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

me. I'm all grass-stained."
Carol stood up and walked across the graves. She squatted down beside Miss Emily. "What kind of a
tunnel? Where does it begin?"
"I don't know. Nobody has ever seen it. I heard Mrs. Brewster's father talk of it. Mrs. Brewster has
looked for herself, but she could never find it. So she says it's only a legend; that there's no such thing as
a priest tunnel. But I say: who began the legend? The people who built the tunnel, that's who."
Carol sat down on the grass. "A tunnel," she whispered. "A tunnelтАж . Would it go underneath the
graveyard?"
"Oh, it went right under the church. That's what I've heard. Is that my saucepan?"
"Oh. Yes." She handed it to Miss Emily. "Aunt Catherine says thanks." She sat quietly, wind blowing
the hair across her face. She laughed suddenly, breathlessly, and brushed it away, feeling her fingers
cold against her face. "A tunnel. I wonder if it's still there."
"There's no knowing that," Miss Emily said, searching in the earth for the end of a dandelion root. "It
may have fallen in."
"Maybe. But everything else has lasted." She stood up. Miss Emily looked up at her.
"Would you like some milk and a biscuit, my dear?"
"No thanks. I have to talk to Bruce." She hoisted herself up on the railing and dropped over, and ran
across the street, scarcely seeing the trucks and the drills. She opened the gate. The hedge-clippers were
in the wheelbarrow, and Bruce was nowhere to be seen.
The workers left at four-thirty, and he still had not returned. Uncle Harold and Aunt Catherine drove up
shortly afterward. Carol watched them from her window. They parked at the end of the graveyard to
avoid the work area, and walked half the block. She saw Uncle Harold stop in mid-sentence when he
saw the wheelbarrow, and then she went down to open the door for them.
"Hello, Carol. Where is Bruce?" he said as he came
in.
"I don't know."
"Well. I didn't realize you would have to stay by yourself all day. We should have taken you with us to
see the University."
"I didn't mind. I went for a walk."
"Hello," Bruce said behind them, and they turned. Alexander smiled cheerfully beside him.
"Hello."
Uncle Harold felt for his pipe. His mouth tugged in a smile as he lit it. "Alexander. What have you been
doing with yourself?"

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"Being lazy. I came to take a look at Bruce's bicycle."
"You came on foot?"
"I have a small problem with my back spokes." His slow, calm voice was changeless. "I thought I should
do a bit of walking before I forget how. Tomorrow I might even try running. How's your article?"
"I think I may have to finish it in Edinburgh." He looked at Carol. "How does a couple weeks of
camping in Scotland sound to you?"
no
She sat down on the stairs. "Scotland? I don'tтАФI don't even know what it's like."
"You'll like it," Bruce said. "There are dark green hills, miles of them, with sheep feeding on them, and
the ruins of old stone walls running up and down them. It's beautiful."
"It sounds beautiful. I've never camped before."
"That," Aunt Catherine said, "is a different proposition entirely. You get up in a faint drizzle in the
mornings to drink lukewarm tea, after chasing spiders out of your cold bedтАФ"