Дні мрій
Mutabile Semper
“I’vebeengardening,”sheexplained,whenshehadjoinedme,“butIdidn’tlikeit.There’ssomanywormsaboutto-day.Ihateworms.Wishthey’dkeepoutofthewaywhenI’mdigging.”
“Oh,IlikewormswhenI’mdigging,”Irepliedheartily,“seemtomakethingsmorelively,don’tthey?”
Shereflected.“Shouldn’tmind’emsomuchiftheywerewarmandDRY,”shesaid,“but—”heresheshivered,andsomehowIlikedherforit,thoughifithadbeenmyownfleshandbloodhootsofderisionwouldhaveinstantlyassailedher.
Fromwormswepassed,naturallyenough,tofrogs,andthencetopigs,aunts,gardeners,rocking-horses,andotherfellow-citizensofourcommonkingdom.Infiveminuteswehadeachother’sconfidences,andIseemedtohaveknownherforalifetime.Somehow,onthesubjectofone’sselfitwaseasiertobefrankandcommunicativewithherthanwithone’sfemalekin.Itmustbe,Isupposed,becauseshewaslessfamiliarwithone’sfaulty,tatteredpast.
“Iwaswatchingyouasyoucamealongtheroad,”shesaidpresently,“andyouhadyourheaddownandyourhandsinyourpockets,andyouweren’tthrowingstonesatanything,orwhistling,orjumpingoverthings;andIthoughtperhapsyou’dbinscolded,orgotastomach-ache.”
“No,”Iansweredshyly,“itwasn’tthat.Factis,Iwas—Ioften—butit’sasecret.”
ThereImadeanerrorintactics.Thatenkindlingwordsetherdancingroundme,halfbeseeching,halfimperious.“Oh,dotellitme!”shecried.
