Zero Act - Que Difícil é Ser Escravo de Deus!

Almost the entire territory of the valley, spread out at the very foot of the mountains, was occupied by a rich fair, which attracted people from all over the area. There was something to stare at: colourful tents, flashy signs and stalls from which they traded all sorts of things. It seemed that each store tried to surprise customers with something unusual, each merchant sought to outdo competitors and stand out from the crowd of their own kind. Between the tents bustled cheerful and noisy youngsters, serious and sedate adults, as well as bilious and gloomy gaffers. They were all united by one common property - all as one vied with each other touted their product and urged their purchasers not to be stingy and spend more money.

It was amusing how sincerely passers-by believed the hucksters at their word - probably, it was the eternal need for entertainment and spectacles. No one paid attention to the fact that merchants often give goods to customers at a price several times higher than their cost, and their quality was far from always up to par. A sane person would never have bought here all the rubbish that was put up for sale here, but this fair was like that - no matter how you walk on it, you still buy something. And generally such fun reigned in the shopping arcade that it was sometimes completely incomprehensible to an outsider who was selling, who was buying, and who was just idly staggering between the rows, staring at merchandise on display.

On holidays, the cries of people, which the wind carried far around, did not subside day or night. Today, despite the fact that according to the calendar it was the twenty-ninth of June - Feast of Saints Peter and Paul, selling was held in complete silence, except for the rare ringing of bells coming from the tents placed throughout the space of the fair. Clouds were gathering in the sky, but there was no rain yet.

On this day, only at the very entrance to the fair, several sellers were sitting in their places, who were languidly talking to each other and throwing lazy glances towards the huge circus tent - main attraction of this place. Its motley tarpaulin was decorated for the holiday with garlands of colourful balloons and brightly coloured paper flags. Not a soul was in chapiteau - it seemed that all its artists, acrobats and conjurers amicably left their places a few days before the holiday, and now its curtains fluttered in the cold wind that blew over the valley.

Suddenly, a desperate cry flew to the ears of the only participants in the fair at the moment, so unexpected that all five people - four merchants and one onlooker - involuntarily shuddered in their places. And then, right in front of their eyes, Sweaty Subject ran into the fair with a leather folder under his arm.

- Please, somebody help me! - heartrendingly screamed this person.
- What happened to him? - wondered Confectionery Countermen, wrapping the lollipop in cling film.
- It's obvious he's running from someone! - answered him Pottery Peddler, cleaning an old ceramic crock.
- Interestingly, from the beast? - guessed Raggery Retailer, shaking dust out of mat.
- It seems to me that from a human, - suggested Toy Trader, embroidering toy dresses for new dolls.
- Either way, he needs support! - intervened Weariless Woodcutter, who was just goofing around.

Sweaty Subject, shrinking his whole body, continued to run forward. His folder opened and white sheets of paper flew out into the air. Meanwhile, a distant rumble of thunder reached the ears of the assembled.

- One-Who-That-Never-Visible chasing after me! - he cried out even more desperately.
- Didn't understand who he talking about? - asked Confectionery Countermen, placing candy on a tray.
- Why can't the pursuer can't be seen? - echoed him Pottery Peddler, put down his pot.
- Maybe because he is not visible? - answered them both Raggery Retailer, hanging a rug on the wall.
- How is this possible? - growled Toy Trader, putting the puppets in the crate.
- Whatever the case, something was fishy! - concluded Weariless Woodcutter, rolled up the sleeves.

Without making out his way, Sweaty Subject gradually approached the circus tent. The papers that spilled out of his folder scattered randomly in different directions, but no one paid attention to this, because their owner suddenly froze in place and slowly rose up half a meter above the ground.

- Save me, somebody save me! - the stranger shouted hoarsely.
- Friends, just look at this! - exclaimed Confectionery Countermen, looking at how Sweaty Subject fluttered in the air.
- Someone has grabbed him and now holding! - gasped Pottery Peddler, watching the stranger bulge his eyes and panting.
- But I don't see anyone! - said in bewilderment Raggery Retailer, seeing as Sweaty Subject began to swing back and forth.
- Think, this isn't a game... - muttered Toy Trader, when the stranger suddenly flew to the ground.
- So what are you waiting for, let's hurry to help him! - cheered up the merchants Weariless Woodcutter, bending his arms at the elbows.

In the meantime, Sweaty Subject relish crashed on his face and sprawled out on the grass with his arms outstretched. The marketeers were already preparing to rush to his aid, when they suddenly saw how the huge dome of the tent began to slowly fall to the ground, as if someone had dropped the strong pillars supporting it.

- Hey, who is stealing my goods? - squealed in fright Confectionery Countermen, when lollipops suddenly began to disappear from his counter.
- Who's beating my dishes? - shouted Pottery Peddler, dodging ceramic shards flying in his face.
- Get this sheet off me! - called out Raggery Retailer, floundering under a veil thrown over by someone.
- It was painful, - hooted Toy Trader, when the soccer ball hit his solar plexus.
- Just you wait! - growled Weariless Woodcutter, rubbing the bruise under the eye.

Like it or not, but Sweaty Subject spoke the pure truth - some invisible force penetrated into the fair. There was no time to delay. Confectionery Countermen helped Raggery Retailer get out from under the velvet cover embroidered with gold patterns, and all four merchants, led by Weariless Woodcutter, began to keep the council.

- My hot caramel will burn scoundrel's skin! - bleated in a nasty voice Confectionery Countermen, grabbing a aluminum saute pan from the stove.
- With sharp shards I will shower the grass on which he will pass! - yelled Pottery Peddler, picking up the pieces of the broken pot in a bag.
- I'll try to gouge out his eyes with scissors! - roared Raggery Retailer, rummaging through the closet
- People, you don't really see him.... - rightly noticed Toy Trader, put on boxing gloves just in case.
- Anyway, he can't resist it! - said with fighting zeal Weariless Woodcutter, picking up his sharpened hatchet from the ground.

The impressive appearance of this weapon immediately reassured the merchants - they realized that the axe would protect them anyway, so they gave up trying to arm themselves with something and ran in single file for Weariless Woodcutter towards the fallen tent. The next minute there was a rumble of thunder throughout the valley, and a downpour fell from the heavens onto the fair. This whim of nature confused people, and they involuntarily froze in place while cold streams of rain whipped their heads and clothes.

- Look! Watch up there! - audibly called out Confectionery Countermen, attracting the attention of other marketeers.
- My lord, what I see!? - could not suppress his surprise Pottery Peddler, gazing at the vague outline of a human silhouette standing in the middle of the trampled grass
- Great, he became visible, - thoughtfully said Raggery Retailer, looking at the translucent, as if made of glass figure.
- It's all because of the rain... - muttered darkly Toy Trader, realizing what was the matter.
- Whatever it was, it must be get'em immediately! - shaking an hatchet, shouted Weariless Woodcutter

Four vendors in a bunch, to say nothing of the rubberneck, began to slowly - step by step - approach the human figure, which stood motionless five meters from the motley canvas of the tent lying on the grass. From the outside, this event looked as if predatory wolves encircled a defenseless lamb in order to tear it apart - which was not so far from the truth, if you remember how strongly the primitive instinct to destroy their own kind is developed in every person.

- Come to your senses, I have not harmed thou! - suddenly, a beautiful young voice rang out.
- Just hear, it turns out he knows how to talk! - hissed Confectionery Countermen.
- What are you justifying?! - barked angrily Pottery Peddler to the human figure.
- Guys, don't let him go!! - shouted Raggery Retailer.
- One-Who-That-Never-Visible is not that invisible! - amazedly said Toy Trader.

Weariless Woodcutter without saying a word - he dashed forward bravely towards translucent silhouette standing motionless in the grass. Back-swing, and the hatched fell on the glass head.

- Shield your eyes! - warned the others Pottery Peddler.

Confectionery Countermen with Raggery Retailer put their hands up to faces, and Toy Trader plugged his ears. However, what was their surprise when the glass human figure did not break into thousands of sharp fragments, but only silently fell on the grass.

- Then it serves you right! - resounded a cheerful voice of Weariless Woodcutter.

The merchants took their hands off heads and approached their saviour, who was looking down at the grass. They followed his example and did not believe their eyes.

- Well, for heaven's sakes... - groaned Confectionery Countermen, seeing the transparent body of an adult lying on the ground.
- A masterpiece of the glass making, - quoth Pottery Peddler, looking at the perfectly smooth features of the glass statue.
- Hey he's warm and mild! - cried with wonder Raggery Retailer, touching his chest.
- Oh, what are those? - shouted in fright Toy Trader, when the glass surface suddenly began to flicker and become covered with dark stains
- Get back from it, now! - ordered Weariless Woodcutter.

Merchants with onlooker backed away from the statue lying in the grass, which in the meantime began to take colour - as if someone's invisible hand applied oil paints to the glass figures. Limbs were pink first, then stained the chest and stomach, and then all five watchers stand in awe when they saw the beautiful young face - there was no anxiety or abhorrence in the youth's eyes, he just gazed serenely straight up at the cloudy sky.

- So it wasn't a beast... - mumbled Confectionery Countermen, shivering from the cold streams of rain.
- This is a true human, just like us, - whispered sadly Pottery Peddler, swallowing the lump in his throat.
- So immature... And what a peaceful sight he has... - as if in a trance noticed Raggery Retailer.
- We killed him! He is not breathing, his heart is not beating! - cried out Toy Trader, recovering from stun.

Weariless Woodcutter refrained from commenting. Instead, he silently tossed his hatchet aside and, pulling off his knitted hat, froze in place, clutching it in his hands. An awful silence followed his deed, and each of those standing next to the deceased felt his responsibility for what he had done. It's been four minutes, and gathered people decided they'd had enough, began to disperse, but before they had time to take two steps, the ground shook under their feet.

- Oh, God! It's an... ...quake! - swallowing words, yelled Confectionery Countermen, falling on the land.

