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- Рэй Брэдбери
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Mr
.
LaFarge
sat
down
to
his
supper
and
,
knife
in
hand
,
looked
over
at
Tom
.
"
Tom
,
"
he
said
,
"
what
did
you
do
this
afternoon
?
"
"
Nothing
,
"
said
Tom
,
his
mouth
full
.
"
Why
?
"
"
Just
wanted
to
know
.
"
The
old
man
tucked
his
napkin
in
.
At
seven
that
night
the
old
woman
wanted
to
go
to
town
.
"
Haven
’
t
been
there
in
months
,
"
she
said
.
But
Tom
desisted
.
"
I
’
m
afraid
of
the
town
,
"
he
said
.
"
The
people
.
I
don
’
t
want
to
go
there
.
"
"
Such
talk
for
a
grown
boy
,
"
said
Anna
.
"
I
won
’
t
listen
to
it
.
You
’
ll
come
along
.
I
say
so
.
"
"
Anna
,
if
the
boy
doesn
’
t
want
to
…
"
started
the
old
man
.
But
there
was
no
arguing
.
She
hustled
them
into
the
canalboat
and
they
floated
up
the
canal
under
the
evening
stars
,
Tom
lying
on
his
back
,
his
eyes
closed
;
asleep
or
not
,
there
was
no
telling
.
The
old
man
looked
at
him
steadily
,
wondering
.
Who
is
this
,
he
thought
,
in
need
of
love
as
much
as
we
?
Who
is
he
and
what
is
he
that
,
out
of
loneliness
,
he
comes
into
the
alien
camp
and
assumes
the
voice
and
face
of
memory
and
stands
among
us
,
accepted
and
happy
at
last
?
From
what
mountain
,
what
cave
,
what
small
last
race
of
people
remaining
on
this
world
when
the
rockets
came
from
Earth
?
The
old
man
shook
his
head
.
There
was
no
way
to
know
.
This
,
to
all
purposes
,
was
Tom
.
The
old
man
looked
at
the
town
ahead
and
did
not
like
it
,
but
then
he
returned
to
thoughts
of
Tom
and
Anna
again
and
he
thought
to
himself
:
Perhaps
this
is
wrong
to
keep
Tom
but
a
little
while
,
when
nothing
can
come
of
it
but
trouble
and
sorrow
,
but
how
are
we
to
give
up
the
very
thing
we
’
ve
wanted
,
no
matter
if
it
stays
only
a
day
and
is
gone
,
making
the
emptiness
emptier
,
the
dark
nights
darker
,
the
rainy
nights
wetter
?
You
might
as
well
force
the
food
from
our
mouths
as
take
this
one
from
us
.
And
he
looked
at
the
boy
slumbering
so
peacefully
at
the
bottom
of
the
boat
.
The
boy
whimpered
with
some
dream
.
"
The
people
,
"
he
murmured
in
his
sleep
.
