"Zenna Henderson - Holding Wonder" - читать интересную книгу автора (Henderson Zenna)

his trading the rat -"

"The pregnant rat," I nodded.

"He did ask me," she said. "Our family uses a sort of telepathy in
emergencies."

"A sort of telepathy-!" My jaw sagged, then tightened. Well, I could play the
game, too. "How interesting!"

Her eyes gleamed. "Interesting aberration, isn't it?" I flushed and she added
hastily. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -to put interpretations into your mouth.
But Vincent did hear-well, maybe `feel' is a better word-the ground squirrel
crying out against being caged. It caught him right where he lives. I think
the block he has in reading is against anything that implies unwilling
compulsion - you know, being held against your will - or prevented-"

Put her in a pumpkin shell, my memory chanted. The three Billy Goats Gruff
were afraid to cross the bridge because-

"The other schools," she went on, "have restricted him to the reading
materials provided for his grade level, and you'd be surprised how many of the
stories-"

"And he did hit the rock with Gene:" She smiled ruefully. "Lifted him bodily
and threw him. A rather liberal interpretation of our family rules. He's been
forbidden to lift any large objects in anger. He considered Gene the lesser of
the two objects.

"You see, Miss Murcer, we do have family characteristics that aren't
exactly-mmm-usual, but Vincent is still just a school child, and we're just
parents, and he likes you much and we do, too. Accept us?"

"I-" I said, trying to blink away my confusion. "I-I-"

"Ay! Ay!" Mrs. Kroginold sighed and, smiling, stood up. "Thank you for not
being loudly insulted by what I've told you. Once a neighbor of ours that I
talked a little too freely to, threatened to sue-so I appreciate. You are so
good for Vincent. Thanks."

She was gone before I could get my wits collected. It had been a little like
being caught in a ductless dust-devil. I hadn't heard the car leave, but when
I looked out, there was one swing still stirring lazily between the motionless
ones, and no one at all in sight on the school grounds.

I closed up the schoolroom and went into the tiny two- roomed teacherage
extension on the back of the school to get my coat and purse. I had lived in
those two tiny rooms for the first two years of my stay at Rinconcillo before
I began to feel the need of more space and more freedom from school.
Occasionally, even now, when I felt too tired to plunge out into the roar of