"Kelly, Myra - A Christmas Present for a Lady" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kelly Myra)

and, truly, God pity him! he is passing smallЧ "It ain't for boysЧ it's for
ladies. Over yesterday on the night comes my papa on my house, and he gives my
mama the present. Sooner she looks on it, sooner she has a awful glad; in her
eye stands tears, und she says, like thatЧ out of JewishЧ `Thanks,' un' she
kisses my papa. a kiss. Und my papa, how he is polite! he saysЧ out of Jewish,
tooЧ `You're welcome, all right,' un' he kisses my mama a kiss. So my mama, she
sets and looks on the present, und all the time she looks she has a glad over
it. Und I didn't to have no soap, so you could to have the present."
"But did your mother say I might?"
"Teacher, no ma'am; she didn't say like that un' she didn't to say not like
that: She didn't to know. But it's for ladies, un' I didn't to have no soap. You
could to look on it. It ain't for boys."
And here Morris opens a hot little hand and discloses a tightly-folded pinkish
paper. As Teacher reads it he watches her with eager, furtive eyes, dry and
bright, until hers grow suddenly moist, when his promptly follow suit. As she
looks down at him, he makes his moan once more:
"It's for ladies, und I didn't to have no soap."
"But, Morris, dear," cries Teacher unsteadily, laughing a little, and yet not
far from tears, "this is ever so much nicer than soapЧ a thousand times better
than perfume; and you're quite right, it is for ladies, and I never had one in
all my life before. I am so very thankful."
"You're welcome, all right. That's how my papa says; it's polite," says Morris
proudly. And proudly he takes his place among the very little boys, and loudly
he joins in the ensuing song. For the rest of that exciting day he is a shining
point of virtue in a slightly confused class. And at three o'clock he is at
Teacher's desk again, carrying on the conversation as if there had been no
interruption.
"Und my mama," he says insinuatinglyЧ "she kisses my papa a kiss."
"Well?" says Teacher.
"Well," says Morris, "you ain't never kissed me a kiss, und I seen how you
kissed Eva Gonorowsky. I'm loving mit you too. Why don't you never kiss me a
kiss?"
"Perhaps," suggests Teacher mischievously, "perhaps it ain't for boys."
But a glance at her "light face," with its crown of surprising combs, reassures
him.
"Teacher, yis, ma'am; it's for boys," he cries as he feels her arms about him,
and sees that in her eyes, too, "stands tears."
"It's polite you kisses me a kiss over that for ladies' present."
Late that night Teacher sat in her pretty roomЧ for she was, unofficially, a
great pampered young personЧ and reviewed her treasures. She saw that they were
very numerous, very touching, very whimsical, and very precious. But above all
the rest she cherished a frayed pinkish paper, rather crumpled and a little
soiled. For it held the love of a man and woman and a little child, and the
magic of a home, for Morris Mogilewsky's Christmas present for ladies was the
receipt for a month's rent for a room on the top floor of a Monroe Street
tenement.