Дні мрій
The Reluctant Dragon
“Here,I’mcomingalongwithyou,”saidthecircus-man.“Iwantanotherpipe,andawalk’lldomegood.Youneedn’ttalktomeunlessyoulike.”
Ourspiritsrosetotheirwontedlevelagain.Thewayhadseemedsolong,theoutsideworldsodarkandeerie,afterthebrightwarmroomandthehighly-colouredbeast-book.ButawalkwitharealMan—why,thatwasatreatinitself!Wesetoffbriskly,theManinthemiddle.IlookedupathimandwonderedwhetherIshouldeverlivetosmokeabigpipewiththatcarelesssortofmajesty!ButCharlotte,whoseyoungmindwasnotsetontobaccoasapossiblegoal,madeherselfheardfromtheotherside.
“Now,then,”shesaid,“tellusastory,please,won’tyou?”
TheMansighedheavilyandlookedabouthim.“Iknewit,”hegroaned.“IKNEWIshouldhavetotellastory.Oh,whydidIleavemypleasantfireside?Well,IWILLtellyouastory.Onlyletmethinkaminute.”
Sohethoughtaminute,andthenhetoldusthisstory.
Longago—mighthavebeenhundredsofyearsago—inacottagehalf-waybetweenthisvillageandyondershoulderoftheDownsupthere,ashepherdlivedwithhiswifeandtheirlittleson.Nowtheshepherdspenthisdays—andatcertaintimesoftheyearhisnightstoo—uponthewideocean-bosomoftheDowns,withonlythesunandthestarsandthesheepforcompany,andthefriendlychatteringworldofmenandwomenfaroutofsightandhearing.
