"Mansfield, Katherine - The Garden Party" - читать интересную книгу автора (Mansfield Katherine)

shallow puddles; the same soaking bushes showed on either side and the same
shadowy palings. Then something immense came into view; an enormous shock-
haired giant with his arms stretched out. It was the big gum-tree outside
Mrs. Stubbs' shop, and as they passed by there was a strong whiff of
eucalyptus. And now big spots of light gleamed in the mist. The shepherd
stopped whistling; he rubbed his red nose and wet beard on his wet sleeve
and, screwing up his eyes, glanced in the direction of the sea. The sun
was rising. It was marvellous how quickly the mist thinned, sped away,
dissolved from the shallow plain, rolled up from the bush and was gone as
if in a hurry to escape; big twists and curls jostled and shouldered each
other as the silvery beams broadened. The far-away sky--a bright, pure
blue--was reflected in the puddles, and the drops, swimming along the
telegraph poles, flashed into points of light. Now the leaping, glittering
sea was so bright it made one's eyes ache to look at it. The shepherd drew
a pipe, the bowl as small as an acorn, out of his breast pocket, fumbled
for a chunk of speckled tobacco, pared off a few shavings and stuffed the
bowl. He was a grave, fine-looking old man. As he lit up and the blue
smoke wreathed his head, the dog, watching, looked proud of him.

"Baa! Baaa!" The sheep spread out into a fan. They were just clear of
the summer colony before the first sleeper turned over and lifted a drowsy
head; their cry sounded in the dreams of little children...who lifted their
arms to drag down, to cuddle the darling little woolly lambs of sleep.
Then the first inhabitant appeared; it was the Burnells' cat Florrie,
sitting on the gatepost, far too early as usual, looking for their milk-
girl. When she saw the old sheep-dog she sprang up quickly, arched her
back, drew in her tabby head, and seemed to give a little fastidious
shiver. "Ugh! What a coarse, revolting creature!" said Florrie. But the
old sheep-dog, not looking up, waggled past, flinging out his legs from
side to side. Only one of his ears twitched to prove that he saw, and
thought her a silly young female.

The breeze of morning lifted in the bush and the smell of leaves and wet
black earth mingled with the sharp smell of the sea. Myriads of birds were
singing. A goldfinch flew over the shepherd's head and, perching on the
tiptop of a spray, it turned to the sun, ruffling its small breast
feathers. And now they had passed the fisherman's hut, passed the charred-
looking little whare where Leila the milk-girl lived with her old Gran.
The sheep strayed over a yellow swamp and Wag, the sheep-dog, padded after,
rounded them up and headed them for the steeper, narrower rocky pass that
led out of Crescent Bay and towards Daylight Cove. "Baa! Baa!" Faint the
cry came as they rocked along the fast-drying road. The shepherd put away
his pipe, dropping it into his breast-pocket so that the little bowl hung
over. And straightway the soft airy whistling began again. Wag ran out
along a ledge of rock after something that smelled, and ran back again
disgusted. Then pushing, nudging, hurrying, the sheep rounded the bend and
the shepherd followed after out of sight.


Chapter 1.II.