"Clifford D.Simak. All the traps of Earth" - читать интересную книгу автора

light.

He knelt on the floor and pried up the loosened board, shoved in a hand
and brought out the stacks of bills, money hidden through the years against
a day of need.

There were three stacks of bills, neatly held together by elastic bands
- money given him throughout the years as tips and Christmas gifts, as
birthday presents and rewards for little jobs well done.

He opened the storage compartment located in his chest and stowed away
all the bills except for half a dozen which he stuffed into a pocket in one
hip.

He took the trousers off the hook and it was an awkward business, for
he'd never worn clothes before except when he'd tried on these very trousers
several days before. It was a lucky thing, he thought, that long-dead Uncle
Michael had been a portly man, for otherwise the trousers never would have
fit.

He got them on and zippered and belted into place, then forced his feet
into the overshoes. He was a little worried about the overshoes. No human
went out in the summer wearing overshoes. But it was the best that he could
do. None of the regular shoes he'd found in the house had been nearly large
enough.

He hoped no one would notice, but there was no way out of it. Somehow or
other, he had to cover up his feet, for if anyone should see them, they'd be
a giveaway.

He put on the cloak and it was a little short. He put on the hat and it
was slightly small, but he tugged it down until it gripped his metal skull
and that was all to the good, he told himself; no wind could blow it off.

He picked up his attachments - a whole bag full of them that he'd almost
never used. Maybe it was foolish to take them along, he thought, but they
were a part of him and by rights they should go with him. There was so
little that he really owned - just the money he had saved, a dollar at a
time, and this kit of his.

With the bag of attachments clutched underneath his arm, he closed the
cubby door and went down the hall.

At the big front door he hesitated and turned back toward the house, but
it was, at the moment, a simple darkened cave, empty of all that it once had
held. There was nothing here to stay for - nothing but the memories, and the
memories he took with him.

He opened the door and stepped out on the stoop and closed the door
behind him.