"Robert F. Young - Thirty Days Had September" - читать интересную книгу автора (Young Robert F)

Thirty Days Had
September
by
Robert F. Young

The sign in the window said: SCHOOLTEACHER FOR SALE, DIRT
CHEAP ; and, in small letters: CAN COOK, SEW, AND IS HANDY AROUND THE HOUSE.
She made Danby think of desks and erasers and autumn leaves; of books and
dreams and laughter. The proprietor of the little second-hand store had adorned her
with a gay-colored dress and had slipped little red sandals on her feet, and she stood
in her upright case in the window like a life-size doll waiting for someone to bring her
to life.
Danby tried to move on down the spring street to the parking lot where he kept
his Baby Buick. Laura probably had his supper all dialed and waiting on the table for
him and she would be furious if he was late. But he went right on standing where he
was, tall and thin, his youth not quite behind him, still lingering in his brown, wistful
eyes, showing faintly in the softness of his cheeks.
His inertia annoyed him. He'd passed the store a thousand times on his way from
the parking lot to his office and on his way from his office to the parking lot, but this
was the first time he'd ever stopped and looked in the window.
But wasn't this the first time the window had ever contained something that he
wanted?
Danby tried to face the question. Did he want a schoolteacher? Well, hardly. But
Laura certainly needed someone to help her with the housework, and they couldn't
afford an automatic maid, and Billy certainly could stand some extra-TV tutoring,
with the boxtop tests coming up, and—
And—and her hair made him think of September sunlight, her face, of a
September day. A September mist settled around him, and all of a sudden his inertia
left him and he began to walk—but not in the direction he had intended to go …
"How much is the schoolteacher in the window?" he asked.
Antiques of every description were scattered about the interior of the store. The
proprietor was a little old man with bushy white hair and gingerbread eyes. He
looked like an antique himself.
He beamed at Danby's question. "You like her, sir? She's very lovely."
 Danby's face felt warm. "How much?" he repeated.
"Forty-nine ninety-five, plus five dollars for the case."
Danby could hardly believe it. With schoolteachers so rare, you'd think the price
would go up, not down. And yet, less than a year ago, when he'd been thinking of
buying a rebuilt third-grade teacher to help Billy with his TV-schoolwork, the
lowest-priced one he could find had run well over a hundred dollars. He would have
bought her even at that, though, if Laura hadn't talked him out of it. Laura had never
gone to realschool and didn't understand.
But forty-nine ninety-five! And she could cook and sew, too! Surely Laura
wouldn't try to talk him out of buying this one—
She definitely wouldn't if he didn't give her the chance.
"Is—is she in good condition?"
The proprietor's face grew pained. "She's been completely overhauled, sir. Brand
new batteries, brand new motors. Her tapes are good for another ten years yet, and
her memory banks will probably last forever. Here, I'll bring her in and show you."
The case was mounted on castors, but it was awkward to handle. Danby helped