Белая птичка
The Runaway Perambulator
Hadshespokenassheapproached,Iamsureherwordswouldhavebeenasflushedasherface,butnowhermouthpuckeredasDavid’sdoesbeforehesetsforthuponhissmile,andIsawthatshethoughtshehadmeinaparleyatlast.
“Icouldnothelpbeingalittleanxious,”shesaidcraftily,butImustown,withsomesweetness.
Imerelyraisedmyhat,andatthatsheturnedquicklytoDavid—Icannotunderstandwhythemovementwassohasty—andloweredherfacetohis.Oh,littletrumpofaboy!Insteadofkissingher,heseizedherfacewithonehandandtriedtoworkhereyebrowsupanddownwiththeother.Hefailed,andhisobviousdisappointmentinhismotherwasasnectartome.
“Idon’tunderstandwhatyouwant,darling,”saidsheindistress,andlookedatmeinquiringly,andIunderstoodwhathewanted,andletherseethatIunderstood.HadIbeenpreparedtoconversewithher,Ishouldhavesaidelatedlythat,hadsheknownwhathewanted,stillshecouldnothavedoneit,thoughshehadpractisedfortwentyyears.
Itriedtoexpressallthisbyanothermovementofmyhat.
ItcaughtDavid’seyeandatonceheappealedtomewiththemostperfectconfidence.ShefailedtoseewhatIdid,forIshylygavehermyback,buttheeffectonDavidwasmiraculous;hesignedtohertogo,forhewasengagedfortheafternoon.
Whatwouldyouhavedonethen,reader?Ididn’t.InmygreatmomentIhadstrengthofcharactertoraisemyhatforthethirdtimeandwalkaway,leavingthechildtojudgebetweenus
