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- Рэй Брэдбери
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Douglas
was
summoned
next
to
her
side
.
"
Grandma
,
who
’
ll
shingle
the
roof
next
spring
?
"
Every
April
for
as
far
back
as
there
were
calendars
,
you
thought
you
heard
woodpeckers
tapping
the
housetop
.
But
no
,
it
was
Great
-
grandma
somehow
transported
,
singing
,
pounding
nails
,
replacing
shingles
,
high
in
the
sky
!
"
Douglas
,
"
she
whispered
,
"
don
’
t
ever
let
anyone
do
the
shingles
unless
it
’
s
fun
for
them
.
"
"
Look
around
come
April
,
and
say
,
‘
Who
’
d
like
to
fix
the
roof
?
’
And
whichever
face
lights
up
is
the
face
you
want
,
Douglas
.
Because
up
there
on
that
roof
you
can
see
the
whole
town
going
toward
the
country
and
the
country
going
toward
the
edge
of
the
earth
and
the
river
shining
,
and
the
morning
lake
,
and
birds
on
the
trees
down
under
you
,
and
the
best
of
the
wind
all
around
above
.
Any
one
of
those
should
be
enough
to
make
a
person
climb
a
weather
vane
some
spring
sunrise
.
It
’
s
a
powerful
hour
,
if
you
give
it
half
a
chance
.
.
.
"
Her
voice
sank
to
a
soft
flutter
.
Douglas
was
crying
.
She
roused
herself
again
.
"
Now
,
why
are
you
doing
that
?
"
"
Because
,
"
he
said
,
"
you
won
’
t
be
here
tomorrow
.
"
She
turned
a
small
hand
mirror
from
herself
to
the
boy
.
He
looked
at
her
face
and
himself
in
the
mirror
and
then
at
her
face
again
as
she
said
,
"
Tomorrow
morning
I
’
ll
get
up
at
seven
and
wash
behind
my
ears
;
I
’
ll
run
to
church
with
Charlie
Woodman
;
I
’
ll
picnic
at
Electric
Park
;
I
’
ll
swim
,
run
barefoot
,
fall
out
of
trees
,
chew
spearmint
gum
.
.
.
Douglas
,
Douglas
,
for
shame
!
You
cut
your
fingernails
,
don
’
t
you
?
"
