Вино из одуванчиков

           "Books,skates,dolls,everything-they’reyours."

           "Ours?"

           "Onlyyours.Andwillyouhelpmewithalittleworkinthenexthour?I’mbuildingabigfireinmybackyard.I’m;emptyingthetrunks,throwingoutthistrashforthetrash-man.Itdoesn’tbelongtome.Nothingeverbelongstoanybody."

           "We’llhelp,"theysaid.

           Mrs.Bentleyledtheprocessiontothebackyard,armsfull,aboxofmatchesinherhand.

           SotherestofthesummeryoucouldseethetwolittlegirlsandTomlikewrensonawire,onMrs.Bentley’sfrontporch,waiting.Andwhenthesilverychimesoftheiciclemanwereheard,thefrontdooropened,Mrs.Bentleyfloatedoutwithherhanddeepdownthegulletofhersilvermouthedpurse,andforhalfanhouryoucouldseethemthereontheporch,thechildrenandtheoldladyputtingcoldnessintowarmness,eatingchocolateicicles,laughing.Atlasttheyweregoodfriends.

           "Howoldareyou,Mrs.Bentley?"

           "Seventy-two."

           "Howoldwereyoufiftyyearsago?"

           "Seventy-two."

           "Youweren’teveryoung,wereyou,andneverworeribbonsordresseslikethese?"

           "No."

           "Haveyougotafirstname?"

           "MynameisMrs.Bentley."

           "Andyou’vealwayslivedinthisonehouse?"

           "Always."

           "Andneverwerepretty?"

           "Never."

           "Neverinamilliontrillionyears?"Thetwogirlswouldbendtowardtheoldlady,andwaitinthepressedsilenceoffouro’clockonasummerafternoon.

           "Never,"saidMrs.Bentley,"inamilliontrillionyears."

           "Yougotthenickeltabletready,Doug?"

           "Sure."