Таинственный сад

X. Dickon

           WhoelsecouldhavebeencharmingrabbitsandpheasantsasthenativescharmsnakesinIndia?Hehadawide,red,curvingmouthandhissmilespreadalloverhisface.

           “Igotupslow,”heexplained,“becauseiftha’makesaquickmoveitstartles’em.Abody’astomovegentlean’speaklowwhenwildthingsisabout.”

           Hedidnotspeaktoherasiftheyhadneverseeneachotherbeforebutasifheknewherquitewell.Maryknewnothingaboutboysandshespoketohimalittlestifflybecauseshefeltrathershy.

           “DidyougetMartha’sletter?”sheasked.

           Henoddedhiscurly,rust-coloredhead.

           “That’swhyIcome.”

           Hestoopedtopickupsomethingwhichhadbeenlyingonthegroundbesidehimwhenhepiped.

           “I’vegotth’gardentools.There’salittlespadean’rakean’aforkan’hoe.Eh!theyaregood’uns.There’satrowel,too.An’th’womaninth’shopthrewinapacketo’whitepoppyan’oneo’bluelarkspurwhenIboughtth’otherseeds.”

           “Willyoushowtheseedstome?”Marysaid.

           Shewishedshecouldtalkashedid.Hisspeechwassoquickandeasy.Itsoundedasifhelikedherandwasnottheleastafraidshewouldnotlikehim,thoughhewasonlyacommonmoorboy,inpatchedclothesandwithafunnyfaceandarough,rusty-redhead.Asshecameclosertohimshenoticedthattherewasacleanfreshscentofheatherandgrassandleavesabouthim,almostasifheweremadeofthem.Shelikeditverymuchandwhenshelookedintohisfunnyfacewiththeredcheeksandroundblueeyessheforgotthatshehadfeltshy.

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