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- Рэй Брэдбери
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"
And
your
name
’
s
not
really
Helen
?
"
"
Of
course
it
’
s
Helen
!
"
"
Good
-
bye
,
"
said
the
two
girls
,
giggling
away
across
the
lawn
under
the
seas
of
shade
,
Tom
followed
them
slowly
.
"
Thanks
for
the
ice
cream
!
"
"
Once
I
played
hopscotch
!
"
Mrs
.
Bentley
cried
after
them
,
but
they
were
gone
.
Mrs
Bentley
spent
the
rest
of
the
day
slamming
teakettles
about
,
loudly
preparing
a
meager
lunch
,
and
from
time
to
time
going
to
the
front
door
,
hoping
to
catch
those
insolent
fiends
on
their
laughing
excursions
through
the
late
day
.
But
if
they
had
appeared
,
what
could
she
say
to
them
,
why
should
she
worry
about
them
?
"
The
idea
!
"
said
Mrs
.
Bentley
to
her
dainty
,
rose
-
clustered
teacup
.
"
No
one
ever
doubted
I
was
a
girl
before
.
What
a
silly
,
horrible
thing
to
do
.
I
don
’
t
mind
being
old
—
not
really
—
but
I
do
resent
having
my
childhood
taken
away
from
me
.
"
She
could
see
the
children
racing
off
under
the
cavernous
trees
with
her
youth
in
their
frosty
fingers
,
invisible
as
air
.
After
supper
,
for
no
reason
at
all
,
with
a
senseless
certainty
of
motion
,
she
watched
her
own
hands
,
like
a
pair
of
ghostly
gloves
at
a
seance
,
gather
together
certain
items
in
a
perfumed
kerchief
.
Then
she
went
to
her
front
porch
and
stood
there
stiffly
for
half
an
hour
.
