О мышах и людях
Lenniewasjustfinishingmakinghisbed.Thewoodenlatchraisedagainandthedooropened.Alittlestockymanstoodintheopendoorway.Heworebluejeantrousers,aflannelshirt,ablack,unbuttonedvestandablackcoat.Histhumbswerestuckinhisbelt,oneachsideofasquaresteelbuckle.OnhisheadwasasoiledbrownStetsonhat,andheworehigh-heeledbootsandspurstoprovehewasnotalaboringman.
Theoldswamperlookedquicklyathim,andthenshuffledtothedoorrubbinghiswhiskerswithhisknucklesashewent.«Themguysjustcome,"hesaid,andshuffledpastthebossandoutthedoor.
Thebosssteppedintotheroomwiththeshort,quickstepsofafat-leggedman.«IwroteMurrayandReadyIwantedtwomenthismorning.Yougotyourworkslips?»Georgereachedintohispocketandproducedtheslipsandhandedthemtotheboss.«Itwasn’tMurrayandReady’sfault.Saysrighthereontheslipthatyouwastobehereforworkthismorning.»
Georgelookeddownathisfeet.«Busdrivergiveusabumsteer,"hesaid.«Wehaddawalktenmiles.Sayswewasherewhenwewasn’t.Wecouldn’tgetnoridesinthemorning.»
Thebosssquintedhiseyes.«Well,Ihadtosendoutthegrainteamsshorttwobuckers.Won’tdoanygoodtogooutnowtillafterdinner.»Hepulledhistimebookoutofhispocketandopeneditwhereapencilwasstuckbetweentheleaves.GeorgescowledmeaningfullyatLennie,andLennienoddedtoshowthatheunderstood.Thebosslickedhispencil.«What’syourname?»
«GeorgeMilton.»
«Andwhat’syours?»
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