Kolya stared at him. He could not recall when he could have had a row with the man. But he had been in so many rows in the street that he could hardly remember them all.
“Do you?” he asked sarcastically.
“I know you! I know you!” the man repeated idiotically.
“So much the better for you. Well, it’s time I was going. Goodbye!”
“You are at your saucy pranks again?” cried the man.
“You are at your saucy pranks again? I know, you are at it again!”
“It’s not your business, brother, if I am at my saucy pranks again,” said Kolya, standing still and scanning him.
“Not my business?”
“No; it’s not your business.”
“Whose then? Whose then? Whose then?”
“It’s Trifon Nikititch’s business, not yours.”
“What Trifon Nikititch?” asked the youth, staring with loutish amazement at Kolya, but still as angry as