There was such a rumble in the air that no one heard his words, but each of them saw with horror how the earth began to crack and the trading tents began to fall into the ground. People rushed about in a panic, but there was no salvation - there was nowhere to run, with every second more and more cracks appeared in the ground, from which clouds of dust rose up, and in some half a minute the entire fair disappeared underground.

Soon the earthquake stopped and the deafening grumble finally subsided. When the wind dispersed the clouds of dust, it became clear that from the whole fair there was only one single tent of the spice merchant - everything else disappeared in a huge funnel gaping in the ground, in the middle of which stood an earthen pillar, the top of which was covered with grass, on which, with his arms outstretched to the sides, the same immature man lay motionless. His glazed eyes continued to look at the sky, already cleared of clouds.

The young man's mouth was slightly open, and from the side it might seem as if he was silently saying a prayer. It was not clear why the plot of land on which the deceased lay did not go underground along with the rest of the fair, but one thing was certain - the earthquake was not a natural disaster, but retribution for his death. And as if confirming it, a loud cry resounded over the valley, full of inescapable anguish and suffering. As it might seem, that this cry came from all directions at the same time, as if sound source was somewhere in the sky...

...and then there was an awakening from the sleep. Little girl in a white nightgown awoke screaming in her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks. She sat up in bed and, rubbing her eyes with her fist, took several deep breaths. The street was silent, only occasionally broken by the rustle of leaves in the crowns of a tree growing under the window. Not a single ray of light penetrated the room - the windows were curtained with heavy curtains of thick velvet. Gradually, the girl's eyes got used to the darkness, and she was able to distinguish the outlines of the closet in which her numerous outfits were stored, the table at which she painted and did her homework, as well as the chair she liked to sit on with her legs crossed.

Tearing her eyes away from the interior, baby girl sobbed and pulled her knees up to her chest. Wrapping her arms around them, she froze, listening to her feelings. All the thoughts that were born in her head somehow came down to the same topic, namely to the nightmare. Still not fully awake, she continued to feel the heaviness that he left on her soul. The little one had no doubts that she saw Him in her dream, before her eyes continued to stand His image, brought to life by this dream. She could almost see the sparkle in His brown eyes, watched His tousled hair flutter in the wind... In the feebleness dropping her head on knees, girlie barely audibly whispered His name.

But then she heard a knock on the bedroom door. At first she did not attach any importance to this, but when it repeated itself, lass jumped to her feet and headed for the door, straightening her long hair as she went. Opening the door, she stepped aside to let her mother in, who was wearing a light blue velvet bathrobe.

The woman looked tired. Entering her daughter's bedroom, she stopped by the bed and turned to little girl, who, looking straight ahead, continued to stand silently at the door. Finally, the silence of the bedroom was broken by the voice of the mother:

- I heard you scream, - there was concern in her voice.

The girl looked away from the carpet lying on the floor of the bedroom and looked up at her mother with her dark, shining eyes. She saw that her daughter's whole body was tense- It was clear, that the girl did not expect this night visit and she did not like the presence of her mother in her bedroom. The mother carefully looked at her daughter's face and only now noticed that the baby's eyes were red from tears.

- Were you crying? - in a worried tone, the mother asked her.

Daughter did not answer her, continuing to look at her attentively and expectantly, shifting slightly from foot to foot. Then the mother turned to her daughter again:

- What are you afraid of? I'm right next to you. Tell me, I'll completely understand...

It seemed that up to this moment the mother’s words had not reached the consciousness of the girl, and only after this phrase did she begin to understand little by little what exactly she wanted from her. The girl relaxed a little and closed her eyes. After two seconds, she sighed and opened them.

- I think ajussi Jo is unhappy, - she said softly. - I even heard him moan...

After these words, a small tear rolled down her cheek. Wiping it with her palm, the girl brushed a strand of black hair out of her face.

- Dearie, - mother began, - don't you cry...
- I'm not crying, - her daughter objected with a decisive note in her voice.

The girl's face became serious. Angrily stamping his little foot, she walked over to the bed and resolutely sat down on its edge. The mother moved mechanically to make room for daughter. Dangling her bare feet to the floor, the girl looked up at her.

- Mommy, why do you keep lying to me? - and, without waiting for an answer, explained. - About ajussi Jo?

Instead of answering, the mother grabbed the baby by the shoulders and pulled him to her. The girl obediently clung to her, hiding her face in the folds of maternal bathrobe. For a while, both were silent, then, after a couple of minutes, the mother released her daughter from her arms.

- When will you understand, - woman said confused, - that he died?

Wiping her hands on clothes, she made her way to the exit. Daughter continued to sit on the bed, looking after her with some displeasure. Mother, stepping over the threshold, finally turned her head to her.

- Remember, ajussi Jo is just doesn't exist in this world, and that's it, - she said instructively.
- Well, mom... - the girl answered with obvious resentment.
- Go to bed already, dearie, - woman realized that it was pointless to argue on this subject.

The girl lay down on her back and pulled the blanket over her. The mother watched her daughter settle into bed, and when she finally turned her face to the wall, the woman sighed softly and left the room, closing the door behind her. As her footsteps faded into the corridor, baby girl slowly lifted her head from the pillow and listened. After making sure that there was complete silence in the house, she threw off the blanket and lowered her legs to the floor.

Getting out of bed, she lowered her eyes - her long chemise went down almost to her ankles, why her soft pink feet stood out so much against the background of white clothes and a fluffy carpet, covering the bedroom floor. She looked a little more closely and noticed a small red bump on her left foot - apparently a mosquito bit her while sleeping. But now the girl was worried about completely different things.

Slowly moving her bare feet across the soft carpet, she went to the window and, lifting the thick velvet curtains, looked at the shutters. They were tightly closed on the latch - that was the precautionary of the parents, who feared that in the countryside at night all sorts of bad people, which do not feed bread, but let them get into someone else’s house through the window.

The funny thing is that when their family lived in an apartment building in New York, where the girl's parents calmly left the windows open at night. Such a sudden change in their behavior could not help but make their daughter laugh, and even now, on this night, she could not help but laugh, trying, however, not to wake them up.

Coping with a momentary bout of gaiety, the girl pulled herself together and reached for the latch. Before pushing her away, she glanced back over - is anyone watching her, but there was no one in the bedroom except herself. It was understandable - if someone entered the room, the girl would hear the creak of the door and footsteps behind her. She turned her head to the window and pushed the bolt aside. Trying to make as little noise as possible, baby girl grabbed the window handle and pulled it towards her.

The window opened with a slight creak, and the girl involuntarily drew her head into her shoulders. The wind immediately rushed into her bedroom, which brought with it an indescribable smell of night air. The girl opened the other half of the window and climbed onto the windowsill. Sitting on him, she folded her hands on her stomach and stretched her legs forward. The cold forced her to shrink, which gave her whole posture a touching and defenseless expression.

At the window, lass felt completely safe, and she immediately surrendered to the power of the night wind, which gently stirred her long dark hair. The bright light of the full moon, which stood high in the sky, fell on her small, pale face. The sight of this night luminary filled her soul with such inexpressible happiness that lightness reigned in soul, and she soon forgot that her actions could attract the attention of her mother.

Despite the fact that the bright light of the moon blinded her eyes and deprived her of the ability to distinguish silhouettes in the dark, the girl still felt that the night world around her was full of mystery and magic. Please, do not think that she saw some ridiculous "fabulous" creatures and gray-bearded wizards with "magic wands" on the street.

In the understanding of this girl, magic was expressed not in these nonsense, but in a breathtaking feeling of complete comfort and euphoria, when all adversity disappears and in their place comes the realization of how much you love the whole world, which, however, did not prevent her from remembering the actions of some people, unpleasant for her, but this was not her fault, for such is human nature - love for all mankind always goes hand in hand with intolerance of individual personalities!

In this case, it was the parents of the girl - she could never forgive them for their lie, which was, that if believe their words, then her friend ajussi Jo went to another world. There was no way the child could check whether this was really so, but she had no reason to believe the word of her mother and father, who, since the day Jo disappeared, began to answer her every question regarding his person with the same "Jo's dead".

Sometimes the father, who worked as a pharmaceutist at the center, explained to his daughter that Joe's death was the result of the formation of some kind of metastases in his organism, but explanations of this kind only instilled in the girl the confidence that her parents were just trying to mess with her mind. Now, sitting alone on the windowsill, the girl could think about it calmly, without fear of the intervention of her parents, who, with their reproaches, did not allow her to concentrate on the thoughts that had been crowding in her head all this time. What actually happened to her adult friend and mentor?

The night gave the lass peace and a sense of appeasement. She stopped feeling the cold breeze that ruffled her hair and chilled her back, and even ceased to hearing any sounds - of all five of her senses, only her eyesight allowed her to somehow navigate in space. But at the same time, the baby did not experience any discomfort or anxiety, because time stood still for her and before her mind, as if on a fast rewind, ran through the memories of past events that the girl experienced with ajussi Jo - one could even say that they were all devoted only to his tender image.

The girl was outstanded at how this man did not fit with the contemporary world of both of them, and at times it seemed to her that the very fact of Joe's existence was a curious deviation from the norms of pedagogy and education. She thought so, based on his own words. - "The Mother sways the dominion of The Heart, The Father that’of The Intellect, but if The Сhild has no Fatherly Support, then its Heart will prevail over its Intellect and he will be moved only by Emotional Impulses, without any Logical Principles". Baby did not understand a single word of what he meant by this, but knowledge of one fact from his biography could well serve as a simple explanation for his behavior...

The fact was that, as the girl knew, her friend Jordan Thurlow grew up without a father from infancy - his mother was single-handedly raising him. There is no doubt that such a circumstance left an imprint on the spirit of this person. As he often told his little friend, Jo never knew what he wanted from life in general and from people in particular. In addition, he once confessed to her that before they met, he lived alone in their own world, and only when the girl moved with her family from New York to Portland, Jo's interest in life awakened.

But could this be true, or was Jo keeping something back to the child? How could a little girl in a few days change the life of a man whom she had never seen before her eight years of age? With what efforts did she manage to make this lost man happy? There was nothing unusual about her behavior - she was the most ordinary child, moderately humble and moderately snooty. She just loved the life, enjoyed it and willingly shared her joy with others. As a rule, for all other adults, she didn't even exist, of course, with the exception of her parents, as well as teachers, who, according to the duty of the profession, were obliged to keep any child in their sight.

