"P. N. Elrod - Jonathan Barrett 01 - Red Death" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elrod P N)

"As you say." She shrugged. "But mark me, they shall make it so, whether we
like it or not. We have only to be calm and truthful and let Mother rave o
n as her fancy takes her. Then we shall see how many friends she has about
her."
I was quite confused by this harsh attitude, for it was an alien one in Elizabet
h, then I began to see the point of it all. "You're doing this hoping that Mothe
r will. . . ?"
"A word here and there and she will be shunned by what passes for polite com
pany in these parts. That's what she craves and lives for, the puerile atten
tion and approval of her so-called peers. She's welcome to it, if she can fi
nd any willing to endure her company after this."
"What if they believe her and not you? What if she repeats her—that awful a
ccusation against us? You know adults are more likely to believe other adul
ts."
"But they know us here. They do not know her. And we are Father's children,
raised to be honest and truthful. I think that favors us, Jonathan, so you n
eedn't worry."
"Damnation, I will if I want to."
"Please yourself, then, but support me on this and there's a chance that Mot
her may move out, bag, baggage, and toad-eaters, and leave us all in peace."

That silenced me.
She handed me a leather bundle. "Here, you'd forgotten your books and pape
rs."
"Thank you," I said faintly, my mind busy with all sorts of things. I couldn
't choose whether to approve of her plan or not, but knew that she would go
through with it, regardless of my objections.
She led the way into the yard and I helped her onto Beauty, her favorite. I
swung up on Belle and we set off down the lane leading to the main road, tur
ning into the rising sun. It gave no warmth save within the mind, but it was
still a cheering sight. Rapelji lived in a fine, solid farmhouse at the eas
tern edge of our property. The farm was not his—that had been annexed onto o
ur own lands—but he had a good garden plot for himself and found additional
support from several other students in the area. Some of them boarded with h
im for part of the year and helped with the chores to pay for their tutoring
.
As early as we were, Rapelji was already up and about, a short figure in the
middle of his troop of students as he led them through a peculiar series of
hops and skips for their morning exercise. At a distance, you could only te
ll him from the boys by his flashing spectacles, which somehow stayed on no
matter how vigorous his actions became. As we drew near, he had them all jum
ping and clapping their hands over their heads in time to shouting the multi
plication table at the top of their lungs. It was great fun, and I'd done it
myself at their age. He had the idea that if boys were going to make noise
anyway, it might as well be for a constructive purpose.
They got as far as four times twelve when he called a breathless halt. Some
of the boys had noticed our approach and had lost the count.
"Concentration, gentlemen," he admonished. "Concentration, discipline, and
courtesy. What is required when you see a lady?" As one, but with grins and
playful shoving, the boys pretended to sweep hats from their bare heads an