Спрут: Калифорнийская история

           Hilda’sweightborehertothepavement.Morethanonceagreatgiddiness,acertainwheelingfaintnessallbutovercameher.Hilda,however,wasasleep.Towakeherwouldonlymeantorevivehertotheconsciousnessofhunger;yethowtocarryherfurther?Mrs.Hoovenbegantofearthatshewouldfallwithherchildinherarms.Theterrorofacollapseuponthosecoldpavementsglisteningwithfog-damprousedher;shemustmakeanefforttogetthroughthenight.Sheralliedallherstrength,andpausingamomenttoshifttheweightofherbabytotheotherarm,oncemoresetoffthroughthenight.Alittlewhilelatershefoundontheedgeofthesidewalkthepeelingofabanana.Ithadbeentroddenuponanditwasmuddy,butjoyfullyshecaughtitup.

           “Hilda,”shecried,“wakeoop,leedlegirl.See,loogden,dere’ssomedingstoeat.Lookden,hey?Dat’sgoot,ain’tit?Zumbunaner.”

           Butitcouldnotbeeaten.Decayed,dirty,allbutrotting,thestomachturnedfromtherefuse,nauseated.

           “No,no,”criedHilda,“that’snotgood.Ican’teatit.Oh,Mammy,pleasegifmethosebread’nmilk.”

           BynowtheguestsofMrs.Gerardhadcometotheentrees—Londonderrypheasants,escallopsofduck,andrissolettesalapompadour.ThewinewasChateauLatour.

           Allaroundthetableconversationsweregoingforwardgayly.Thegoodwineshadbrokenuptheslightrestraintoftheearlypartoftheeveningandaspiritofgoodhumourandgoodfellowshipprevailed.YoungLambertandMr.Gerardweredeepinreminiscencesofcertainmutualduck-shootingexpeditions.Mrs.GerardandMrs.