So what was it about her that she suddenly captured the soul of this man and, without any exaggeration, turned his life upside down, made him become completely different? The only real reason for this was only the fact that they lived next door, and everything else was just a consequence, like everything related to her fate - just a coincidence. There was no other rational explanation and could not be. It is amazing how little it takes for a soul to turn over in a person in such a short time...

Sitting on the windowsill, the girl looked at the moon without taking her eyes off, not fully realizing that she was so attracted to this night luminary. Slightly straightening her slender shoulders, she threw her head back, causing her mouth to open a little involuntarily, and the moonlight fell on her snow-white teeth that protruded rather forward.

It seemed a bit more, and a little bird would fly out of her childish mouths, which would immediately fall off her thin lips and fly up to the very sky. But, of course, nothing of the kind happened, but the girl's thoughts took a different direction - Fragments of memories flashed before her inner gaze, merged into a bright and vivid picture. It seemed to her as if she was re-experiencing what she had witnessed recently...

***

So, one warm day of September, she is sitting in her room and is concentrating on her lessons. Missis Hallahan, her schoolteacher, required her to memorize a verse by tomorrow, but the girl couldn't handle it, because thoughts that were not related to the classes crowded in her head. The girl turned the pages of the textbook and read line by line, and then forced herself to repeat them from memory, but alas, the words of the verse are immediately forgotten and faded from memory, no matter how hard she tried.

In the midst of this activity she heard the sound of door opening. The girl looked up from her textbook and, without rising from her chair, turned her head back - on the threshold of room stood her mother, dressed in a house dress of red silk, over which was tied a white apron with a fresh soup stain, indicating that she had just left the stove.

- Dearie, go for lunch! - cheerfully winked at her, mother called.
- But... - girl blinked in confusion. - I have homework in literature...

As if fearing that her mother would not believe her, lass took the textbook in her hands and lifted it above her head, hoping that she would be convinced of the correctness of her words. But mommy just smiled to answer.

- Your lessons can wait, and my soup is getting cold! - she said in the same playful mood.

After that, the woman turned around and went into the dining room. Little girl put the textbook back on the table, and, getting up from the chair, slowly followed her. After walking down the corridor, they went down the stairs to the first floor and entered the dining room. - a large bright room, in the center of which stood a long table, at the head of which was already the head of the family. Seeing his beloved daughter, he affably waved his hand to her.

- Finally, sweetie! I was tired of waiting! - he announced loudly to emphasize his joy.

Then he nodded to his wife, who meanwhile went to the stove and, putting on kitchen gloves, picked up a large pot, from which thick white steam was pouring out. The girl hesitated on the threshold and looked inquiringly at her daddy, who winked at her reassuringly. Then she came closer to the table and sat down on a chair that stood on the left hand of his hand - which was supposed to symbolize that the daughter is the heart of her father. The mother was already placing deep faience plates on the table, from which came the appetizing smell of Sopa de legumes - lass' favorite food, which the matriarch of the family usually cooked on holidays.

At the end of these preparations, the woman sat down on the right hand of her husband and they both turned their eyes to the daughter. A happy smile played on her pretty face - little girl, having already forgotten about the lessons, prepared to start the meal. Furrowing his thick brows slightly, the father raised his hand, calling everyone present to attention. The girl and her mother immediately froze in expectant poses, and silence reigned in the dining room. The man looked at his spouse, who, without saying a word, nodded in the affirmative. Then head of household turned his gaze to his daughter, who looked at him with her large innocent eyes, waiting for his words. Coughing into his fist, he collected his thoughts.

- So, - surveying his family with a serious look, he solemnly began. - What should be done before meals?

He made a short - just eight seconds - pause. Both of his women - one younger, the other older - silently waited for the continuation of his speech.

- Right, - he said, raising his finger. - We need to giving thanks and praise the Lord. For what? - pausing again, the father looked expectantly at his daughter.

The girl did not take her eyes off her daddy's face. Her shoulders, hidden under a light brown cardigan, slightly trembling with excitement. She knew full well that this rhetorical question (to which it was forbidden to answer) would now be followed by a long and boring explanation, which she will be obliged to listen with all possible attention, even if she had heard that speech hundreds of thousands of times before. Therefore, the girl resigned herself to the fact that she would have to wait with Sopa de legumes - after all, it was a tradition that she could not and did not want to go against.

- Well, because, - her father began, - if a human takes the gifts of God without gratitude, he is likened to a pig that shamelessly pounces on everything indiscriminately and devours what it thinks is tasty. But we are not pigs! - at the same time, the father raised his voice a little, - we are humans, we unbecoming to be animals. We must understand who we are and why we came into this world. Humans should know that their every earthly activity is a manifestation of their love for Lord. God was merciful - he sends us food so that our soul can grow in the knowledge of the higher will.

Head of the family took a breath and in the heat of the moment struck himself with his mighty fist on his broad chest.

- This means, that we should accept the food given to us by the Lord with a sense of gratitude, - he finally finished.

By the end of the speech, the father leaned back in his chair and with interest looked around people sitting around a dinner table. The girl sat with downcast eyes - from the side she seemed calm, but in fact her daddy's booming and booming voice continued to stand in her ears. The father took his eyes off his daughter and directed him somewhere to the corner of the dining room, where there was a large sideboard, all the shelves of which were lined with rich service. Soon his face took on a peaceful expression, and he again turned his gaze forward.

- Well, let's get started, - he meant not food, as it might seem, but the short grace that followed his long speech.

With these words, the father lowered his elbows on the table, and his wife also followed suit. The girl raised her head - both parents watched her closely, reproach was read in their eyes. Lass knew perfectly well the reason for their discontent - the tradition of reading a prayer before meals was always strictly observed in their family, and anyone who tried to break this rule had a hard time.

The girl still remembers, once upon a time, when she was just five years old, at dinner, she capriciously told her father that she allegedly forgot the grace's words - so much she wanted to eat that June day. She didn't expect at all, that from these words the face of the pope will be filled with blood and distorted in a terrible grimace. Five-year-old girl pretended that his anger passed her attention and began to eat baked potatoes, but the poor little soul did not manage to dine.

In the next second, the father got up from his seat and, stamping his feet loudly, went up to his daughter and forcefully put forward the chair on which she was sitting. This, of course, was followed by the little girl's cries of displeasure, accompanied by tears, to which the father answered only with furious "You will sleep without supper!", and then he ordered his wife to take their girl to the bedroom, to which she agreed without further ado - which the daughter regarded as a betrayal.

And since then, every time before a meal, the father said that they need to read a grace, that scene replayed in her head - and she again heard her own weeping, saw her father's face contorted with anger and her mother's completely calm and indifferent face... Confused, the girl twitched her whole little body.

- Forgive me, - she whispered softly.

Then, gathering up the courage, she cast a quick glance out the window, beyond which the September sun still shone. A bright light hit her eyes and blinded her for a moment, and the next second the girl raised her hands from under the table, resting her elbows on the white tablecloth. At the same time, the sleeves of her cardigan slid down slightly, revealing to everyone around the pale skin of her delicate forearms. If the sun had not shone so brightly at that moment, then this would probably have passed by the attention of parents, but they could not fail to notice how the glare of the sun fell on her tender hands.

The father immediately looked away so as not to embarrass his daughter and stared at his plate. Mother, on the contrary, could not stand it and furtively glanced at little girl, who, meanwhile, folded her fragile hands in front of her clean face, as if trying to hide the shame that gripped her. In fact, she just began to read the grace, what calmed her daddy, who, out of respect for tradition, did not dare to break the silence, but up to that moment, a slight irritation caused by her slowness and unhurriedness was clearly visible in his eyes.

The girl closed her eyelids and the view of the brightly lit dining room instantly gave way to complete darkness. It seemed to her that for a few moments she was transported into a boundless void, but the quiet whisper of the parents, who had already begun to utter the words of the grace, brought her back to reality. Then lass took a deep breath, concentrated on the pleasant warmth of her palms and, trying not to raise her voice, began to quietly read grace - as she remembered it.

- Come, Lord Jesus... - she whispered her first words, pronouncing them a little slower than necessary so as not to accidentally make a mistake.

However, while reading a prayer, she had something completely different in her thoughts - girlie imagined that she was seeing ajussi Jo in front of her, with a sad look looking at her from the darkness. His closed lips seemed to ask her some question, and she guessed what he wanted to ask her - she felt what he was feeling now, what desperate pain tormented him.

"As your life?", the girl turned to him. "I know that you are suffering, and I am not happy here without you either.I understand that from now on we will never be together. But still tell me, where are you now?". Alas, there was no answer - her adult friend only breathed deeply through clenched teeth from suffering, and tightly pressed to his chest a bouquet of dahlias dried up from time to time, which she loved so much in absentia, never holding them in her hands.

- ...be our Guest... - meanwhile lass did not forget to read grace, sitting at the dinner table with their parents.

"Silence won't help", she continued to carry on a dialogue with her friend. "Please understand how hard it is for me, when I don't understand what's really going on with you... You are not dead, I know it very well - you were isolated because of me because I broke the rules of this world... But I want to know exactly where you are being hidden from me". Jo was still silent, but the girl saw how the corners of his mouth drooped sadly and a tear rolled down his unshaven cheek.

- ..and let Thy gifts... - little girl continued to read the prayer, feeling the dryness of her lips. In addition, she felt someone's eyes on her face, who carefully examined her, but she did not attach any importance to this, because grace required complete concentration.

"It's no good move on your side", with some reproach she turned to Jo. "You disappeared so suddenly, that I did not even have time to come to terms with the thought, that now I have to live without your tales, advices and understanding. It's a pity I didn't get to know what exactly was the reason that you disappeared. I think stupid adults are to blame here - it was they who made a villain out of you, without even really understanding what you really are... Or maybe they realized how insignificant their knowledge is compared to yours, and they decided to get rid of you". After these words, girl saw Jo smile weakly and slightly nod in response to her - apparently he was satisfied with what she was talking about, but still not a word escaped his lips.

