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

"Did I miss something? I did, didn't I."
Bruce sighed. He stared at the floor, his shoulders slumped. A shadow fell over his face; a skirt rustled
faint as the wind beyond the thick stones. A blue-eyed girl looked down at him.
"Edward," she said softly. "Come." And the stones she melted through reappeared firm and immovable
behind her.
Carol slid off the table. Father Malory said surprisedly, "Is it over?"
"Yes. They came." She sat down suddenly on the floor, feeling the blood rushing to her face, a heaviness
gathering in her throat. She put her head down on her knees; the first sob scraped her throat like a
hiccup. "I wantedтАФI wanted you to see themтАФ"
"Don't cry. Please don't cry."

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"I feel like it." The tears ran hot to her chin; she rubbed her face against her knees to dry it. "Everything
тАФnothing is going rightтАФyou could have told Uncle Harold you saw them, and thenтАФand then Bruce
wouldn't have to hate the houseтАФand I don't know what to do with two ghosts nobody else can see; I
don't know why they have to be there, and you'll think we're both barmyтАФ"
"I don't think you're barmy," Father Malory said.
"I would if I were you." She felt a touch on her shoulder and lifted her head. Bruce knelt beside her,
holding out a handkerchief. She took it and blew her nose.
"Just because everything is going wrong, that's no reason to give up," Bruce said.
"Well, I don't know what else to do."
"We'll think of what we should do, and then we'll do it. That's the only logical thing to do."
"You don't like thinking logically."
"Well sometimesтАФsometimes it's the only thing left to do. When you only have one thing left to do, you
do it. But I don't think sitting on the floor and crying is going to help."
"Well, running away this morning didn't help any either."
He was silent a moment. "I know." He stood up, looking at Father Malory sitting silently on the table.
"What are you going to do? Tell Dad?"
"No," Father Malory said reflectively. "It's your problem. I expect you'll find a way to solve it. I didn't
see or hear anything unusual. But I did see your faces as you watched, and I have been listening to you,
and I don't blame you for feeling frustrated. I feel a bit left out. I don't know why you should be able to
see something so exciting when I can't. But I can offer one comforting thought: unless the girl had a
habit of wandering about when she was alive in clothes two hundred years out of her time, whoever
painted that picture saw her as a ghost."
"But he didn't paint her in the cellar," Bruce said. "There was an archway. And I can't see any place in
the wall that looks like an arch has been filled up. The
stones look like they've been solid for centuries."
Father Malory nodded, his eyes narrowed, searching the walls. "It is strangeтАж ." He looked at his watch
and stood up. They walked slowly back through the rooms. He stopped at the foot of the steps and said,
"I wonder. Do you suppose that's what Susan saw in the cellar? She saw the girl from the painting walk
through the cellar wall, and then she ran to the study and looked at the painting and had hysterics."
"Poor Susan," Carol said. Bruce looked at her.
"You saw the same thing, and you didn't have hysterics."
"I would have," she said thoughtfully, "if I knew how." She opened the cellar door and peered out. The
rich smell of fried chicken hung in the passage. They came out and closed the door softly, just as Uncle
Harold came out of the study, his pipe in his mouth and paper in his hand.
"CathтАФFather Malory! I didn't know you were here."
тАЬI wasnтАЩt.тАЭ