Читать книгу From the Land of the Snow-Pearls: Tales from Puget Sound онлайн

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The chair was brought. The bottles were placed upon it. Demaris stood waiting.

“Now rub my head with the camfire, or I’ll go ravin’ crazy. I can’t think where ’t comes from!”

The child stood twitching her thin fingers around a chair. She watched her mother in a matter-of-course way. Demaris leaned over the couch in an uncomfortable position and commenced the slow, gentle massage that must continue all night. She did not lift her eyes. They were full of tears.

For a long time there was silence in the room. Mrs. Ferguson lay with closed eyes. Her face wore a look of mingled injury and reproach.

“Nellie,” said Demaris, after a while, “could you make a fire in the kitchen stove? Or would you rather try to do this while I build it?”

“Hunh-unh,” said the child, shaking her head with emphasis. “I’d ruther build fires any time.”

“All right. Put two dippers o’ water ’n the tea-kettle. Be sure you get your dampers right. An’ I guess you might wash some potatoes an’ put ’em in to bake. They’ll be done by time pa comes, an’ he can stay with ma while I warm up the rest o’ the things. Ma, what could you eat?”