Портрет художника в юности

Chapter 1

           Butsoonthegaswouldbelitandinburningitmadealightnoiselikealittlesong.Alwaysthesame:andwhenthefellowsstoppedtalkingintheplayroomyoucouldhearit.

           Itwasthehourforsums.FatherArnallwroteahardsumontheboardandthensaid:

           Nowthen,whowillwin?Goahead,York!Goahead,Lancaster!

           Stephentriedhisbest,butthesumwastoohardandhefeltconfused.Thelittlesilkbadgewiththewhiteroseonitthatwaspinnedonthebreastofhisjacketbegantoflutter.Hewasnogoodatsums,buthetriedhisbestsothatYorkmightnotlose.FatherArnall’sfacelookedveryblack,buthewasnotinawax:hewaslaughing.ThenJackLawtoncrackedhisfingersandFatherArnalllookedathiscopybookandsaid:

           Right.BravoLancaster!Theredrosewins.Comeonnow,York!Forgeahead!

           JackLawtonlookedoverfromhisside.Thelittlesilkbadgewiththeredroseonitlookedveryrichbecausehehadabluesailortopon.Stephenfelthisownfaceredtoo,thinkingofallthebetsaboutwhowouldgetfirstplaceinelements,JackLawtonorhe.SomeweeksJackLawtongotthecardforfirstandsomeweekshegotthecardforfirst.HiswhitesilkbadgeflutteredandflutteredasheworkedatthenextsumandheardFatherArnall’svoice.Thenallhiseagernesspassedawayandhefelthisfacequitecool.Hethoughthisfacemustbewhitebecauseitfeltsocool.Hecouldnotgetouttheanswerforthesumbutitdidnotmatter.

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