"Geoff Ryman - Was" - читать интересную книгу автора (Ryman Geoff)

house, holding Dorothy's hand. "We're going to have to tie Toto up,
Dorothy. Just for a while. He can't go inside, or we'll never keep things
clean, and he'll just have to learn not to worry the livestock." Aunty Em
lifted Dorothy up to the level of the front door, and then looked into her
eyes. "Do you understand, Dorothy?"

"Yes, Ma'am," murmured Dorothy, scowling, confused.

"Well, in you go," said Aunty Em, giving Dorothy's hand a rousing shake.
"Let's have some food and get you cleaned up. Henry, please to see to the
dog."

Then Dorothy saw inside the house. "Oh no!" she grizzled. It wasn't nice.
There was only one room, and it was dark, with only one window with no
curtains.

"Guess it isn't St. Louis," said Aunty Em. She flung open the door of an iron
stove, red with rust, and lit two tallow candles. Im-mediately there was a
smell of burned fat.

In the flickering light, Dorothy saw that inside, the walls were made of
thick raw logs. There was a worn throw rug over a wooden floor, and a bare
table and bare chairs; there was a wardrobe and a table with a chipped
china basin and long handles on which towels hung. The chimney and
fireplace occupied one entire side of the room, but were empty and cold.
There was a bed crammed into one corner, and a blanket hung across the
room. On the other side of it was a pile of straw.

Dorothy thought of Toto, who was still under the house. She felt disloyal
being here. She wanted to hide, too, under the house.

Aunty Em took a deep breath and then sighed, a long, high, showy kind of
sigh that she meant Dorothy to hear. She had decided to be nice.

"Well," she said, animated. "What have we got here but some nice stew! I
think there's probably a little child somewhere who has had a very long day.
Maybe she'd like something to eat."
Dorothy was not hungry, but she said, "Yes please, Ma'am."

"What a nicely brought up little child she is," said Aunty Em, still piping.

"Can Toto have some too?"

Aunty Em managed to chuckle. "Heh," she said. "This is people stew,
Dorothy. We got special food for dogs."

Aunty Em passed her the stew. It was brown, in a brown cracked bowl.
Aunty Em leaned over to peer, grinning, into Dorothy's face as she took a
spoonful.