Девять рассказов
Uncle Wiggly in Connecticut
ImeanMr.Weyinburg’ssosweet,Ihateto—"
"Callupandsayyouwerekilled.Letgoofthatdamnglass."
"No,honestly,El.Imeanit’sgettingsoterriblyicy.Ihavehardlyanyanti-freezeinthecar.ImeanifIdon’t—"
"Letitfreeze.Gophone.Sayyou’redead,"saidEloise."Gimmethat."
"Well...Where’sthephone?"
"Itwent,"saidEloise,carryingtheemptyglassesandwalkingtowardthediningroom,"—this-a-way."Shestoppedshortonthefloorboardbetweenthelivingroomandthediningroomandexecutedagrindandabump.MaryJanegiggled.
"Imeanyoudidn’treallyknowWalt,"saidEloiseataquarteroffive,lyingonherbackonthefloor,adrinkbalanceduprightonhersmall-breastedchest."HewastheonlyboyIeverknewthatcouldmakemelaugh.Imeanreallylaugh."ShelookedoveratMaryJane."Yourememberthatnight—ourlastyear—whenthatcrazyLouiseHermansonbustedintheroomwearingthatblackbrassieresheboughtinChicago?"
MaryJanegiggled.Shewaslyingonherstomachonthecouch,herchinonthearmrest,facingEloise.Herdrinkwasonthefloor,withinreach.
"Well,hecouldmakemelaughthatway,"Eloisesaid."Hecoulddoitwhenhetalkedtome.Hecoulddoitoverthephone.Hecouldevendoitinaletter.Andthebestthingaboutitwasthathedidn’teventrytobefunny—hejustwasfunny."SheturnedherheadslightlytowardMaryJane."Hey,how’boutthrowingmeacigarette?"
"Ican’treach’em,"MaryJanesaid.
"Nutstoyou."Eloiselookedupattheceilingagain.
