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- Джон Стейнбек
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The
preacher
said
,
"
She
’
ll
just
fret
if
she
don
’
t
.
"
"
Think
he
’
s
awright
?
"
Ma
asked
.
Casy
shook
his
head
slowly
.
Ma
looked
quickly
down
at
the
struggling
old
face
with
blood
pounding
through
it
.
She
drew
outside
and
her
voice
came
through
.
"
He
’
s
awright
,
Granma
.
He
’
s
jus
’
takin
’
a
little
res
’
.
"
And
Granma
answered
sulkily
,
"
Well
,
I
want
ta
see
him
.
He
’
s
a
tricky
devil
.
He
wouldn
’
t
never
let
ya
know
.
"
And
she
came
scurrying
through
the
flaps
.
She
stood
over
the
mattresses
and
looked
down
.
"
What
’
s
the
matter
’
th
you
?
"
she
demanded
of
Grampa
.
And
again
his
eyes
reached
toward
her
voice
and
his
lips
writhed
.
"
He
’
s
sulkin
’
,
"
said
Granma
.
"
I
tol
’
you
he
was
tricky
.
He
was
gonna
sneak
away
this
mornin
’
so
he
wouldn
’
t
have
to
come
.
An
’
then
his
hip
got
a
-
hurtin
’
,
"
she
said
disgustedly
.
"
He
’
s
jus
’
sulkin
’
.
I
seen
him
when
he
wouldn
’
t
talk
to
nobody
before
.
"
Casy
said
gently
,
"
He
ain
’
t
sulkin
’
,
Granma
.
He
’
s
sick
.
"
"
Oh
!
"
She
looked
down
at
the
old
man
again
.
"
Sick
bad
,
you
think
?
"
"
Purty
bad
,
Granma
.
"
For
a
moment
she
hesitated
uncertainly
.
"
Well
,
"
she
said
quickly
,
"
why
ain
’
t
you
prayin
’
?
You
’
re
a
preacher
,
ain
’
t
you
?
"
Casy
’
s
strong
fingers
blundered
over
to
Grampa
’
s
wrist
and
clasped
around
it
.
"
I
tol
’
you
,
Granma
.
I
ain
’
t
a
preacher
no
more
.
"
