Вино из одуванчиков

           Hewaitedforhismindtorushhome—itmustbeheretoanswerquestions,actsane,bepolite.

           "I’vecometocheckyourpulse."

           "Notnow!"saidtheoldman.

           "You’renotgoinganywhere,areyou?"Shesmiled.

           Helookedatthenursesteadily.Hehadn’tbeenanywhereintenyears.

           "Givemeyourwrist."

           Herfingers,hardandprecise,searchedforthesicknessinhispulselikeapairofcalipers.

           "What’veyoubeendoingtoexciteyourself?"shedemanded.

           "Nothing."

           Hergazeshiftedandstoppedontheemptyphonetable.Atthatinstantahornsoundedfaintly,twothousandmilesaway.

           Shetookthereceiverfromunderthelaprobeandhelditbeforehisface."Whydoyoudothistoyourself?Youpromisedyouwouldn’t.That’showyouhurtyourselfinthefirstplace,isn’tit?Gettingexcited,talkingtoomuch.Thoseboysupherejumpingaround—"

           "Theysatquietlyandlistened,"saidthecolonel."AndItoldthemthingsthey’dneverheard.Thebuffalo,Itoldthem,thebison.Itwasworthit.Idon’tcare.IwasinapurefeverandIwasalive.Itdoesn’tmatterifbeingsoalivekillsaman;it’sbettertohavethequickfevereverytime.Nowgivemethatphone.Ifyouwon’tlettheboyscomeupandsitpolitelyIcanatleasttalktosomeoneoutsidetheroom."

           "I’msorry,Colonel.Yourgrandsonwillhavetoknowaboutthis.Ipreventedhishavingthephonetakenoutlastweek.NowitlookslikeI’lllethimgoahead.

           "Thisismyhouse,myphone.Ipayyoursalary!"hesaid.