"Jack Williamson - Star Bright" - читать интересную книгу автора (Williamson Jack)

"I'm sorry, darling." She kissed him moistly again, and her voice was tenderly sympathetic
"Now get washed. I want to have dinner early, because tonight is Delphian League."
Her voice was too sweet. Mr. Peabody wondered what she wanted. It always took her a good
while to work up to the point. When she arrived there, however, she was likely to be invincible
He made another feeble effort.
"I don't know what things are coming to." He made a weary shrug. "Berg is threatening to cu
our pay. With the insurance, and the house payments, and the children, I don't see how we'd
live."
Ella Peabody came back to him, and put her soft arm around him. She smelled faintly of the
perfume she had used on the evening before, faintly of kitchen odors.
"We'll manage, dear," she said bravely.
She began to talk brightly of the small events of the day. Her duties in the kitchen caused no
interruption. Her remarkable voice reached him clearly, even through the closed bathroom door.
With an exaggerated show of fatigue, Mr. Peabody settled himself into an easy chair. He
found the morning paper—which he never had time to read in the morning—opened it, and then
dropped it across his knees as if too tired to read. Feebly attempting another diversion, he asked:
"Where are the children?"
"
William is out to see the man about his car."
Mr. Peabody forgot his fatigue.
"I told William he couldn't have a car," he said, with some heat. "I told him he's too young and
irresponsible. If he insists on buying some pile of junk, he'll have to pay for it himself. Don't ask
me how."
"And Beth," Mrs. Peabody's voice continued, "is down at the beauty shop." She came to the
kitchen door. "But I have the most thrilling news for you, darling!"
The lilt in her voice told Mr. Peabody to expect the worst. The dreaded moment had come
Desperately he lifted the paper from his knees, became absorbed in it.
"Yes, dear," he said. "Here—I see the champ is going to take on this Australian palooka, if—"
"Darling, did you hear me?" Ella Peabody's penetrating voice could not be ignored. "At the
Delphian League tonight, I'm going to read a paper on the Transcendental Renaissance. Isn't tha
a perfectly gorgeous opportunity?"
 Mr. Peabody dropped the paper. He was puzzled. The liquid sparkle in her voice was proo
enough that her moment of victory was at hand. Yet her purpose was still unrevealed.
"Ella, dear,", he inquired meekly, "what do you know about the Transcendental Renaissance?"
"Don't worry about that, darling. The young man at the library did the research and typed the
paper for me, for only ten dollars. But it's so sweet of you to want to help me, and there's one
thing that you can do."
Mr. Peabody squirmed uncomfortably in his chair. The trap was closing, and he could see no
escape.
"I knew you'd understand, darling." Her voice had a little tender throb. "And you know I didn'
have a decent rag to wear. Darling, I'm getting that blue jersey that was in the window of the
Famous. It was marked sixty-nine eighty, but the manager let me have it for only forty-nine
ninety-five."
"I'm awfully sorry, dear," Mr. Peabody said slowly. "But I'm afraid we simply can't manage it
I'm afraid you had better send it back."
Ella's blue eyes widened, and began to glitter.
"Darling!" Her throbbing voice broke. "Darling—you must understand. I can't read my paper
in those disgraceful old rags. Besides, it has already been altered."
"But, dear—we just haven't got the money."
Mr. Peabody picked up his paper again, upside down. After twenty-two years, he knew wha