"Patricia A. McKillip - The House on Parchment Street" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

matter? You look like you've seen a ghost."
She swallowed, but her voice came in a whisper. "I think I have."
"Oh. In the cellar?"
"Yes."
Uncle Harold shook his head. "Remind me to investigate that shadow of yours. BruceтАФ"

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He followed Uncle Harold stiffly, the daisies trailing on the stairs. Carol sat a moment longer, staring at
the chill grey flagstone. She got up finally and took the pie into the kitchen.
"Aunt CatherineтАФ"
"Four, five, six," Aunt Catherine said, counting potatoes. "Thank you, CarolтАФjust put it on top of the
stove so it can thaw. Now, will you look in the cupboard by the door and get out the lace tablecloth and
spread it on the round table in the living room. Where
is Bruce? I didn't ask for a whole floral wreath."
"Uncle Harold is putting something on his scratches." She found the tablecloth and carried it to the
living room. She unfolded it and flicked it open so it floated through the air and settled lightly on the
table. She leaned on it, staring down at the delicate endless pattern. "Aunt Catherine," she said softly, "I
saw a man in your cellar with a black hat like a Pilgrim on his head and a sword in his hand, and he
walked into the wall as though it wasn't thereтАж" Her voice sounded small, unconvincing in the quiet
room. The sun picked out the deep tones of mahogany beneath the lace. She rubbed her eyes again with
her fingers, and her shoulders slumped. "Aunt Catherine, I want to go homeтАж ."
"Heavens," Aunt Catherine said behind her, "this room is a wreck." She straightened the pillows on the
couch and picked up sections of the morning newspaper off the rug. Bruce came in, still carrying the
daisies. His face was streaked with white. Aunt Catherine glanced at him.
"What is that all over your face?"
He shrugged irritably. "I don't know. It came out of a tube."
"You look like a zebra."
His mouth twitched into an unwilling smile. "I do, rather. I can't find a vase for these, and I've looked
everywhere."
"There's a blue one in the kitchen."
"Oh, Mum, I can't put them in that. It's too small. There's a symmetry involved тАж I know. There's one in
Dad's study." He went out again. Carol watched him cross the hall. She took a strand of hair and wound
it around her chin. Then she straightened.
"Aunt CatherineтАФ"
There was a hissing sound from the kitchen. "Excuse me, dear," Aunt Catherine said hurriedly. "I think
my potatoes are boiling over."
Carol sighed. She twitched the tablecloth straight. Bruce came back in with a green vase and she said,
"What's symmetry?"
His eyes slid to her face, surprised. He put the flowers on the table and started pulling away the leaves.
He said after a moment, "It's when things balance. When they match one another in proportion. Like this
house. The outside is symmetricalтАФthe windows on one side are in the same position as the other, and
the door is exactly in the middle. Some houses, old ones especially, might have one big window on one
side of the door, and a little one on the other. Like the house is winking one eye. That's not
symmetrical." He began putting the flowers into the vase. She watched them build under his hands into a
white pyramid. Aunt Catherine came back in with plates and silverware in her hands. She pushed the
tablecloth aside and set them down.
"That's lovely, Bruce. Thank you. Now, will you go outside and shake the leaves off the tablecloth. And
then go change your shirt."