“Oh no, Varvara Stepanovna!” Volka cried. “I’ll make out fine.”

All he needed now was for a chaperone to bump into that crazy old Hottabych!

Volka appeared to be in the pink of health, and with an easy heart Varvara Stepanovna let him go home.

The doorman rushed towards him as he was on the way out. “Kostylkov! Your grandpa, or whoever he is, the one who came here with you…”

At that very moment, old man Hottabych appeared from the wall. He was as happy as a lark and immensely pleased with himself, and he was humming a little tune.

“Help!” the doorman cried soundlessly and tried in vain to pour himself another cup of tea from the empty kettle. When he put the kettle down and turned around, both Volka Kostylkov and his mysterious companion had disappeared. By then they had already turned the nearest corner.

“Pray tell me, young master, did you astound your teacher and your comrades with your great knowledge?” Hottabych inquired proudly, breaking a rather long silence.

“I astounded them all right!” Volka said and looked at the old man with loathing.

Hottabych beamed. “I expected nothing else! But for a moment there I thought that the most revered daughter of Stepan was displeased with the breadth and scope of your knowledge.”

“Oh, no, no!” Volka cried in fear, recalling Hottabych’s terrible threats. “You were imagining things.”

“I would have changed her into a chopping block on which butchers chop up mutton,” the old man said fiercely (and Volka was really frightened for his teacher’s fate), “if I hadn’t seen that she had such great respect for you and took you to the door of your classroom and then practically down the stairs. I realized then that she had fully appreciated your answers. Peace be with her!”

“Sure, peace be with her!” Volka added hastily, feeling that a load had fallen from his shoulders.