Гроздья гнева
Chapter 8
Hetouchedhisbreast.
Shemovedtowardhimlithely,soundlesslyinherbarefeet,andherfacewasfullofwonder.Hersmallhandfelthisarm,feltthesoundnessofhismuscles.Andthenherfingerswentuptohischeekasablindman’sfingersmight.Andherjoywasnearlylikesorrow.Tompulledhisunderlipbetweenhisteethandbitit.Hereyeswentwonderinglytohisbittenlip,andshesawthelittlelineofbloodagainsthisteethandthetrickleofblooddownhislip.Thensheknew,andhercontrolcameback,andherhanddropped.Herbreathcameoutexplosively."Well!"shecried."Wecomemightyneartogoin’withoutya.An’wewaswonderin’howintheworl’youcouldeverfindus."Shepickeduptheforkandcombedtheboilinggreaseandbroughtoutadarkcurlofcrisppork.Andshesetthepotoftumblingcoffeeonthebackofthestove.
OldTomgiggled,"Fooledya,huh,Ma?Weaimedtofoolya,andwedoneit.Jus’stoodtherelikeahammeredsheep.WishtGrampa’dbeenheretosee.Lookedlikesomebody’dbeatyabetweentheeyeswithasledge.Grampawouldawhacked’imselfsohardhe’dathrowedhishipout—likehedonewhenheseenAltakeashotatthatgrea’bigairshipthearmygot.Tommy,itcomeoveroneday,halfamilebig,an’Algetsthethirty-thirtyandblazesawayather.Grampayells,’Don’tshootnofledglin’s,Al;waittillagrowed-uponegoesover,’an’thenhewhacked’imselfan’throwedhishipout."
Machuckledandtookdownaheapoftinplatesfromashelf.
