but scarcely had he passed through the gate than he recollected the quarrel, spit, and turned back.

Almost the same thing happened at Ivan Nikiforovitch's house.

Ivan Ivanovitch saw the woman put her foot on the fence, with the intention of climbing over into his yard, when suddenly Ivan Nikiforovitch's voice was heard crying: "Come back! it won't do!" But Ivan Ivanovitch found it very tiresome.