Над пропастью во ржи

           Whatmadeitevenmoredepressing, oldSpencerhadonthisverysad, rattyoldbathrobe thathewasprobablyborninorsomething. Idon’tmuchliketoseeoldguysintheirpajamasandbathrobesanyway. Theirbumpyoldchestsarealwaysshowing. Andtheirlegs. Oldguys’legs,atbeachesandplaces,alwayslooksowhiteandunhairy. 

           "Hello,sir,"Isaid. "Igotyournote. Thanksalot." He’dwrittenmethisnoteaskingmetostopbyandsaygood-bybeforevacationstarted, onaccountofIwasn’tcomingback. 

           "Youdidn’thavetodoallthat. I’dhavecomeovertosaygood-byanyway. 

           "Haveaseatthere,boy,"oldSpencersaid. Hemeantthebed. 

           Isatdownonit. "How’syourgrippe,sir?" 

           "M’boy,ifIfeltanybetterI’dhavetosendforthedoctor,"oldSpencersaid. Thatknockedhimout. Hestartedchucklinglikeamadman. Thenhefinallystraightenedhimselfoutandsaid, "Whyaren’tyoudownatthegame?Ithoughtthiswasthedayofthebiggame." 

           "Itis.Iwas.Only,IjustgotbackfromNewYorkwiththefencingteam,"Isaid. Boy,hisbedwaslikearock. 

           Hestartedgettingseriousashell. Iknewhewould. "Soyou’releavingus,eh?"hesaid. 

           "Yes,sir.IguessIam." 

           Hestartedgoingintothisnoddingroutine. YouneversawanybodynodasmuchinyourlifeasoldSpencerdid.