- ...to us be blessed. Amen, - reading the last words of grace, the girl was in no hurry to open her eyes - she wanted to talk a little more with Jo, even if only in her imagination.

"Ah, ajussi Jo", she said desperately, "Tell me for God's sake, why did life make me go across the spiral of fate? What did I do to you, why did you leave me all alone, without saying a single word goodbye? And now you're making me ignorant of your real location? Because if you would only tell me where you are, I immediately calmed my heart and reconciled with your loss".

Jo kept standing in his place, and the wind ruffled his disheveled hair. The girl noticed how, in response to her words, a guilty expression appeared on his face, which could mean that he is going through an internal struggle - give in to the plea of a young friend or not. "Tell me where are you now, please!", she asked plaintively. And suddenly Jo swung and with all his might threw in her direction a bouquet of dahlias, who had previously held. Lass stretched her arms forward to catch the flowers, but the next second she felt a hand on her shoulder...

It was not a mental sensation - someone really took her by the shoulder. The girl opened her eyes with some difficulty - she was still sitting at the dinner table, on which were plates with a variety of food, a kettle and several cups. She slowly turned her head in the direction from which the feeling of touch came, and saw that her mother was standing right in front of her chair. Little girl immediately noticed that her face was pale and her eyes were in tears.

- Mommy, why are you sad? - asked the girl, continuing to hold her hands in shape like a boat.

Instead of answering, woman looked down at the floor and sobbed softly. For a while, the girl watched her closely, but still couldn't bring herself to even relax her hands. Meanwhile, the mother raised her head and looked at her daughter - there were still tears in her eyes and her breathing was heavy and ragged.

She didn't move for a while, but then, taking a few hesitant steps towards the little girl, immediately sank down, right on the tender knees of her daughter. As soon as the mother's head found footing, she immediately burst into tears, and the daughter felt her body tremble in time with her sobs. The girl could not understand what was happening to her mother and what made her cry so much

Still holding hands in prayer position, she turned her head towards her father. He sat on a chair at the head of the table and looked at her intently, leaning head on right shoulder. One of his hands rested on the back of a chair, and the other he was clutching a spoon, although there was nothing on the plate in front of him, except for a tiny puddle of freshly eaten Sopa de legumes. Noticing that his daughter was looking at him, the corners of his mouth turned up a little, but instead of smiling, he just shook his head sadly.

- Darling... - he said uncertainly, swallowing saliva. - I don't even know how to tell you this...

Halting mid-sentence, the father took his eyes off the baby and stared at the table, clearly trying to collect his thoughts. A tense silence reigned in the dining room, and only the sobs of the mother from time to time broke it. Narrowing her eyes, the girl continued to look at daddy, trying to figure out what's on his mind, but the head of the family remained silent, as if afraid to say something that would offend her childish heart. She shifted her gaze to the plate full of soup in front of her - fragrant steam no longer rose from there. The next second, from the opposite end of the table, her father's insinuating cough reached her ears. Turning to him, the girl saw him pass his hand over his forehead and brush back his grey hair.

- I can understand, - he began, swaying forward slightly, causing the chair beneath him to creak, - that we brought you up in a religious atmosphere and therefore it is not surprising, that you are serious about what my mother and I taught you and the problems of faith and devotion to God occupy a significant place in your life, - at these words, the father coughed and reached for the teapot that stood on the table.

The girl experienced some strange mixture of shame and pity for her daddy. She found the strength to part her palms and place her hands on the table in front of her, with a sense of satisfaction noticing that her mother finally stopped sobbing and removed her head from her lap. At this time, the father had already poured himself tea and, lifting the cup to his lips, looked at his daughter.

- But this does not mean, - he said, taking a sip, - that the issue of religion is the only problem in our lives. There are many other things that...
- Daddy, what the problem is? - wrinkling her delicate nose, girl interrupted him.

Probably she did not calculate her strength, because after her words, the father choked on tea and almost dropped the cup from his hands. For a few seconds he coughed loudly, trying to compose himself. The girl saw her father's wrinkled face flush with blood, and sweat appeared on his forehead. Finally, the head of the family got over a fit of coughing and, wiping the drops of tea that fell on his clothes, he turned to the girl.

- I will be very brief, - he spoke after some silence. - Your mother and I gave praise to the Lord and began to meal, and you, dear, continued to sit in prayerful ecstasy and did not react to anything, even on my words, so my mother and I were afraid that you had a internal bleeding, - daddy said this in a very serious and preoccupied tone.

The girl was confused by her father's speech - she still could not understand what happened in the dining room while she was praying, and only the cold soup in her plate silently testified that she had not started eating for a very long time. Gathered in spirit, daughter raised a pleading look at her father, as if asking if he was lying, but he only smiled sadly at her and shook his head. Lass looked at her mother, who, pressing her hands to her face, shuffled uncertainly as she made her way out of the dining room.

She wanted to get up from the table to catch up with her mother and calm her down, when suddenly the head of the family, noisily pushing back his chair, got up from his seat and went up to her. He put his heavy and hot hand on her skinny shoulders, and his face was right next to hers. The girl flinched slightly, but did not move away - that would have been a sign of disrespect. Father's mouth twisted slightly into a smile, and his small senile eyes narrowed a little.

- Sweetie, - at these words, she felt an unpleasant smell from his mouth, - don't worry, I'll take care of mommy myself. You eat better, otherwise all skin and bones.

Daddy not viciously pinched his cute child for chubby cheek, why did daughter twitch slightly in her seat. Then he straightened his back and winked slyly at her, as if making it clear that there is nothing terrible in what happened. Then he came to the door, but before he left the dining room he turned on his heels and said:

- If the soup is too cold, you can heat it up on the stove, you're not a little kid. Bye-bye!

The door slammed shut behind him, and the girl took a breath - finally silence reigned in the room. Without looking around anymore, she took the spoon in her right hand and scooped some Sopa de legumes from the plate. Raising it to her lips, the girl almost dropped the spoon on the table, but still managed to calm the trembling in her hand and not spill the soup on the tablecloth. After tasting the food, she noticed with displeasure that soup could not be called tasty when cold.

She put down the cutlery and, getting up from the table, picked up a plate and went to the opposite end of the dining room, where the white marble counter top stood. The girl poured the contents of the plate into a small aluminum saucepan, standing on the stove and placing an empty plate next to, picked up a red petrol lighter and clicked it. A thick blue fire flared under the saucepan, and the girl placed her lighter on the marble counter next to her plate.

She stood for a while, looking at the blue ring of fire, then she turned and went to the window. Pushing back the white nylon curtain, she looked out into the street, but there was nothing of interest there. After standing like this for a couple of minutes, she returned to the stove again, noticing the steam rising from the soup. The girl put on kitchen mittens and, carefully grasping the handle of the saucepan, poured the gurgling soup into a plate. Carrying it to the table, she sat down on a chair, pulled the plate towards her and began to eat. "Now that's another matter", she thought, swallowing Sopa de legumes with gusto.

***

The memory of mom's soup involuntarily aroused the girl's appetite - she clearly felt this pleasant taste on her tongue, as if she really ate this soup, and not just remembered it. Continuing to sit on the windowsill, she thought that it would be nice to run to the kitchen now and get something from the refrigerator - she suddenly wanted to eat.

It contained, she remembered, a can of tuna in oil, a piece of goat cheese, a pack of saltine crackers, a carton of milk, and a plastic container of chicken eggs. The girl knew that her mother did not like to indulge her family with sweets, although on summer days she gave her the opportunity to eat minty tats, which she reluctantly bought for her as a favor. Anything sweeter than them was banned.

Ironically, the girl recalled that before her mother delighted the whole family with the most beautiful eclairs, sweet cakes and shortbread cookies she loved so much, but it's all in the past - the last time my mother baked was exactly two years ago, since then, she has not cooked any desserts, only meat, fish, soups and salads.

It seemed that the mother deliberately stopped cooking sweets so as not to evoke associations with ajussi Jo in her daughter - at least that's what the girl thought. What was the true state of affairs, was known only to higher powers, who did not care about her whole family and the baby in particular. The girl considered this situation unfair, but what could she do?

Thinking about food, the girl swallowed her saliva and looked away from the night sky. However, as soon as she looked at the door of her bedroom, two conflicting feelings immediately began to torment her: on the one hand she wanted to eat, and at the same time she did not want to wake her mother. In the end, she still abandoned the idea of stuffing her insatiable belly and remained sitting on the windowsill, pressed against the wall.

The moon shone calmly in the night sky and its light emphasized the contours of the trees growing behind the fence. Lass shuddered involuntarily when some nocturnal bird suddenly fell from a branch and with a piercing cry flew very close to her. After seeing her look, she looked at her hands - her untanned skin looked completely white under the moonlight, because of which they merged with her chemise, making her look like a ancient statue of some Greek goddess. Raising her eyes, she froze, looking into the night sky, and her long black hair fell loose over her shoulders. She again plunged into her thoughts, not noticing, than the wind blowing from the direction of the forest plays with her hair.

Concentrating in your thoughts on Jo, the girl could not help remembering how her mother had changed her attitude towards this man. When their family first moved to the Parkrose Neighborhood, she gladly struck up an acquaintance with a neighbour and herself, on her own initiative, dragged her daughter to visit him. The girl, of course, saw this man on the street before that evening, and they even met their eyes then, but really, it was not destined by fate and it could not even be called love at first sight - it's just that she, being a child of eight years old, settled down in a new place and with curiosity studied what surrounded her, including people.

Most of all, the girl was upset by how hypocritically her mommy behaved - at first she chatted merrily with her neighbour, went to visit him and walked with him around the village and in the forest, but it cost her one day to find some kind of stain in the little girl's underwear (mother did not explain anything to her daughter about this.), how Jo went missing the very next day, and her mommy with daddy began to speak of him in such terms, that it became quite clear to the little one: her parents specially exhibited Joe in the darkest colours, so that she forgets to think about him. Of course, such imprudent tactics only aggravated the fact that the girl began to think about this man almost every hour - in any case, not a day passed when she did not think about his dog, his books, quoted his great gems and so on.

