Біла пташка
The Runaway Perambulator
AtfirstMary,towhomtheofferwaspassedon,rejecteditwithhauteur,butpresentlyshewavered,andtheupshotwasthatIrene,lookingscornfulandanxious,arrivedonedaywiththeperambulator.Withoutcastingeyesonitsoccupant,IpointedIrenetothedoor:“Inhalf-an-hour,”Isaid.
Shebeggedpermissiontoremain,andpromisedtoturnherback,andsoon,butIwasobdurate,andshethendeliveredherselfofapassionatelyaffectionatefarewelltohercharge,whichwasreallyalldirectedagainstme,andendedwiththesepowerfulwords:“Andifhetakesoffyoursocks,mypretty,mayhebeblastedforevermore.”
“Ishallprobablytakeoffhersocks,”Isaidcarelesslytothis.
Hersocks.DoyouseewhatmadeIrenescream?
“Itisagirl,isitnot?”Iasked,thusneatlydeprivingherofcoherentspeechasIpushedhertothedoor.Ithenturnedroundto—tobegin,and,afterreflecting,Ibeganbysittingdownbehindthehoodofhiscarriage.Myplanwastoaccustomhimtohisnewsurroundingsbeforeburstingonthescenemyself.
Ihadvariousthoughts.Washeawake?Ifnot,betterlethimwakenaturally.Half-an-hourwasalongtime.WhyhadInotsaidquarter-of-an-hour?Anon,IsawthatifIwastosittheremuchlongerIshouldhavesaidanhour,soIwhistledsoftly;buthetooknonotice.IremembertryingtopersuademyselfthatifIneverbudgedtillIrene’sreturn,itwouldbeanamusingtriumphoverMary.Icoughed,butstilltherewasnoresponse.Abruptly,thefearsmoteme.Perhapsheisnotthere.
