Дні мрій
A Departure
Adreamyspectator,IstoodidlybywhileHaroldproppedupthelidandthetwoplungedintheirarmsandprobedandfeltandgrappled.
“Here’sRosa,”saidHarold,suddenly.“Iknowthefeelofherhair.WillyouhaveRosaout?”
“Oh,givemeRosa!”criedCharlottewithasortofgasp.AndwhenRosahadbeendraggedforth,quiteunmovedapparently,placidaseverinhermoonfacedcontemplationofthiscomedy-worldwithitsupsanddowns,Charlotteretiredwithhertothewindow-seat,andthereinthemoonlightthetwoexchangedtheirprivateconfidences,leavingHaroldtohisexplorationalone.
“Here’ssomethingwithsharpcorners,”saidHarold,presently.“MustbeLeotard,Ithink.BetterletHIMgo.”
“Oh,yes,wecan’tsaveLeotard,”assentedCharlotte,limply.
PooroldLeotard!Isaidnothing,ofcourse;Iwasnotoninthispiece.But,surely,hadLeotardheardandrightlyunderstoodallthatwasgoingonabovehim,hemusthavesentuponefeeble,strangledcry,onefaintappealtoberescuedfromunfamiliarlittleAnniesandretainedforanaudiencecertaintoappreciateandneverundulycritical.
“NowI’vegottotheNoah’sArk,”pantedHarold,stillgropingblindly.
“Tryandshovethelidbackabit,”saidCharlotte,“andpulloutadoveorazebraoragiraffeifthere’sonehandy.”
Haroldtoiledonwithgruntsandcontortions,andpresentlyproducedintriumphasmallgreyelephantandalargebeetlewitharedstomach.
“They’rejammedintootight,”hecomplained.“Can’tgetanymoreout.
