Вино из одуванчиков

           "IjustdroppedalittlebittyhunkoficedownTom’sback,isall."

           Thecourthouseclockchimedseventimes.Theechoesofthechimesfaded.

           WarmsummertwilighthereinupperIllinoiscountryinthislittletowndeepfarawayfromeverything,kepttoitselfbyariverandaforestandameadowandalake.Thesidewalksstillscorched.Thestoresclosingandthestreetsshad-:owed.Andthereweretwomoons;theclockmoonwithfour’facesinfournightdirectionsabovethesolemnblackcourthouse,andtherealmoonrisinginvanillawhitenessfromthedarkeast.

           Inthedrugstorefanswhisperedinthehighceiling.Intherococoshadeofporches,afewinvisiblepeoplesat.Cigarsglowedpink,onoccasion.Screendoorswhinedtheirspringsandslammed.Onthepurplebricksofthesummer-nightstreets,DouglasSpauldingran;dogsandboysfollowedafter.

           "Hi,MissLavinia!"

           Theboyslopedaway.Wavingafterthemquietly,LaviniaNebbssatallalonewithatallcoollemonadeinherwhiteIfingers,tappingittoherlips,sipping,waiting.

           "HereIam,Lavinia."

           SheturnedandtherewasFrancine,allinsnowwhite,atthebottomstepsoftheporch,inthesmellofzinniasandhibiscus.

           LaviniaNebbslockedherfrontdoorand,leavingherlemonadeglasshalfemptyontheporch,said,"It’safinenightforthemovie."

           Theywalkeddownthestreet.

           "Whereyougoing,girls?"criedMissFernandMissRobertafromtheirporchovertheway.