Веснушки
Chapter I
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ThecolorfloodedFreckles’face,buthesaidsimply:“Ifyouwillbehavingthegoodnesstopointhimout,wewillgivehimachancetodohisowntalking.”
Withashrugofastonishment,thecookledthewaytoaroughboardtablewhereabroad,square-shoulderedmanwasbendingoversomeaccount-books.
“Mr.McLean,here’sanothermanwantingtobetakenonthegang,Isuppose,”hesaid.
“Allright,”camethecheeryanswer.“IneverneededagoodmanmorethanIdojustnow.”
Themanagerturnedapageandcarefullybegananewline.
“Nouseofyourbotheringwiththisfellow,”volunteeredthecook.“Hehasn’tbutonehand.”
TheflushonFreckles’faceburneddeeper.Hislipsthinnedtoamereline.Heliftedhisshoulders,tookastepforward,andthrustouthisrightarm,fromwhichthesleevedangledemptyatthewrist.
“Thatwilldo,Sears,”camethevoiceoftheBosssharply.“IwillinterviewmymanwhenIfinishthisreport.”
Heturnedtohiswork,whilethecookhurriedtothefires.Frecklesstoodoneinstantashehadbracedhimselftomeettheeyesofthemanager;thenhisarmdroppedandawaveofwhitenessswepthim.TheBosshadnoteventurnedhishead.Hehadusedthepossessive.Whenhesaid“myman,”thehungryheartofFreckleswentreachingtowardhim.
Theboydrewaquiveringbreath.Thenhewhippedoffhisoldhatandbeatthedustfromitcarefully.Withhislefthandhecaughttherightsleeve,wipedhissweatyface,andtriedtostraightenhishairwithhisfingers.