If at first it was just a child's reaction to a sudden separation from an interesting interlocutor, then over time, in the eyes of the girl, the image of Jo became something of an ideal, pure and holy - almost everything connected with this person acquired nearly religious meaning for her. In addition, along with the personality of Jo, lass borrowed his outlook on things, a taste for literature and, most importantly, an interest in intellectual conversations. Who knows, maybe all this was inherent in the girl from birth, and that Portland's resident just helped her reveal her identity? In any case, this move from the metropolis to the suburbs changed the girl forever - she has become much more educated and refined in nature than before, and no longer looked like a little impudent and rascal - rather like a sweet, kind and shy child.

Be that as it may, the hypocrisy of her parents revolted her to the marrow of soul's deeps, and their constant lies constantly pissed off the girl, although in fact she herself was the initiator of this, because she always asked them about Jo, which I kept drawing in her mind...

There was a vivid memory of once ajussi Jo said a word that the twenty-fourth of August for him is connected with the day of his mother's death, and therefore he would like to pay tribute to the deceased and visit her grave. Little girl perfectly remembered the moment when her own mother gladly responded to the request of a neighbour, and in the morning of that date she woke her daughter as early as possible, so that they could make all the necessary preparations - first they had a quick breakfast, and then they began to dressing.

- Listen, Delia, - mother said cheerfully, trying on daughter a new sundress in front of the mirror. - This year, for your birthday, dad and I will prepare an unusual present for you. I'm sure, that will appeal to you.
- What kind of present, mommy? - asked the girl, who was already impatient to leave the home.
- The one you don't even know about, - mysteriously mother smiled and immediately changed the subject. - Look at yourself in the mirror, dearie! Você é incrivelmente incrível! - she exclaimed in Portuguese.

Delia obediently stared at her reflection. Indeed, the sundress was her face - light, in coffee with pink colours, with short sleeves and embroidery in the form of a rose on the chest. White openwork ribbon encircling the waist gave the whole figure of the baby girl a touching fragility. Delia couldn't take her eyes off the mirror, and a slight blush broke out on her cheeks. Mother, who stood behind her, smiled sweetly.

- Here, take it, - she suddenly thrust a bunch of forget-me-nots into the girl's hands.
- Why? I didn't... - tearing her eyes away from her reflection, Delia asked in an uncomprehending tone.
- Don't argue with me, - woman raised an eyebrow. - We are going to the burial grounds, you forgot?

At the word "the burial grounds" the girl lost heart for a moment and her face turned slightly pale, but after a second her good mood returned - she remembered that they would not go alone, but accompanied by ajussi Jo.

- What should I do with it, mommy? - she asked, looking at the bunch of flowers.
- You'll have to put them on the grave of Jo's late mom... - mother began to explain.
- What's that got to do? - her daughter interrupted somewhat harshly.

Woman was taken aback for a moment - it seemed that she would never get used to the fact that her daughter, like all children, asks adults tricky questions. However, she immediately pulled herself together and smiled good-naturedly at the baby.

- When you lay flowers, - she began, - then in the next world, the souls of your grandma and grandpa will be with the soul of Jo's mother for all eternity to protect her and take care of her well-being.

Having finished the speech, the mother, without waiting for an answer, put her hand on daughter's shoulder and led her to the exit. Delia obediently walked ahead, trying not to drop the forget-me-nots from the hands. Her mother followed her, adjusting her already perfectly fitted hat as she went. So they reached the home's entrance door, climbed the porch and found themselves on the street. Delia looked back, but mommy silently pushed her forward. They left the gate and walked along the fence that surrounded their site. When she reached neighbour's wicket, mother stopped and pressed the bell.

At that very moment, the barking of Buffalo - he-dog of ajussi Jo, reached Delia's ears. Baby girl heard him jumping around the yard and throwing himself at the fence, as if trying to climb over it. She knew well that the dog would not touch her, but she still had some fear of Buffalo, so Delia involuntarily stood behind her mother and, covering her face with a bunch, pulled her little head into her shoulders. Mother, sensing her daughter's fear, soothingly stroked her thick black hair.

After a few minutes of waiting, the wicket opened, and ran out into the street with a fussy step the tall and slender young man in a strict black suit, white shirt and jacquard tie. His face had a slightly frightened and even guilty expression - no one could understand why.

- Ajussi Jo! - not hiding her joy, Delia screamed and jumping out from behind her mother.

Man glanced at the girl, as if in disbelief, then glanced at her mother, then quickly grabbed the handle of the wicket - Buffalo was already preparing to jump out after his owner. The heavy wooden door slammed shut in front of the dog's nose, and ajussi Jo, taking the keys from his jacket pocket, began to lock the wicket. Delia silently watched the dexterous movements of the man's somewhat nervous hands. When he finally mastered the lock, the girl suddenly had an unbearable desire for him to take her in his arms, and with the thought of this, she approached him and stretched out her hands, but Jo suddenly drew back from the girl.

- Sorry madam, - he called to her mother, - what made you wait!

Delia, frozen in one place with a bouquet of forget-me-nots in her hands, didn't know how should she be. She was somewhat offended by the fact that ajussi Jo, in relation to her, pretended to be untouchable, as if she were not a person, but some annoying insect. It didn't occur to her that this detachment was due to societal norms that a man should not show interest in little girls - at least in terms of physical contacts, as for simple, oral communication, there was not a single unambiguous answer to this question.

Meanwhile, ajussi Jo put the wicket's keys in his pocket and, turning to the mother and daughter, nodded amiably to them, as if he had just remembered their existence. Delia did not return his greeting, but her mother laughed and offered her hand to the neighbor. Baby girl was a little touched by the way ajussi Jo cordially greeted her mommy, but she never knew if it was just politeness or something else. In any case, she had no reason to be offended, because it was her own fault that she rushed headlong to meet him.

For a second she thought of her dad, who, if he happened to be a witness to this spectacle, would certainly have attacked ajussi Jo with his fists. A chill ran down her back, but Delia was immediately ashamed of her thoughts, considering them bad omens. In addition, she, being the faithful descendant of her family, never allowed herself - at least she tried - to think badly about her father. Delia believed that daddy would never fight over trifles, especially with his neighbour.

After shaking hands, the adults headed down the road to the burial grounds. Delia, slightly offended by the fact that no one paid any attention to her, tightened her grip on the bunch of forget-me-nots in her hand and followed them. Ajussi Jo walked slowly, shifting his legs gracefully and hardly looking around, which is why his whole appearance seemed to tell those around him that he was in sorrow and that the fun of worldly fuss did not extend to him.

Delia's mother, on the other hand, moved quickly and energetically, gesticulating vividly and slightly swaying her rounded hips, hidden under the black fabric of a silk dress. She did not seem to feel any remorse for her frivolous behavior, inappropriate at such a solemn hour. It seemed that the fact that they were on their way to the last asylum for the dead was just an occasion for a heart-to-heart conversation for her.

The subject of conversation between adults was, as it was not difficult to guess, the person of ajussi Jo himself - all the way, mom constantly turned to him with some thoughtless questions, to which the man answered with great willingness. The sound of his voice gave Delia an unexpected warm feeling towards him. There was something about him that no other man she knew had - neither her old father, whom she had known since childhood, nor any of his acquaintances. Maybe it was ajussi Jo's touching feigned impotence, or maybe it was his boyish shyness - from his appearance it was possible to conclude that he seemed to be embarrassed to reveal his true self in front of those around him.

Ajussi Jo talked to her mother on topics that were boring for little Delia, but nevertheless she listened to him with interest, although she did not understand their meaning.

- Why did you choose such an unprestigious profession? - the woman asked him almost playfully
- After the death of my mother, - the man answered with some sadness, - I needed to pay off her debts. I had to sell almost all of her things, and this was the only income at that evil days.

He sighed. When looking at his face, it became clear that for him it was really the hardest times.

- You did not answer me, - the girl's mother said impatiently, walking quickly beside him.
- Sorry, - he answered softly, stammering. - I don't really want to talk about this topic.
- To me you can open your whole soul as it is, - his interlocutor answered with a smile.
- Well, - ajussi Jo's face seemed to light up. - The fact is that I am a professional procrastinator - in other words, an very lazy person.

Delia couldn't help but chuckle as she followed her adult companions. Perhaps it was bad manners, but she just couldn't help laughing - the word "lazy" was too much to match with ajussi Jo's personality, with his knowledge and manners. Hearing her chuckle, the adults stopped and looked around. The mother carefully looked at her daughter, in her eyes there was bewilderment, mixed with not yet obvious, but still anger. Her daughter felt uncomfortable and smiled guiltily.

- Dearie! - mother said sternly. - You can't laugh at other people’s shortcomings - everyone has them. And, of course, you have no less of them than anyone else.

Delia lowered her eyes. Ajussi Jo realized that something had to be done to ease the awkwardness. He gave the girl a friendly wink and turned to her mother.

- It's okay, madam, - he said in a conciliatory tone, - do not reproach the child for the fact that adult conversations are funny to him. You yourself, probably, behaved in the same way in your youth. It will pass with age.

This speech by ajussi Jo had its effect on Delia's mother, who, after a few moments of hesitation, nodded her head emphatically.

- Well, mister Thurlow, - she said. - Let it be your way.

The girl saw how difficult it really was for her mother to take this step, but she did not begin to feel compassion for her -she was much more touched by ajussi Jo's willingness to do something for her, the little and trusting daughter of a pharmaceutist. On her face, in addition to reciprocal gratitude, a gentle smile appeared, and she looked at the man with her large innocent eyes. Ajussi Jo didn't seem to notice - he just turned and continued on his way to the burial grounds.

