"Henry Kuttner - Call Him Demon " - читать интересную книгу автора (Kuttner Henry)

But Grandmother Keaton chuckled and stroked Bobby's hair. He had fallen asleep on her lap, his hands curled into small fists, his
cheeks faintly flushed.
Uncle Simon's gaunt figure stood by the window.
He watched through the curtains, and said nothing at all.
'Early to bed,' Aunt Bessie said, 'if we're going to Santa Barbara in the morning, children!"
And that was that.
Chapter 4. End of the Game
BY morning Bobby was running a temperature, and Grandmother Keaton refused to risk his life in Santa Barbara. This made
Bobby very sullen, but solved the problem the children had been wondering about for many hours. Also, a telephone call from
Jane's father said that he was arriving that day to pick up his daughter, and she had a little brother now. Jane, who had no illusions
about the stork, was relieved, and hoped her mother wouldn't be sick any more now.
A conclave was held in Bobby's bedroom before breakfast.
'You know what to do, Bobby,' Beatrice said. 'Promise you'll do it?'
'Promise. Uh-huh.'
'You can do it today, Janie, before your father comes. And you'd better get a lot of meat and leave it for Bobby.'
'I can't buy any meat without money,' Bobby said. Somewhat reluctantly Beatrice counted out what was left of Jane's small hoard,
and handed it over. Bobby stuffed the change under his pillow and pulled at the red flannel wound around his neck.
'It scratches,' he said. 'I'm not sick, anyway.'
'It was those green pears you ate yesterday,' Emily said very meanly. 'You thought nobody saw you, didn't you?'
Charles came in; he had been downstairs. He was breathless.
'Hey, know what happened?' he said. 'He hurt his foot. Now he can't go to Santa Barbara. I bet he did it on purpose.'
'Gosh,' Jane said. 'How?'
'He said he twisted it on the stairs. But I bet it's a lie. He just doesn't want to go.'
'Maybe he can't goтАФthat far,' Beatrice said, with a sudden flash of intuition, and they spoke no more of the subject. But Beatrice,
Emily and Charles were all relieved that the Wrong Uncle was not to go to Santa Barbara with them, after all.
It took two taxis to carry the travelers and their luggage. Grandmother Keaton, the Wrong Uncle, and Jane stood on the front
porch and waved. The automobiles clattered off, and Jane promptly got some money from Bobby and went to the butcher store,
returning heavy-laden.
The Wrong Uncle, leaning on a cane, hobbled into the sun-parlor and lay down. Grandmother Keaton made a repulsive but
healthful drink for Bobby, and Jane decided not to do what she had to do until afternoon. Bobby read 'The Jungle Book,'
stumbling over the hard words, and', for the while, the truce held.
Jane was not to forget that day quickly. The smells were sharply distinct; the odor of baking bread from the kitchen, the sticky-
sweet flower scents from outside, the slightly dusty, rich-brown aroma exhaled by the sun-warmed rugs and furniture.
Grandmother Keaton went up to her bedroom to cold-cream her hands and face, and Jane lounged on the threshold, watching.
It was a charming room, in its comfortable, unimaginative way. The curtains were so stiffly starched that they billowed out in
crisp whiteness, and the bureau was cluttered with fascinating objectsтАФa pin-cushion shaped like a doll, a tiny red china shoe,
with tinier gray china mice on it, a cameo brooch bearing a portrait of Grandmother Keaton as a girl.
And slowly, insistently, the pulse increased, felt even here, in this bedroom, where Jane felt it was a rather impossible intrusion.
Directly after lunch the bell rang, and it was Jane's father, come to take her back to San Francisco. He was in a hurry to catch the
train, and there was time only for a hurried conversation before the two were whisked off in the waiting taxi. But Jane had found
time to run upstairs and say good-by to BobbyтАФ and tell him where the meat was hidden.
'All right, Janie,' Bobby said. 'Good-by.'
She knew she should not have left the job to Bobby. A nagging sense of responsibility haunted her all the way to the railroad
station. She was only vaguely aware of adult voices saying the train would be very late, and of her father suggesting that the
circus was in town. . . .
It was a good circus. She almost forgot Bobby and the crisis that would be mounting so dangerously unless he met it as he had
promised. Early evening was blue as they moved with the crowd out of the tent. And then through a rift Jane saw a small, familiar
figure, and the bottom dropped out of her stomach. She knew.
Mr. Larkin saw Bobby in almost the same instant. He called sharply, and a moment later the two children were looking at one
another, Bobby's plump face sullen.