"Robert F. Young - Did You Ever See a Tree Walking" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

“Just the same,” Mr. DelPopolo said, “I tell you to be careful. Once in Sicily I climb the tree and cut
the branch. I know."
He turned and re-entered the store, sidling past a short dark-haired woman as rotund as he was
stocky who was standing in the door-way. Mrs. DelPopolo, Wesley guessed; and guessed, too, from the
dour expression on her face, that all was not well in the Del-Popolo menage.
"How's it look, Wes?" Herb called up.
"Not bad," Wesley said. "I'm going to drop the first one straight down."
He rigged himself a saddle and told Harris to send up the chain saw. The limb came off fine. It made
an awful crash, though, when it hit the pavement between the two lines of cars Herb and Harris had
flagged down, and Mr. and Mrs. DelPopolo and Sleeping Beauty came streaking out of the delicatessen
like three bees out of a hive. Mr. DelPopolo didn't even bother to look at the limb: He looked up at the
sign instead, and his sigh of relief was audible all the way up to the crotch where Wesley was standing.
Mrs. DelPopolo looked up at the sign, too, but if she was relieved to see it still shining in the sun, her
dour countenace did not register the fact.
Wesley got the next limb off without any trouble, too. And the next and the next. By the time noon
came he was feeling pretty proud of himself, and he burned down in his saddle with the best of them "Be
right with you,” he told Herb. "I'm going to get a pint of milk."
The interior of the store had a bright new look. Sleeping Beauty had a bright new look, too, as she
came through the living-quarters doorway. Her black hair, freshly combed, fell to her shoulders, and a
pink rose that matched the hue of her cheeks, rode its lustrous waves.
"Hello," Wesley began, "I—" and that was as far as he got.
"I'm not a Peeping Tom," he interrupted her presently. "It's my job to climb trees!"
"Is it your job to look in windows, too?"
"I couldn't help it. I just raised my eyes and there you were."
"You didn't have to stare!"
"I didn't mean to stare. It was just one of those things. Anyway, I apologize, and now if you'll get me
a pint of milk, I won't bother you any more."
She got the milk out of a gleaming new refrigerator and set it on the counter. Wesley paid her. "Is
there a place around here where we can eat our lunch?" he asked.
"There's a picnic table out in back, but you better ask pop first."
"Never mind ask him! Eat at the table if you like."
Mrs. DelPopolo had appeared in the living-quarters doorway. Now she advanced to the counter,
tore a small piece of wrap-ping paper from the roll and scribbled some-thing on it with a soft-lead pencil.
She folded it and handed it to Sleeping Beauty. "Give to him, Angelica," she said. She regarded Wesley
with enigmatic eyes. "You eat at the table, yes?"
"Yes," Wesley said. "Thank you, Mrs. DelPopolo."
The table was a big home-made one and stood in the shade of a pear tree. The back-yard was big,
too, and bordered with flowers. After they stowed away their lunch they sat around and smoked till
12.30, then headed back for the tree. Mrs. DelPopolo popped out on the back porch just as they were
passing and beckoned to Wesley.
She looked him up and down after he climbed the steps. "You are the one who cuts off the top of the
tree?" she asked.
When Wesley nodded, she pulled a wilted wad of bills out of her apron pocket and leaned close to
him. "You know the sign in the front?"
Wesley said he did.
She leaned even eloser. She lowered her voice. "When you cut the biggest limb, you drop it right on
the sign, yes?”
Wesley stared at her. "But why?" he said, when he found his voice.
Little sparks appeared in her dark brown eyes. "My husband, great big shot he is! Dominic
DelPopolo, he has the sign say. Not Dominic and Margherita DelPopolo. And so everybody can see