- All my adult life I tried to delay the moment, - he continued the dialogue, - when I have to start working for a living. When I was younger, I lamented that society was not able to easily give benefits to everyone and everyone, - At these words, he sighed. - But, as you understand, the cornucopia is just a utopian symbol, and therefore, with a heavy heart, I had to agree with the foundations of our imperfect world.
- Curious, - Delia's mother said thoughtfully, - so are you satisfied with your profession? I know she don't make a lot of money.
- It's not so much about the money, - said ajussi Jo. - I went down the path of a culturologist solely because, so as not to spend a lot of time at work.
- You want to say that even this job exhausts all your strength? - his interlocutor frowned.
- I believe that a person should not live only by labour. I hated the idea of becoming some kind of salesclerk or steward - because others will treat you not as an individual, but only as a screw in a social structure. Such work deprives me of the possibility of self-expression, and my nature does not accept this.
- I would not say that I am satisfied with your outlook on life, - woman said with hidden contempt. - I wonder how your late mother felt about this?
- She wasn't happy with it either, - bowed his head ajussi Jo. - She constantly lamented, seeing how I wasted her money to no purpose. I understood how hard it was for her, because she had to earn a living and my upbringing alone...
- Did you consider yourself not a good son? - Delia's mother interrupted him unexpectedly.
- Hard to give answer, - man shrugged. - I never claimed to be an outstanding person. Parents tend to idealize their children, but the child wants to be himself first and foremost, and I was no exception.
- Oh, those children... - thoughtfully said his interlocutor.

After these words, Delia's mother gave her daughter a look of regret and pity for a moment.

Meanwhile, this trinity had already approached the burial grounds. It was cool under the arches of tall trees that grew near the iron fence, which had darkened with time. Sunlight played on the leaves of old oaks and maples. Every now and then, bird trills were heard to baby girl’s ears, accompanied by a quiet rustle of leaves. The adults passed through the gate and went along a path that ran between even rows of graves and led out to a small area where the roof of a small crypt, surrounded by flowering lilac bushes, shone brightly under the rays of the sun. On its left side stood a tall obelisk of black granite, which stood on a low white pedestal, which made its whole appearance look rather contrasting. In the rays of the morning sun, its shiny surface shone with an incredible brilliance.

Delia, following her companions, looked around with interest. At first she was struck by the harsh beauty of the tombstones, but soon curiosity gave way to another feeling close to melancholy. Undoubtedly, the sight of the tombstones evoked in the girl's soul a strange feeling of false loss - it seemed to her that as soon as she crossed the invisible border that separated the rest of the world from the burial grounds, she immediately felt sorry for everyone and everyone who was buried under heavy granite slabs.

Perhaps it just could be a childish reverence for the last refuge of the dead, but one way or another, kids feel the world around them more keenly than adults, so it was impossible to explain in simple words the strange feelings that gripped Delia at that moment - if only because she herself could not express.

Meanwhile, a procession of two adults and one child approached the desired grave, the stone slab of which was hidden under thickets of weeds - it is obvious that no one cared about the mother of some lorn culturologist. In the midst of them, a simple tombstone made of natural stone with the inscription "Jehanne Thurlow (21 July 1946 - 24 August 1984)" carved on it, against the background of neighboring, neatly cleaned graves, made such a depressing impression that it seemed as if a not poor, humble woman was buried here. a woman, but a vile criminal who was disgusting even in death.

- My Lord! - exclaimed Delia's mother, spreading her arms.
- What's been going on? - rousing himself from his stupor, ajussi Jo asked.
- You didn't follow her grave at all! - the woman answered reproachfully. - When was the last time you went here?

The last words she said, already turned to the man. Delia saw her mother's face glow with such energy, such determination that it was clear - this woman is ready for anything, no matter what the cost. The girl turned her gaze to ajussi Jo, who stood silently, looking ahead of him. His shoulders were relaxed and slumped, as if he was instantly weary of what was happening.

After a moment's pause, Delia's mother suddenly rushed to the grave of Jehanne Thurlow and, grabbing a green weed, pulled it with force. There was a crunch, and clods of earth flew in all directions. Baby girl jumped aside in time, and her sundress remained clean. Her mother continued to vigorously uproot the weeds, while ajussi Jo continued to stand in a relaxed posture and watched in bewilderment. Delia looked sideways at him. She was somewhat embarrassed that the man did not even try to help the woman - to his neighbour and her mother rolled into one!

- Ajussi Jo, - suddenly she said, standing on tiptoe to look into his face. - Help my mom, please! Strong you are, I know...

Her last words made ajussi Jo smile - apparently, it was funny for a grown man to hear a little girl trying to appeal to his strength. Tilting his head slightly to one side (causing his hair to be a little disheveled), he looked down at the girl, and his smile seemed slightly smug.

- You got that right, dearie, - mother's voice rang out.

Jo & Delia turned to her at the same time - she stood by the grave, her face flushed with work expressed mild displeasure. The girl noticed that her mother's black silk dress now had ugly stains from damp earth.

- Mommy, you're all messy! - Delia exclaimed with some dismay.

The mother did not answer her daughter, only looked herself up and down, as if surprised at how she managed to get dirty. It just so happened that she was so passionate about her work that she didn’t pay attention to her appearance at all. The girl turned her gaze to Uncle Joe, who was already rolling up his sleeves, about to take part in cleaning the grave.

- Are not you ashamed, mister Thurlow! - said the woman, straightening her back. - You make me clean up your mother's grave alone, untill yourself...

Then she bit her tongue, realizing, apparently, that it was very risky to talk in such a tone with her little daughter - what if the child picks up rude words and uses them in a conversation with everyone he meets? Meanwhile, ajussi Jo approached the grave with a firm and measured step, unbuttoning his jacket as he went. At the same time, he looked like he was forcibly forced to take up the case. He bent down and began pulling weeds with his bare hands, then his partner followed suit.

Delia, with barely concealed pleasure, watched how the adults worked harmoniously and energetically. Male help was is very rich indeed - in a few minutes, the eyes of all those present began to open up a view of a neat granite slab inlaid with a vine. It turns out that in five years the wind and rains almost did not touch the surface of the stone, except that the dirt slightly stained the exquisite patterns. As soon as all the weeds were pulled out by the joint efforts of Joe and Delia's mother, the girl went to the grave and, bending her knees, began to examine with interest the design made in granite.

Pushing a strand of hair out of her forehead, Delia reached forward with her left hand and gently ran the tip of her index finger over the polished stone, still clutching the bouquet of forget-me-nots she continued to hold in other hand. She heard ajussi Jo's soft sigh and turned her head slightly to look at him. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest and silently looked at the grave. His sad eyes and lowered hands touched baby girl's heart for some reason, and she wanted to say something encouraging to him. But as soon as she began to look for words, the thought suddenly came into her head that it was not worth talking a lot at the grave of the deceased. So Delia contented herself with an innocent shrug and a sweet smile.

Solemn trinity continued to silently look at Jehanne Thurlow's grave, occasionally exchanging glances. Then Delia's mother sighed and, raising her right hand to her face, began to massage the bridge of her nose, and her eyes, as it seemed to the girl, were moistened with tears. Ajussi Jo smiled sheepishly. It was some time before the silence was broken by the mother's voice:

- Delia, do you think Jordan's mom would love to meet you if she were alive? - in a fit of sentimentality, woman asked a rhetorical question.

In the next second, she let her tears flow, and her weeping echoed through the burial grounds. Taken aback, her daughter trembled all over, feeling like she was about to cry too. Resting her feet firmly on the ground, she pressed the bouquet to her chest and froze. Sad thoughts slowly began to enter her mind about how difficult it would be for her if her own parents were gone.

As she knew, human age is short, plus everything a person can be suddenly mortal, and, being just a small child, she was terrified of losing her parents - especially mom, as for her dad, it seemed to Delia, with her little life experience, that with his death, little would change in her life, except that dust would settle in his place in the dining room and because of the closed doors of their living room, the echoes of his heated arguments with her mother would cease to be heard regarding pedagogical and religious views on daughter's upbringing.

Her mother's call snapped her out of these thoughts. Delia looked up and saw that she had already moved away from the grave and was now standing with Uncle Joe on the cobbled path between the burials. When her daughter looked back, the woman waved her hand in the direction of the tombstone.

- Delia, - she repeated, looking attentively at baby girl, - put forget-me-nots at the head and come to us, it's time to go home.

Recovering herself, the girl gave her mother a nod and, rising to her feet, went to the very edge of the grave and, slightly turning the bunch of forget-me-nots in her hands - she really liked these flowers - slowly lowered it onto soft soil, and then taken notice to the adults and looked at them questioningly.

- Right, - mother nodded with a smile on her lips. - And now come to us. Hurry up! - she hurried her daughter, who hesitated indecisively on the spot.

Ajussi Jo, standing a little behind Delia's mother, silently watched everything that was happening. The sad expression disappeared from his face, and now he seemed happy and peaceful, and the clods of dirt on his strict suit gave his appearance a carelessness and some frivolity. Delia felt something stir in her soul as she looked at him, but she couldn't figure out what the feeling was. She went to meet the adults, having managed to wipe her hands on her sundress along the way. This action did not escape the eyes of the mother, who frowned and shook her head reproachfully.

- Dearie, why did you get your clothes dirty? - the woman asked as Delia walked over and stood next to her. - You're not some simpleton, you're a civilized lady!

Taking the girl by the hand, the mother gently squeezed her small hand in hers and led her towards the exit from the burial grounds. Delia obediently followed her, feeling a little uneasy at being so unceremoniously torn away from her sincere and sincere expression of feelings in front of Jehanne Thurlow's grave. Apparently, this feeling was transmitted to her mother, who quickened her pace, so that her daughter had to hurry after her. Soon the feeling of some stiffness passed, and Delia returned to her thoughts.

She believed that the bouquet of forget-me-nots, which she happened to lay today, would lie on the grave for eternity, reminding everyone around how a well-bred young lady paid tribute to the memory of the deceased mother of her spiritual teacher and mentor, thereby expressing her deepest respect to to himself and to all his family. As befits a good little girl, Delia continued to walk beside her mother, but as their procession passed the cemetery fence, she couldn't help but look back and take one last look at grave of ajussi Jo's mother.

