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

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“Oh, I do’ know”—in a slightly mollified tone. “A piece o’ toast, mebbe—’f you don’t get it too all-fired hard.”

“Well, I’ll try not.”

Nellie went out, and there was silence in the room. The wind came in through the open window, shaking little ripples of perfume into the room. The sun was setting and a broad band of reddish gold sunk down the wall.

Demaris watched it sinking lower, and thought how slowly the sun was settling behind the straight pines on the crests of the blue mountains.

“Oh,” said Mrs. Ferguson, “what a wretched creature I am! Just a-sufferin’ day an’ night, year in an’ year out, an’ a burden on them that I’ve slaved fer all my life. Many’s the night I’ve walked with you ’n my arms till mornin’, Demaris, an’ never knowed what it was to git sleepy or tired. An’ now you git mad the minute I go into a spell.”

Demaris stood upright with a tortured look.

“Oh, ma,” she exclaimed. Her voice was harsh with pain. “I ain’t mad. Don’t think I’m mad. I can’t cry out o’ pity ev’ry time you have a spell, or I’d be cryin’ all the time. An’ besides, to-night I’m so—disappointed.”