Fine! - boy Fedja has told.
pol has collected the cyberyard keeper, shlepnul it on blued back, and the cyberyard keeper has rushed - to type energy on
a blaze of the sun.
Charm! - Pol has told and has wiped hands about trousers. - now we will look that at us with pterokarom...
No, please... - boy Fedja has quickly started talking. - Pterokar I, the word of honour...
Ah, itself, - Pol has told. - Then I will go I will wash hands. And who your teacher? My teacher - Nikolay Kuzmich Belka, the
oceanologist, - has told the boy and has bristled up.
pol has not risked to make witticisms, silently has patted the boy shoulder and has gone the own way. He felt much better. It
already passed first two quarters of settlement when over it with a rustle it was carried by familiar pterokar and a boyish voice,
is intolerable being false, has represented a cry rakopauka, overtaking extraction.
Having reflected, Pol has flown on dvuhgolovogo the calf. The calf has jumped aside aside and has stared at Fields both
steams of eyes. Then it was pulled by the left head to a grass underfoot, and right - to a branch of the lilac which have hung
over road. Here it have lashed hvorostinkoj, and it, kicking, has run further.
The dvuhgolovogo calf of a sobriquet very nice suntanned girl in tsvetastom a sundress and in a straw hat aslant. pol has
become stupid has murmured: "the Shepherdess young on the market hastens..." That? - The girl has asked, stopping.
No, it was not simply very nice. It was simply very beautiful. Such beautiful that should be clever, such clever that should be
nice, such nice that... It wanted to Field to become immediately high and broad-shouldered, with a clear forehead and quiet
eyes. The zigzag carried by thought: "Anyway, it is necessary to be witty". It сказал:Меня call Pol.
The girl ответила:Меня call Irina. You something have told, Pol? pol has sweated. The girl waited, impatiently glancing after
the leaving calf. Thoughts in the Field head rushed in three layers. "We will take a root square... The Cupid shoots from a
double-barrelled carbine... Now she will decide that I the stutterer..." About! The stutterer is a thought.