"K. D. Wentworth - As You Sow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wentworth K D)

wonderful!" But then he considered the consequences--if he did that, the
landlord would take back their cottage. He and Sonya would have to live in a
hut
in the forest, and he could not see her agreeing to anything as drastic as
that.
"But I'm afraid I have responsibilities."

"That's what they all say." Poegscowled. "Time was when people knew what was
important. They wanted a little beauty and song in their life, but no one
cares
anymore. After I die, no one will be left who remembers how to find seeds
before
they hatch. Where will people go for birds then?"

No more birdseed? Ungern tucked the bag inside his shirt, trying to imagine a
spring in which the only birds he saw were there by chance. It was a lonely
thought.
"So, Ungern?" Sonya's heavy eyebrows marched upward with the same forcefulness
with which she did everything. "I suppose you took the marketplace by storm."

Ungern sighed. It was a nuisance to be named after a famous pirate. When
people
heard your name, they always thought you were full of pepper and nails when
just
the opposite was true. He could still see the disappointment in Sonya's dark
eyes whenever she looked at him; eight: years ago she had thought him to be
someone else, someone bigger and wider, taller inside. But he wasn't. He was
just Ungem the farmer, and not such a good farmer at that.

Sonya dried her large, capable hands on her apron. "You did get my seeds,
didn't
you~"

"Of course, dear, actually more than last year." He pulled the burlap sack out
of his shirt and set it in the middle of the freshly scrubbed table.

She clucked her tongue. "That is a lot, too much, in fact. What's the matter--
is something wrong with it? Did you let that disgusting old peddler cheat
you~"

"No, no." Ungern opened the sack and poured out the seeds, suddenly aware that
POeg had never exactly said what sort of seeds these were. "See? They're nice
and dry, not a bit of mold or rot."

"Are you sure these are nightingales?" She poked at them with her finger.
"They're much larger than any songbird seeds I've ever seen."

A knot the size of a foot swelled in Ungern's throat. He brushed the seeds
into
a heap, then back into the bag. The peddler had said they were special, he