The Garden Party, and Other Stories. Katherine Mansfield
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Название: The Garden Party, and Other Stories
Автор: Katherine Mansfield
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 4057664132574
isbn:
“Yes, you do, Lottie. It’s quite easy,” said Kezia.
And Isabel, repentant, said exactly like a grown-up, “Watch me, Lottie, and you’ll soon learn.”
“Cheer up, Lot,” said Pip. “There, I know what I’ll do. I’ll give you the first one. It’s mine, really, but I’ll give it to you. Here you are.” And he slammed the card down in front of Lottie.
Lottie revived at that. But now she was in another difficulty. “I haven’t got a hanky,” she said; “I want one badly, too.”
“Here, Lottie, you can use mine.” Rags dipped into his sailor blouse and brought up a very wet-looking one, knotted together. “Be very careful,” he warned her. “Only use that corner. Don’t undo it. I’ve got a little starfish inside I’m going to try and tame.”
“Oh, come on, you girls,” said the bull. “And mind—you’re not to look at your cards. You’ve got to keep your hands under the table till I say ‘Go.’ ”
Smack went the cards round the table. They tried with all their might to see, but Pip was too quick for them. It was very exciting, sitting there in the washhouse; it was all they could do not to burst into a little chorus of animals before Pip had finished dealing.
“Now, Lottie, you begin.”
Timidly Lottie stretched out a hand, took the top card off her pack, had a good look at it—it was plain she was counting the spots—and put it down.
“No, Lottie, you can’t do that. You mustn’t look first. You must turn it the other way over.”
“But then everybody will see it the same time as me,” said Lottie.
The game proceeded. Mooe-ooo-er! The bull was terrible. He charged over the table and seemed to eat the cards up.
Bss-ss! said the bee.
Cock-a-doodle-do! Isabel stood up in her excitement and moved her elbows like wings.
Baa! Little Rags put down the King of Diamonds and Lottie put down the one they called the King of Spain. She had hardly any cards left.
“Why don’t you call out, Lottie?”
“I’ve forgotten what I am,” said the donkey woefully.
“Well, change! Be a dog instead! Bow-wow!”
“Oh yes. That’s much easier.” Lottie smiled again. But when she and Kezia both had a one Kezia waited on purpose. The others made signs to Lottie and pointed. Lottie turned very red; she looked bewildered, and at last she said, “Hee-haw! Ke-zia.”
“Ss! Wait a minute!” They were in the very thick of it when the bull stopped them, holding up his hand. “What’s that? What’s that noise?”
“What noise? What do you mean?” asked the rooster.
“Ss! Shut up! Listen!” They were mouse-still. “I thought I heard a—a sort of knocking,” said the bull.
“What was it like?” asked the sheep faintly.
No answer.
The bee gave a shudder. “Whatever did we shut the door for?” she said softly. Oh, why, why had they shut the door?
While they were playing, the day had faded; the gorgeous sunset had blazed and died. And now the quick dark came racing over the sea, over the sand-hills, up the paddock. You were frightened to look in the corners of the washhouse, and yet you had to look with all your might. And somewhere, far away, grandma was lighting a lamp. The blinds were being pulled down; the kitchen fire leapt in the tins on the mantelpiece.
“It would be awful now,” said the bull, “if a spider was to fall from the ceiling on to the table, wouldn’t it?”
“Spiders don’t fall from ceilings.”
“Yes, they do. Our Min told us she’d seen a spider as big as a saucer, with long hairs on it like a gooseberry.”
Quickly all the little heads were jerked up; all the little bodies drew together, pressed together.
“Why doesn’t somebody come and call us?” cried the rooster.
Oh, those grown-ups, laughing and snug, sitting in the lamp-light, drinking out of cups! They’d forgotten about them. No, not really forgotten. That was what their smile meant. They had decided to leave them there all by themselves.
Suddenly Lottie gave such a piercing scream that all of them jumped off the forms, all of them screamed too. “A face—a face looking!” shrieked Lottie.
It was true, it was real. Pressed against the window was a pale face, black eyes, a black beard.
“Grandma! Mother! Somebody!”
But they had not got to the door, tumbling over one another, before it opened for Uncle Jonathan. He had come to take the little boys home.
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