Веснушки
Chapter VIII
I’lljustbedrinkingbowlsoficythingsallmewayhomeinthethoughtsofit.”
DowncametheAngel’sfoot.Hereyesflashedindignantly.“There’snosenseinthat,”shesaid.“HowdoyouthinkyouwouldhavefeltwhenyouknewIwaswarmandthirstyandyouwentandbroughtmeadrinkandIwouldn’ttakeitbecause—becausegoodnessknowswhy!Youcanridefastertomakeupforthetime.I’vejustthoughtoutwhatIwanttofixforyou.”
Shesteppedtohissideanddeliberatelyslippedherhandunderhisarm—thatrightarmthatendedinanemptysleeve.
“Youarecoming,”shesaidfirmly.“Iwon’thaveit.”
Frecklescouldnothavetoldhowhefelt,neithercouldanyoneelse.Hisbloodriotedandhisheadswam,buthekepthiswits.Hebentoverher.
“Pleasedon’t,Angel,”hesaidsoftly.“Youdon’tunderstand.”
HowFrecklescametounderstandwasaproblem.
“It’sthis,”hepersisted.“Ifyourfathermetmeonthestreet,inmystationanddress,withyouonmearm,he’dhaveeveryrighttobecaningmebeforethepeople,andnotafingerwouldIlifttostayhim.”
TheAngel’seyessnapped.“Ifyouthinkmyfathercaresaboutmydoinganythingthatisrightandkind,andthatmakesmehappytodo—why,thenyoucompletelyfailedinreadingmyfather,andI’llaskhimandjustshowyou.”
ShedroppedFreckles’armandturnedtowardtheentrancetothebuilding.“Why,lookthere!”sheexclaimed.
