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- Джон Стейнбек
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- Гроздья гнева
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Granma
said
proudly
,
"
A
wicketer
,
cussin
’
er
man
never
lived
.
He
’
s
goin
’
to
hell
on
a
poker
,
praise
Gawd
!
Wants
to
drive
the
truck
!
"
she
said
spitefully
.
"
Well
,
he
ain
’
t
goin
’
ta
.
"
Grampa
choked
,
and
a
mouthful
of
paste
sprayed
into
his
lap
,
and
he
coughed
weakly
.
Granma
smiled
up
at
Tom
.
"
Messy
,
ain
’
t
he
?
"
she
observed
brightly
.
Noah
stood
on
the
step
,
and
he
faced
Tom
,
and
his
wide
-
set
eyes
seemed
to
look
around
him
.
His
face
had
little
expression
.
Tom
said
,
"
How
ya
,
Noah
?
"
"
Fine
,
"
said
Noah
.
"
How
a
’
you
?
"
That
was
all
,
but
it
was
a
comfortable
thing
.
Ma
waved
the
flies
away
from
the
bowl
of
gravy
.
"
We
ain
’
t
got
room
to
set
down
,
"
she
said
.
"
Jus
’
get
yaself
a
plate
an
’
set
down
wherever
ya
can
.
Out
in
the
yard
or
someplace
.
"
Suddenly
Tom
said
,
"
Hey
!
Where
’
s
the
preacher
?
He
was
right
here
.
Where
’
d
he
go
?
"
Pa
said
,
"
I
seen
him
,
but
he
’
s
gone
.
"
And
Granma
raised
a
shrill
voice
,
"
Preacher
?
You
got
a
preacher
?
Go
git
him
.
We
’
ll
have
a
grace
.
"
She
pointed
at
Grampa
.
"
Too
late
for
him
—
he
’
s
et
.
Go
git
the
preacher
.
"
Tom
stepped
out
on
the
porch
.
"
Hey
,
Jim
!
Jim
Casy
!
"
he
called
.
He
walked
out
in
the
yard
.
"
Oh
,
Casy
!
"
The
preacher
emerged
from
under
the
tank
,
sat
up
,
and
then
stood
up
and
moved
toward
the
house
.
Tom
asked
,
"
What
was
you
doin
’
,
hidin
’
?
"
