Портрет художника в юності
Chapter 1
Hebumpedhiselbowagainstthedoorattheendand,hurryingdownthestaircase,walkedquicklythroughthetwocorridorsandoutintotheair.
Hecouldhearthecriesofthefellowsontheplaygrounds.Hebrokeintoarunand,runningquickerandquicker,ranacrossthecinderpathandreachedthethirdlineplayground,panting.
Thefellowshadseenhimrunning.Theyclosedroundhiminaring,pushingoneagainstanothertohear.
—Tellus!Tellus!
—Whatdidhesay?
—Didyougoin?
—Whatdidhesay?
—Tellus!Tellus!
Hetoldthemwhathehadsaidandwhattherectorhadsaidand,whenhehadtoldthem,allthefellowsflungtheircapsspinningupintotheairandcried:
—Hurroo!
Theycaughttheircapsandsentthemupagainspinningsky-highandcriedagain:
—Hurroo!Hurroo!
Theymadeacradleoftheirlockedhandsandhoistedhimupamongthemandcarriedhimalongtillhestruggledtogetfree.Andwhenhehadescapedfromthemtheybrokeawayinalldirections,flingingtheircapsagainintotheairandwhistlingastheywentspinningupandcrying:
—Hurroo!
AndtheygavethreegroansforBaldyheadDolanandthreecheersforConmeeandtheysaidhewasthedecentestrectorthatwaseverinClongowes.
Thecheersdiedawayinthesoftgreyair.Hewasalone
