Веснушки

           Theybeganjumpingfromtheirnestsanddartingfromunexpectedplacesaroundherheadandfeet,withquickwhirs,thatkeptherstartinganddodging.BeforeFreckleswashalfwaytothetown,poorMrs.Duncanwashysterical,andtheLimberlosthadneithersungnorperformedforher.

           Buttherewastroublebrewing.Itwasquietandintenselyhot,withthatstiflingstillnessthatprecedesasummerstorm,andfeathersandfurweretenseandnervous.Thebirdsweresingingonlyafewbrokensnatches,andflyingaround,seekingplacesofshelter.Onemomenteverythingseemeddevoidoflife,thenexttherewasanunexpectedwhir,buzz,andsharpcry.Inside,apandemoniumofgrowling,spatting,snarling,andgruntingbrokeloose.

           Theswalebentflatbeforeheavygustsofwind,andthebigblackchickensweptlowerandlowerabovetheswamp.Patchesofcloudsgathered,shuttingoutthesunandmakingitverydark,andthenextmomentweresweptaway.Thesunpouredwithfierce,burningbrightness,andeverythingwasquiet.ItwasatthefirstgrowlofthunderthatFrecklesreallyhadnoticedtheweather,andputtinghisowntroublesasideresolutely,racedfortheswamp.

           SarahDuncanpausedontheline.“Weel,Iwouldnastayinthisplaceforamillionamonth,”shesaidaloud,andthesoundofhervoicebroughtnocomfort,foritwassolittlelikeshehadthoughtitthatsheglancedhastilyaroundtoseeifithadreallybeenshethatspoke.Shetremblinglywipedtheperspirationfromherfacewiththeskirtofhersunbonnet.

           “Awfu’hot,”shepantedhuskily.“B’lievethere’sgoingtobeabigstorm.