Читать книгу Prince Dusty. A Story of the Oil Regions онлайн

44 страница из 57

There had been another and more appreciative witness of Mr. Dustin’s thoughtful act. It was Uncle Phin, who, kneeling outside the shed and gazing through an open chink in its rough wall, was waiting patiently for the family to retire that he might have a private and undetected conversation with his “lil Marse.”

As Mr. Dustin again left the shed, the old man said softly to himself:

“De good Lawd bress you fer what you is jes done, Marse Dustin. You is got some ob pore Marse Richard’s goodness into you after all. If it warn’t fer de ole Miss an dem wicked chillun, me an lil Marse would try an stick it out awhile longer. But it can’t be did. No, sah, it can’t be did.” Here the old man shook his white head sorrowfully. “Dem young limbs is too powerful wicked, an ole Miss, she back ’em up. Fer a fac, ole Phin got ter tote his lamb away fum heah, an maybe de good Lawd lead us to de green fiels ob de still waters, where we kin lie down in peacefulness.”

An hour later, when the lights of the house were extinguished and all was still with the silence of sleep, Uncle Phin cautiously opened the shed door, and tip-toeing heavily to where Arthur lay, rested his horny hand gently on the boy’s white forehead.