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- Стр. 19/57
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Some
people
can
never
allow
events
to
work
themselves
out
quietly
.
At
this
juncture
one
of
Them
swooped
down
on
the
scene
,
pouring
shrill
,
misplaced
abuse
on
both
of
us
:
on
me
for
ill
-
treating
my
younger
brother
,
whereas
it
was
distinctly
I
who
was
the
injured
and
the
deceived
;
on
him
for
the
high
offence
of
assault
and
battery
on
a
clean
collar
—
a
collar
which
I
had
myself
deflowered
and
defaced
,
shortly
before
,
in
sheer
desperate
ill
-
temper
.
Disgusted
and
defiant
we
fled
in
different
directions
,
rejoining
each
other
later
in
the
kitchen
-
garden
;
and
as
we
strolled
along
together
,
our
short
feud
forgotten
,
Harold
observed
,
gloomily
:
“
I
should
like
to
be
a
cave
-
man
,
like
Uncle
George
was
tellin
’
us
about
:
with
a
flint
hatchet
and
no
clothes
,
and
live
in
a
cave
and
not
know
anybody
!
”
“
And
if
anyone
came
to
see
us
we
didn
’
t
like
,
”
I
joined
in
,
catching
on
to
the
points
of
the
idea
,
“
we
’
d
hit
him
on
the
head
with
the
hatchet
till
he
dropped
down
dead
.
”
“
And
then
,
”
said
Harold
,
warming
up
,
“
we
’
d
drag
him
into
the
cave
and
SKIN
HIM
!
”
For
a
space
we
gloated
silently
over
the
fair
scene
our
imaginations
had
conjured
up
.
It
was
BLOOD
we
felt
the
need
of
just
then
.
We
wanted
no
luxuries
,
nothing
dear
-
bought
nor
far
-
fetched
.
Just
plain
blood
,
and
nothing
else
,
and
plenty
of
it
.
Blood
,
however
,
was
not
to
be
had
.
The
time
was
out
of
joint
,
and
we
had
been
born
too
late
.
So
we
went
off
to
the
greenhouse
,
crawled
into
the
heating
arrangement
underneath
,
and
played
at
the
dark
and
dirty
and
unrestricted
life
of
cave
-
men
till
we
were
heartily
sick
of
it
.
Then
we
emerged
once
more
into
historic
times
,
and
went
off
to
the
road
to
look
for
something
living
and
sentient
to
throw
stones
at
.
Nature
,
so
often
a
cheerful
ally
,
sometimes
sulks
and
refuses
to
play
.
When
in
this
mood
she
passes
the
word
to
her
underlings
,
and
all
the
little
people
of
fur
and
feather
take
the
hint
and
slip
home
quietly
by
back
streets
.
In
vain
we
scouted
,
lurked
,
crept
,
and
ambuscaded
.
Everything
that
usually
scurried
,
hopped
,
or
fluttered
—
the
small
society
of
the
undergrowth
—
seemed
to
have
engagements
elsewhere
.
The
horrid
thought
that
perhaps
they
had
all
gone
off
to
the
circus
occurred
to
us
simultaneously
,
and
we
humped
ourselves
up
on
the
fence
and
felt
bad
.
Even
the
sound
of
approaching
wheels
failed
to
stir
any
interest
in
us
.
When
you
are
bent
on
throwing
stones
at
something
,
humanity
seems
obtrusive
and
better
away
.
Then
suddenly
we
both
jumped
off
the
fence
together
,
our
faces
clearing
.
For
our
educated
ear
had
told
us
that
the
approaching
rattle
could
only
proceed
from
a
dog
-
cart
,
and
we
felt
sure
it
must
be
the
funny
man
.
We
called
him
the
funny
man
because
he
was
sad
and
serious
,
and
said
little
,
but
gazed
right
into
our
souls
,
and
made
us
tell
him
just
what
was
on
our
minds
at
the
time
,
and
then
came
out
with
some
magnificently
luminous
suggestion
that
cleared
every
cloud
away
.
What
was
more
he
would
then
go
off
with
us
at
once
and
play
the
thing
right
out
to
its
finish
,
earnestly
and
devotedly
,
putting
all
other
things
aside
.
So
we
called
him
the
funny
man
,
meaning
only
that
he
was
different
from
those
others
who
thought
it
incumbent
on
them
to
play
the
painful
mummer
.
The
ideal
as
opposed
to
the
real
man
was
what
we
meant
,
only
we
were
not
acquainted
with
the
phrase
.
Those
others
,
with
their
laboured
jests
and
clumsy
contortions
,
doubtless
flattered
themselves
that
THEY
were
funny
men
;
we
,
who
had
to
sit
through
and
applaud
the
painful
performance
,
knew
better
.
He
pulled
up
to
a
walk
as
soon
as
he
caught
sight
of
us
,
and
the
dog
-
cart
crawled
slowly
along
till
it
stopped
just
opposite
.
Then
he
leant
his
chin
on
his
hand
and
regarded
us
long
and
soulfully
,
yet
said
he
never
a
word
;
while
we
jigged
up
and
down
in
the
dust
,
grinning
bashfully
but
with
expectation
.
For
you
never
knew
exactly
what
this
man
might
say
or
do
.
