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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