Белая птичка
The Runaway Perambulator
Therewas,inparticular,onevulgarlittlestreet-boy—
However,ifthatdampedmeinthemomentofvictory,Iwassoontotriumphgloriouslyinwhatbeganlikedefeat.Ihadsatmedownononeofthegarden-seatsintheFigs,withonehandrestingcarelesslyontheperambulator,inimitationofthenurses,itwassopleasanttoassumetheairofonewhowalkedwithDaviddaily,whentomychagrinIsawMaryapproachingwithquickstealthysteps,andalreadysonearmethatflightwouldhavebeenignominy.Porthos,ofwhomshehadhold,boundedtowardme,wavinghistraitoroustail,butsheslowedonseeingthatIhadobservedher.Shehadrunmedownwithmyowndog.
IhavenotmentionedthatPorthoshadforsometimenowbeenavisitoratherhouse,thoughnevercanIforgettheshockIgotthefirsttimeIsawhimstrollingoutofitlikeanafternooncaller.Oflatehehasavoidedit,crossingtotheothersidewhenIgothatway,andrejoiningmefartheron,soIconcludethatMary’shusbandispaintinghim.
Iwaitedhercomingstiffly,ingreatdepressionofspirits,andnotedthatherfirstattentionswereforDavid,who,somewhatshabbily,gavehertheendofasmilewhichhadbeenbegunforme.Itseemedtorelieveher,forwhatonemaycallthewildmaternallookleftherface,andtryingtochecklittlegaspsofbreath,theresultofunseemlyrunning,shesignedtoherconfederatestoremaininthebackground,andturnedcuriouseyesonme.
