Вино из одуванчиков

           Hestoodbythecotandleanedoverandspokequietly."Whenyou’redrinkingthese,remember:Itwasbottledbyafriend.TheS.J.JonasBottlingCompany,GreenTown,Illinois—August,1928.Avintageyear,boy...avintageyear."

           Amomentlatertherewasthesoundofreinsslappingthebackofthehorseinthemoonlight,andtherumbleofthewagondownthestreetandaway.

           AfteramomentDouglas’seyestwitchedand,veryslowly,opened.

           "Mother!"whisperedTom."Dad!Doug,it’sDoug!He’sgoingtobewell.Ijustwentdowntocheckandcomeon!"

           Tomranoutofthehouse.Hisparentsfollowed.

           Douglaswasasleepastheyapproached.Tommotionedtohisparents,smilingwildly.Theybentoverthecot.

           Asingleexhalation,apause,asingleexhalation,apause,asthethreebentthere.

           Douglas’smouthwasslightlyopenandfromhislipsandfromthethinventsofhisnostrils,gentlythereroseascentofcoolnightandcoolwaterandcoolwhitesnowandcoolgreenmoss,andcoolmoonlightonsilverpebbleslyingatthebottomofaquietriverandcoolclearwateratthebottomofasmallwhitestonewell.

           Itwaslikeholdingtheirheadsdownforabriefmomenttothepulseofanapple-scentedfountainflowingcoolupintotheairandwashingtheirfaces.

           Theycouldnotmoveforalongtime.

           Thenextmorningwasamorningofnocaterpillars.Theworldthathadbeenfulltoburstingwithtinybundlesofblackandbrownfurtrundlingontheirwaytogreenleafandtremulousgrassblade,wassuddenlyempty.