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

'Four dollars and thirty-five cents,' Jane said, after investigation. 'Dad gave me five dollars at the station. I bought some popcorn andЧwellЧdifferent things.'

'Gee, I'm glad you came when you did.' Beatrice blew out a long breath. Tacitly it was agreed that the prevalent socialism of childhood clubs would apply in this more urgent clubbing together of interests. Jane's small hoard was available not for any individual among them, but for the good of the group. 'We were running out of money,' Beatrice said. 'Granny caught us taking meat out of the icebox and we don't dare any more. But we can get a lot with your money.'

Neither of them thought of the inevitable time when that fund would be exhausted. Four dollars and thirty-five cents seemed fabulous, in that era. And they needn't buy expensive meat, so long as it was raw and bloody.

They walked together down the acacia-shaded street with its occasional leaning palms and drooping pepper-trees. They bought two pounds of hamburger and improvidently squandered twenty cents on sodas.

When they got back to the house, Sunday lethargy had set in. Uncles Simon and James had gone out for cigars, and Uncle

Lew and Bert were reading the papers, while Aunt Bessie crocheted. Grandmother Keaton read 'Young's Magazine', diligently seeking spicy passages. The two girls paused behind the beaded portieres, looking in.

'Come on, kids,' Lew said in his deep, resonant voice. 'Seen the funnies yet? Mutt and Jeff are good. And Spark PlugЧЧЧ'

'Mr. Gibson is good enough for me,' Grandmother Keaton said. 'He's a real artist. His people look like people.'

The door banged open and Uncle James appeared, fat, grinning, obviously happy from several beers. Uncle Simon paced him like a personified conscience.

'At any rate, it's quiet,' he said, turning a sour glance on Jane and Beatrice. 'The children make such a rumpus sometimes I can't hear myself think.'

'Granny,' Beatrice asked, 'where are the kids?'

'In the kitchen, I think, dear. They wanted some water for something.'

'Thanks.' The two girls went out, leaving the room filled with a growing atmosphere of sub-threshold discomfort. The sheep were sensing the wolf among them, but the sheepskin disguise was sufficient. They did not know. . . .

The kids were in the kitchen, busily painting one section of the comics with brushes and water. When you did that, pictures emerged. One page of the newspaper had been chemically treated so that moisture would bring out the various colors, dull pastels, but singularly glamorous, in a class with the Japanese flowers that would bloom in water, and the Chinese paper-shelled almonds that held tiny prizes.

From behind her, Beatrice deftly produced the butcher's package.

'Two pounds,' she said. 'Janie had some money, and Merton's was open this afternoon. I thought we'd better. .. .'

Emily kept on painting diligently. Charles jumped up.

'Are we going up now, huh?'

Jane was uneasy. 'I don't know if I'd better come along. j__'

'I don't want to either,' Bobby said, but that was treason. Charles said Bobby was scared.

'I'm not. It just isn't any fun. I want to play something else.'

'Emily,' Beatrice said softly. 'You don't have to go this time.'

'Yes I do.' Emily looked up at last from her painting. 'I'm not scared.'

'I want to see the lights," Charles said. Beatrice whirled on him.

'You tell such lies, Charles! There aren't any lights.'