Сестра Керрі

Chapter XLVII. The Way Of The Beaten: A Harp In The Wind

           Already,ateleveno’clockofthismorning,severalsuchashehadshambledforwardoutofSixthAvenue,theirthinclothesflappingandflutteringinthewind.TheyleanedagainsttheironrailingwhichprotectsthewallsoftheNinthRegimentArmory,whichfrontsuponthatsectionofFifteenthStreet,havingcomeearlyinordertobefirstin.Havinganhourtowait,theyatfirstlingeredatarespectfuldistance;butotherscomingup,theymovedcloserinordertoprotecttheirrightofprecedence.TothiscollectionHurstwoodcameupfromthewestoutofSeventhAvenueandstoppedclosetothedoor,nearerthanalltheothers.Thosewhohadbeenwaitingbeforehim,butfartheraway,nowdrewnear,andbyacertainstolidityofdemeanour,nowordsbeingspoken,indicatedthattheywerefirst.

           Seeingtheoppositiontohisaction,helookedsullenlyalongtheline,thenmovedout,takinghisplaceatthefoot.Whenorderhadbeenrestored,theanimalfeelingofoppositionrelaxed.

           “Mustbeprettynearnoon,”venturedone.

           “Itis,”saidanother.“I’vebeenwaitingnearlyanhour.”

           “Gee,butit’scold!”

           Theypeeredeagerlyatthedoor,whereallmustenter.Agrocerymandroveupandcarriedinseveralbasketsofeatables.Thisstartedsomewordsupongrocerymenandthecostoffoodingeneral.

           “Iseemeat’sgoneup,”saidone.

           “Iftherewuzwar,itwouldhelpthiscountryalot.”

           Thelinewasgrowingrapidly.Alreadytherewerefiftyormore,andthoseatthehead,bytheirdemeanour,evidentlycongratulatedthemselvesuponnothavingsolongtowaitasthoseatthefoot.

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