Біла пташка

           Awomanwearingthesamekindofclothesaspeopleinotherhouseswear,toldustogouptothesecondfloor,andshegrinnedatDavid,asifshehadheardabouthim;soupwewent,Davidmutteringthroughhisclenchedteeth,“Isha’n’tlaugh,”andassoonasweknockedavoicecalledout,“Hereweareagain!”atwhichashudderpassedthroughDavidasifhefearedthathehadsethimselfanimpossibletask.Inwewent,however,andthoughthevoicehadcertainlycomefromthisroomwefoundnobodythere.IlookedinbewildermentatDavid,andhequicklyputhishandoverhismouth.

           Itwasafunnyroom,ofcourse,butnotsofunnyasyoumightexpect;thereweredrollthingsinit,buttheydidnothingfunny,youcouldseethattheywerejustwaitingforJoey.Therewerepaddedchairswithfriendlylookingrentsdownthemiddleofthem,andatableandahorse-hairsofa,andwesatdownverycautiouslyonthesofabutnothinghappenedtous.

           Thebiggestpieceoffurniturewasanenormouswickertrunk,withaverylivelycolouredstockingdanglingoutataholeinit,andanoticeonthetopthatJoeywasthefunniestmanonearth.Davidtriedtopullthestockingoutofthehole,butitwassolongthatitnevercametoanend,andwhenitmeasuredsixtimesthelengthoftheroomhehadtocoverhismouthagain.

           “I’mnotlaughing,”hesaidtome,quitefiercely.Heevenmanagednottolaugh(thoughhedidgulp)whenwediscoveredonthemantelpieceaphotographofJoeyinordinaryclothes,thegarmentsheworebeforehebecameaclown.Youcan’tthinkhowabsurdhelookedinthem.