What was revealed to the eyes of a little girl shocked her to the core - at the tombstone stood an unfamiliar man in torn clothes, unshaven and with dirty tousled hair sticking out from under his old felt hat. For a few moments it seemed to her that it was some kind of ghost wandering between the graves, but when she looked closer, she realized that it was the most ordinary olden pauper, in appearance very similar to those whom she used to see on the television screen in dull and boring television movies on the urban theme.

Looking furtively around, the man took off his hat and immediately picked up a bunch of forget-me-nots from the ground. It took a lot of effort for Delia to cover her mouth with her hand so as not to scream from the feelings of resentment and childish indignation that captured her. With a whistling exhalation of air, olden pauper, trying as discreetly as possible to put the flowers in the pocket of his bottomless pockets, rushed away. Baby girl followed the man with her eyes until he disappeared behind the building of the crypt.

Forcefully clenching her free hand into a fist, Delia gritted her teeth and took a deep breath. Thoughts about the unworthy behavior of olden pauper did not leave her mind. She asked herself questions from the category "Why did he steal the flowers, intended for the deceased?", "What was he going to do with them?" and so on. For a split second, Delia was seized with a desire to immediately punish the pickfloret, but she suppressed this desire, realizing that there was nothing she could do, and even if she tried, it would look at least stupid, if not risky. Sighing, the girl turned her gaze to her mother, who continued to lead her forward, following ajussi Jo.

Delia felt how the wind, which until then slightly stirred her hair, gradually intensified and now began to blow under her clothes. She shivered from the cold and raised her hand, which had been stiff from lying for a long time, to straighten her chemise. At that moment, it was out of the question to get up from the windowsill and put on something warmer - the girl was so captivated by the sight of the moon, which in the meantime had already begun to run into dark and vague clouds. Delia was in a state where thoughts dominated the desire of her body, and although by nature she was disposed to melancholic reflections, but in a state of prostration like this, she had bothered to fall for the first time in all her ten years.

***

Delia remembered one of her many Sunday trips to the local church, which located not too far from her home, if think about it. The church itself was very beautiful - a brick-lined building with additional stonework, the rounded windows of which indicated that the architect was fond of the Romanesque style. The corner tower with battlements, which towered above the roof of the rest of the church, evoked in Delia pleasant associations with movies about medieval life, and, one might say, gave the girl additional motivation to go to this place (not counting her Lutheran confession, of course).

On that Sunday, the daughter and mother, according to the tradition established in their family, dressed in lace shawls - Delia in lilac, her mom in black - and leaving the house, they soon reached the front doors of the church. That day, Delia was not in a good mood, because before leaving the house she managed to quarrel with her father because he found fault with her drawing of a man with red hair. The main reason was not in the picture itself - who was rough just like others kids her age, but in the fact that the girl signed it with those eight cherished letters that caused unjustified panic and paranoia in her parents and a burst of admiration in Delia herself.

So when father left home for his job, the girl without much interest went to church, without even talking to your mother on the way. True, she, being a witness to the quarrel between her daughter and her husband, in turn, was also not disposed to conduct sincere conversations with the child. When both women finally made it to the church, a sullen feeling of dissatisfaction gradually gave way to inexplicable excitement, and after a few minutes Delia forgot about her family quarrel.

The chain-hung lamps, adorned with beautiful hexagonal shades, glowed with a warm yellow light that reflected off the polished wood of the furniture. The lighting was subdued, as if the church leaders did not want to disturb the solemnity of the moment with the bright light of electric lamps, but this did not prevent the girl from enthusiastically examining the vintage interior of the church, which she had never been particularly interested in before, since church was as much a chore to her as school or the grocery store.

It was immediately evident to her that the interior bore the features of the Gothic style, evidence of which was the ceiling support, carved from oak and spruce planks. They contrasted with the white walls, decorated modestly but tastefully. Paying no attention to the parishioners crowding among the semicircular rows of benches, Delia had set their eyes on the altar, making her face take on a dreamy expression, and strands of thick hair lying on the shoulders were a little disheveled, but from the side it was not noticeable due to the shawl thrown over it.

Worship in the Portland church differed little from a similar procedure, which she observed while living in New York, except that among the parishioners, the number of old people prevailed over middle-aged people, and of the children at the moment there was only one Delia - as if the locals were of the opinion that you should not take your children to church. The girl did not remember how the divine service went, because in her thoughts she was completely absorbed in Jo - it seemed that the solemn atmosphere of this holy place with renewed vigour resurrected the image of this man in her thoughts.

As the congregation began to disperse, the girl's mother gave her a light nudge on the shoulder.

- Dearie, we need to go, - there was weariness in the woman's voice.

Delia, continuing to stand still, only turned her head towards her.

- Mommy, I want to stay here, - she said humbly.

Her mother put her arms around her awkwardly.

- What are you lost here? - woman asked in bewilderment.
- I will stay, - insistently repeated her daughter, turning away from her.
- As you wish, beautiful, - surrendered mother.

With that, she walked out of the church as Delia continued to stare at the carved oak altar.

- I will be waiting for you outside, - her mother's voice reached baby ears.

Convinced that she had left the church, the girl, straightening her shawl, stepped out from behind the rows of wooden benches onto the red-carpeted space in front of the altar, at which at that moment the vicar stood alone, who by appearance could have been forty years old. He was dressed in an impeccable black cassock, and his hair was hidden by a hood of the same colour. The clergyman watched the bustling people who left the church, not even trying to hide the boredom on his face. It seemed that he did not attach any importance to the child, who at that time was approaching him.

Delia, on the contrary, with every step that brought her closer to the altar, felt more and more excited. Her arms were trembling slightly with excitement, so she had to keep them crossed over her chest. She felt the bewildered glances of other parishioners glide over her body, wrapped in a lilac shawl. Coming closer to the vicar, Delia adjusted her veil slightly so that the clergyman could better see her face, and stopped at the foot of the four steps, covered with red velvet carpet

- Good afternoon to you, reverend Wyllys, - softly but firmly said the girl

At the sound of her voice, the vicar visibly shuddered and, gliding over her with an indifferent look, continued to remain silent.

- Allow me to ask you, - Delia continued decisively.

The clergyman turned to her - from the gleam of his eyes it was clear that he was completely in no mood to chat about trifles with juvenile parishioners, even if they were as serious as this one.

- Go with peace, my daughter, - he said with displeasure.
- Can you please... - Delia began, but the vicar interrupted her.
- Worship time is over, you have nothing more to do here, - and the clergyman pointed to the exit.

Such treatment hurt the girl a little, but she did not show it, and only the blush of her cheeks betrayed her annoyance.

- I wanted your advice, reverend Wyllys, - she said firmly, looking into the vicar's face.
- What a naughty gal... - barely audible he whispered. - Go home, my daughter, - said the clergyman, raising his voice.
- I'm not going anywhere, until you answer my question! - stubbornly girl answered him.

Delia couldn't help but lightly stamp her black-shoed foot. This not bad way to express your impatience in the walls of the church looked out of place, but today the girl was determined and therefore allowed herself to break through the rules. In the next second, vicar surrendered to her pressure and, having taken a couple of steps towards her, stopped on the topmost step.

- What's eating you, my daughter? - there was still a note of displeasure in his voice.
- Reverend Wyllys, - Delia began, - I dread to think, but sometimes it seems to me that adults are hiding something from me.

The girl had in mind, of course, the fact that her parents withhold from her everything connected with ajussi Jo. But how was this particular church dignitary to know?

- Don't worry, my daughter, - the vicar answered her. - Parents always do not immediately open the world to their child, for a person must learn it gradually, bit by bit.

Delia did not like the way the clergyman, instead of listening to his interlocutor, immediately began to indulge in spatial speeches that did not at all relate to what she wanted to know now.

- That's not what I meant, reverend Wyllys, - trying to keep a calm tone, she said.

Alas, vicar could not be stopped - It seemed that the question of the young parishioner became a catalyst for his eloquence, and the clergyman was unable to suppress the flow of common truths that fell from his lips on the pharmaceutist's daughter, who was little interested in religious conversations.

- If a man, - said the vicar, raising his finger to the ceiling, - from a young age suddenly learns everything about the world at once, then know, my daughter, that this is from the Evil One, and such a person goes against the commandments of the Lord.

Delia realized that she would again have to go against the rules of good manners in order to force the clergyman to answer the question that had been troubling her for many months. Taking a deep breath, she almost instinctively put her hands on her gentle hips, as her mother liked to do during family quarrels.

- Please listen to me, reverend Wyllys, - Delia said loudly, interrupting the moralizing tirade of the interlocutor. - My parents don't want to talk to me about the person I feel this way that's, uh... - she broke off in mid-sentence.

The girl was embarrassed to talk about ajussi Jo directly - she was tormented by suspicions, what if she told the vicar about her spiritual connection with a grown man, then the clergyman will immediately begin to shower her with reproaches, without even trying to find out what exactly their communication consisted of. Therefore, she had to make an effort to shut up and freeze in the pose of an obedient and submissive the servant of the Lord. Noticing this, the vicar did not reprimand her for misbehaviour and even showed on his face the semblance of a pious smile, which in a second was replaced by the usual expression of calm.

- Things can still work out, my daughter, - the clergyman consoled Delia. - Are you talking about love?

There was a hint of mild interest in the vicar's voice, which gave Delia self-confidence. Nodding her head in agreement at his words, she brushed away the unruly curls that were escaping from under her shawl.

- Reverend Wyllys, I'm living in constant fear, - she spoke cheerfully, - that something bad happened to this person. What should I do?

After these words, the girl fixed her dark eyes on the vicar. Although her question was not quite correctly worded, the tone in which Delia asked it should have served as evidence that the answer to it is really important to her. Alas, the clergyman did not take the child's words seriously - instead, he, without spending a second to think, gave her a condescending smile.

- You love, my daughter, and amour with awe are always alongside, - as if reciting some truism, the vicar said good-naturedly. - Just have faith, hope and wait.

