10 shorts stories by O. Henry. Книга для чтения на английском языке

Тем самым автор показывает, что они именно были раньше похождений Пита| music in Stuffy’s ear. But now he looked up at the Old Gentleman’s face with tears of suffering in his eyes. The snow turned quickly to water when it fell upon his hot face. But the Old Gentleman was shaking with the cold. He turned away, with his back to the wind, and he did not see Stuffy’s eyes.

Stuffy had always wondered |всегда думал. I wonder – это чаще “я думаю”, ане “яудивляюсь”| why the Old Gentleman seemed sad as he spoke. He did not know that it was because the Old Gentleman was wishing that he had a son.

A son would come there after he himself was gone |сын бы приходил бы туда, после того как Старый Джентльмен бы умер|. A son would stand proud and strong before Stuffy, and say: “In remembrance of my father.” Then it would really be a tradition.

But the Old Gentleman had no family. He lived in a room in one of the old houses near the park. In the winter he grew a few flowers there. In the spring he walked on Fifth Avenue.

In the summer he lived in a farmhouse in the hills outside New York, and he talked of a strange bug |все говорил о каком-тостранномнасекомом| he hoped some day to find. In the fall season he gave Stuffy a dinner. These were the things that filled the Old Gentleman’s life.

Stuffy Pete looked up at him for a half minute, helpless and very sorry for himself. The Old Gentleman’s eyes were bright with the giving-pleasure. His face was getting older every year, but his clothes were very clean and fresh.

And then Stuffy made a strange noise. He was trying to speak. As the Old Gentleman had heard the noise nine times before, he understood it. He knew that Stuffy was accepting.

“Thank you. I’m very hungry.”

Stuffy was very full, but he understood that he was part of a tradition. His desire for food on Thanksgiving Day was not his own |его желание…ему не принадлежало|. It belonged to this kind Old Gentleman. True, America is free. But there are some things that must be done.

The Old Gentleman led Stuffy to the restaurant and to the same table where they had always gone.

They were known here.

“Here comes that old man,” said a waiter, “that buys that old no-good fellow |странному мутному типу| a dinner every Thanksgiving.”

The Old Gentleman sat at the table, watching. The waiters brought food, and more food. And Stuffy began to eat.

No great and famous soldier ever battled |ни один… солдат так невоевал…| more strongly against an enemy.