Сестра Керри

Chapter XVII. A Glimpse Through The Gateway: Hope Lightens The Eye

           Thenbrightening,withashowofauthority,“Supposewerunrightthrough,puttinginasmuchexpressionaswecan.”

           “Good,”saidMr.Quincel.

           “Thishand,”resumedMrs.Morgan,glancingupatMr.Bambergeranddownatherbook,asthelinesproceeded,“mymothergraspedinherown,andsotightthatasmall,feeblevoiceutteredanexclamationofpain.Motherlookeddown,andtherebesideherwasalittleraggedgirl.”

           “Verygood,”observedthedirector,nowhopelesslyidle.

           “Thethief!”exclaimedMr.Bamberger.

           “Louder,”putinthedirector,findingitalmostimpossibletokeephishandsoff.

           “Thethief!”roaredpoorBamberger.

           “Yes,butathiefhardlysixyearsold,withafacelikeanangel’s.‘Stop,’saidmymother.‘Whatareyoudoing?’

           “‘Tryingtosteal,’saidthechild.

           “‘Don’tyouknowthatitiswickedtodoso?’askedmyfather.

           “‘No,’saidthegirl,‘butitisdreadfultobehungry.’

           “‘Whotoldyoutosteal?’askedmymother.

           “‘She—there,’saidthechild,pointingtoasqualidwomaninadoorwayopposite,whofledsuddenlydownthestreet.‘ThatisoldJudas,’saidthegirl.”

           Mrs.Morganreadthisratherflatly,andthedirectorwasindespair.Hefidgetedaround,andthenwentovertoMr.Quincel.

           “Whatdoyouthinkofthem?”heasked.

           “Oh,Iguesswe’llbeabletowhipthemintoshape,”saidthelatter,withanairofstrengthunderdifficulties.

           “Idon’tknow,”saidthedirector.“ThatfellowBambergerstrikesmeasbeingaprettypoorshiftforalover.

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