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- Колин Маккалоу
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- Стр. 19/535
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As
yet
the
town
possessed
no
garage
,
horseless
carriages
being
limited
to
a
very
few
,
but
there
was
a
blacksmith
's
barn
near
the
Masonic
hall
,
with
a
stable
behind
it
and
a
gasoline
pump
standing
stiffly
next
to
the
horse
trough
.
The
only
edifice
in
the
entire
settlement
which
really
caught
the
eye
was
a
peculiar
bright-blue
shop
,
very
un-British
;
every
other
building
was
painted
a
sober
brown
.
The
public
school
and
the
Church
of
England
stood
side
by
side
,
just
opposite
the
Sacred
Heart
Church
and
parish
school
.
As
the
Clearys
hurried
past
the
general
store
the
Catholic
bell
sounded
,
followed
by
the
heavier
tolling
of
the
big
bell
on
a
post
in
front
of
the
public
school
.
Bob
broke
into
a
trot
,
and
they
entered
the
gravel
yard
as
some
fifty
children
were
lining
up
in
front
of
a
diminutive
nun
wielding
a
willowy
stick
taller
than
she
was
.
The
Sacred
Heart
convent
was
two-storied
,
but
because
it
stood
well
back
from
the
road
behind
a
fence
,
the
fact
was
not
easily
apparent
.
The
three
nuns
of
the
Order
of
the
Sisters
of
Mercy
who
staffed
it
lived
upstairs
with
a
fourth
nun
,
who
acted
as
housekeeper
and
was
never
seen
;
downstairs
were
the
three
big
rooms
in
which
school
was
taught
.
A
wide
,
shady
veranda
ran
all
the
way
around
the
rectangular
building
,
where
on
rainy
days
the
children
were
allowed
to
sit
decorously
during
their
play
and
lunch
breaks
,
and
where
on
sunny
days
no
child
was
permitted
to
set
foot
.
Several
large
fig
trees
shaded
a
part
of
the
spacious
grounds
,
and
behind
the
school
the
land
sloped
away
a
little
to
a
grassy
circle
euphemistically
christened
"
the
cricket
pitch
,
"
from
the
chief
activity
that
went
on
in
that
area
.
Ignoring
muffled
sniggers
from
the
lined-up
children
,
Bob
and
his
brothers
stood
perfectly
still
while
the
pupils
marched
inside
to
the
sound
of
Sister
Catherine
plunking
"
Faith
of
Our
Fathers
"
on
the
tinny
school
piano
.
Only
when
the
last
child
had
disappeared
did
Sister
Agatha
break
her
rigid
pose
;
heavy
serge
skirts
swishing
the
gravel
aside
imperiously
,
she
strode
to
where
the
Clearys
waited
.
Meggie
gaped
at
her
,
never
having
seen
a
nun
before
.
The
sight
was
truly
extraordinary
;
three
dabs
of
person
,
which
were
Sister
Agatha
's
face
and
hands
,
the
rest
white
starched
wimple
and
bib
glaring
against
layers
of
blackest
black
,
with
a
massive
rope
of
wooden
rosary
beads
dangling
from
an
iron
ring
that
joined
the
ends
of
a
wide
leather
belt
around
Sister
Agatha
's
stout
middle
.
Sister
Agatha
's
skin
was
permanently
red
,
from
too
much
cleanliness
and
the
pressure
of
the
knifelike
edges
of
the
wimple
framing
the
front
center
of
her
head
into
something
too
disembodied
to
be
called
a
face
;
little
hairs
sprouted
in
tufts
all
over
her
chin
,
which
the
wimple
ruthlessly
squashed
double
.
Her
lips
were
quite
invisible
,
compressed
into
a
single
line
of
concentration
on
the
hard
business
of
being
the
Bride
of
Christ
in
a
colonial
backwater
with
topsy-turvy
seasons
when
she
had
taken
her
vows
in
the
sweet
softness
of
a
Killarney
abbey
over
fifty
years
before
.
Two
small
crimson
marks
were
etched
into
the
sides
of
her
nose
from
the
remorseless
grip
of
her
round
,
steel-framed
spectacles
,
and
behind
them
her
eyes
peered
out
suspiciously
,
pale-blue
and
bitter
.
"
Well
,
Robert
Cleary
,
why
are
you
late
?
"
Sister
Agatha
barked
in
her
dry
,
once
Irish
voice
.
"
I
'm
sorry
,
Sister
,
"
Bob
replied
woodenly
,
his
blue-green
eyes
still
riveted
on
the
tip
of
the
quivering
cane
as
it
waved
back
and
forth
.
"
Why
are
you
late
?
"
she
repeated
.