With these words, he turned away from the girl and raised his eyes to hanging over the altar darkened with time round metal plate, decorated with complex patterns, covered in some places with worn gilding. This was to be taken as a sign that their conversation had come to an end. Delia had no choice but to straighten her shawl and head for the exit. The whole figure of the girl spoke of the fact that this dialogue left her in a state of discontent, and now she struggled hard not to voice her disagreement with the clergyman's answer.

Trying to step as slowly as possible on the red carpet spread between the rows of benches, the girl considered to herself that, translated into plain language, the words of the vicar meant, that he was unable to give Delia advice on how to deal with her situation with ajussi Jo. She regretted that she had not spoken directly to the face of the clergyman a quote from a book that she once read with her adult friend. Although it could be called reading with a big stretch, for the girl just sat there listening to ajussi Jo read aloud to his young listener. Specifically, the quote that Delia considered appropriate in this situation was that a certain sage and doctor asked Lord God to destroy the human race, so that he would create more perfect people, but Lord God replied that although he sympathized with the sage, he could not fulfill his request.

It is possible that in fact the dialogue had a completely different meaning, but the girl could not know this, if only because the contents of this book, ajussi Jo had to translate right on the go, for it was written in the German, of which Delia's knowledge was very superficial, to say the least. If the girl could find this book in her own language, then she would doubtless have checked with her and told the vicar exactly what was said in the original, but to her greatest regret, she was prevented from finding an English translation of this book as her parents (who seemed to hate everything about ajussi Jo), and the fact that she could not know the exact name - it was difficult for Delia to remember and pronounce the German words, and a approximate translation of "Is Not An Easy, Being A God" would likely do nothing for bored bookstore vendors.

Therefore, Delia silently walked to the exit, bowing her head. She didn't quote yet because when ajussi Jo finished reading this book, he forbade the girl to quote her right and left. As she thought, the point was that the Lord God described on her pages, was not a gray-haired old person who sat on a cloud and gave orders to angels, but on the contrary, a brave young knight who rode a horse and participated in the squabbles of some medieval town. What's the harm, Delia thought, presenting Lord God as a tough guy?

She remembered how the book described that this Lord God, who, under the guise of a mere mortal, tried to make this world better than it really is, in his travels he fell in love with a woman, but when she was vilely killed, he became furious and made something like Armageddon, only he was wield not some ridiculous fire balls, but a very real knightly sword made of steel, with which he cut his way through the retinue of the treacherous king, and, reaching the last, ended the end of his tyranny. It all ended with the fact that after this event, God himself was taken away by any once of his friends, with whom, walking through the gardens of Eden, he ate strawberries and jokingly frightened those around him with his palms, which were stained with its juice.

But since ajussi Jo said, that other adults will not appreciate such an interpretation of the Lord God out of the mouths of baby girl, then Delia could only held her tongue and just quietly leave the church, having received from the lips of the vicar an answer that explains nothing how her to deal with the situation, when her parents plotted and kept her friend's true fate from her.

***

The memory of the dialogue with the vicar drove Delia into a state close to despair. She took a deep breath, and, straightening her shoulders stiff from the cold, she ran her hand along the cold surface of the window sill. The moon had long been hidden by clouds, and the dampness of the coming bad weather was felt in the night air. The suspicion crept into the girl’s head that it could rain at any moment and she risks getting wet under its jets, but she continued to sit still, throwing a sidelong glance into her room - what if the door opens and her mother or father comes in?

But, much to Delia's happiness, none of her parents entered her bedroom. It was to her liking - now, more than ever, the girl didn't want their presence, for she felt an urgent need to forget them and remember her life up to the today's moment. Calming down, Delia turned her head to the sky and, closing her eyes for a few seconds, tried to put all thoughts of the present out of her mind, so that they do not interfere with focusing on images from the happy moments of her past together with ajussi Jo.

She did not risk getting tired of the painstaking sorting out of her reminiscences and fall into the sleep, because the cold wind blowing from the direction of the forest just did not give her such an opportunity. Unlike New York, where Delia had previously lived with her parents, in Portland there was no need to question the existence of nature around, as often happened to the girl on the streets of the metropolis filled with cars, where any blade of grass, timidly growing in the cracks of the asphalt, seemed to be a symbol of the green world and at the same time the personification of wildlife rolled into one.

***

Images from her and Jordan's very last pastime resurfaced in Delia's mind. It could never be called the date, for in the first place, Delia was too young for that, and secondly, if a date is usually a meeting in private, then this event took place in the company of Jordan's close friend, whom the girl respected in absentia, but never seen before. In her own imagination, the world around Delia was come back through time.

She herself was not in those events - not in the sense that she was not there physically. On the contrary, Delia was directly involved in those incidents. The thing was that her own visual image was missing in the memories, for such a human has not yet been born who could see himself from the outside, without losing the ability to navigate the world around him and evaluate what is happening from the point of view of the first person.

Visit to Jordan's friend was an unexpected surprise for little Delia, which was not included in her plans for the evening of that day. Quite the contrary, by this point she had hinted to ajussi Jo several times, that it is time for her to go home to begin her direct duties of preparing for tomorrow's exam in literature, which all her classmates were waiting with such tension, to say nothing of herself. Her house was very close - literally the next wicket to the right, but Delia couldn't shake the feeling that if she left her neighbour without asking, she would spoil his mood, which she really did not want at all. So she tried to get Jordan to let her go instead of leaving his house herself.

- Ajussi Jo, I'm begging you! - she moaned. - I have an important exam at school, I just don't know how I can pass it...

But Jordan, as if nothing had happened, continued to sit in his chair, holding an open book in his hands, which he read with some curiosity. Delia realized that her request would go unanswered and decided to persevere. Taking a few steps toward the armchair, she stepped over ajussi Jo's legs and rested her palms on the green chintz armrests. At that very moment, Jordan slammed the book shut and looked up at her, which passed her attention, because the girl was involuntarily interested in her cover. It was a hardcover pamphlet with the title written in huge white letters on the glossy blue surface.

- The Book of Light, - Delia read with some hesitation, as if tasting the word.

She removed her hands from the armrests and looked inquiringly at Jordan, whose face broke into an enigmatic smile. "Is that my pronunciation make him amuses?" she asked herself, when their eyes met. She felt uncomfortable and looked back at the book. A minute later, ajussi Jo broke the silence.

- Oh, that's boring, - in an apologetic tone he began, - It's all about healing and crystals.

Delia, hearing this definition, barely kept a smile. She always believed that her adult friend was a connoisseur of quality literature, and she was surprised that he allowed himself to read up such a foolish and worthless book. But what to do when there are so many idiots around who are ready to pay for some nonsense that they don’t even understand. From these thoughts, the girl suddenly wanted to death to say something bold and mocking in the direction of the pamphlet, which Jordan, meanwhile, had already placed on the table to his right. Delia spread her elbows wide, put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders to look as pugnacious as possible.

- And stupid junk! - she said loudly and articulately, imitating the voice of a literary critic who read his devastating review of the book of whatever graphomaniac.

In fact, Delia was not sure of the need for such an excess - usually she never stooped to such feigned pathos, at least in communication with her parents. But now she felt that in this way she could make some impression on ajussi Jo by proving to him how well she understood the modern literary kitchen. And she was not mistaken - her adult friend looked approvingly at his young friend and nodded his head.

- Trust me, I am in total agreement with you! - he exclaimed joyfully. - I'm getting sick and tired of this esoteric nonsense. I would never pick up a book like this, if on the street I had not been forced to take it by one whacky. By the way, I was wondering, - suddenly he changed his tone, - why do you think this book is "stupid junk", as you put it?

After asking this question, ajussi Jo stared at Delia intently, and it was clear from his serious face that he was waiting for an answer. The girl felt awkward and all her pugnacious exuberance disappeared somewhere. She blushed and lowered her eyes, but Jordan didn't seem to want to change the subject. He waited for Delia to look up at him again and winked at her.

- Tell me why you didn't like this book? - he repeated his question.

Delia realized that it was pointless to keep silent, besides, it was necessary to somehow defuse the tension that had arisen, so she decided to play along with ajussi Jo, and gave him an answer which, she rightly believed, should please him to the core.

- I believe, - Delia said, raising her eyes to the ceiling for a second, - that a human does not benefit from some sort of a pebbles. Crystals can't help health in any case, it's complete nonsense! - she cried out with sudden vehemence.

Her sincere and direct answer seemed to delight ajussi Jo, either way, he smirked and nodded his approval several times. Delia herself experienced a strange feeling - as if she had just delivered a speech to the public, which met her speech with a standing ovation and applause. She straightened her unruly dark hair, straightened her skirt and tried to put on an indifferent expression on her face, in order to somehow hide the confusion that had seized her, but the blush that appeared on her cheeks testified that she was not good at it.

As it were, ajussi Jo got up from his chair. Little girl shuddered and, leaning back, instinctively covered herself with her hand. Jordan went to the table and, picking up this ill-fated book, turned to Delia, who stood in front of the chair, as if spellbound, and looked at ajussi through her fingers with some surprise, but without fear.

- I want do something nice for you, - he said, opening the pamphlet - You do love... - he suddenly fell silent and began turning the pages randomly.

Delia involuntarily wondered what her adult friend had in mind. Baby girl lowered her hand from her face and, narrowing her eyes, carefully looked at his concentrated face.

- What I love? - she asked with barely concealed curiosity. - Read? Paint?
- Incinerate, - answered unexpectedly ajussi Jo and violently pulled the book by the edges of the binding.

There was the sound of tearing paper, and several book pages flew into the floorboards. The next moment, Jordan began tearing the book to pieces with a vengeance, while Delia silently watched his actions. She could not even think that she could be so delighted with the sight of an adult man, bothering himself with such an atypical activity for his age. Soon a pile of tattered paper pages lay at ajussi Jo's feet, and the hardcover he hadn't been able to tear was thrown to the floor beside them. Joyful man took out a lighter from his pocket and nodded to the girl, who involuntarily felt funny, but she managed to suppress a smile, not wanting to seem impolite.

- Take these shreds, - ajussi Jo kicked the paper, - and take it to the hearth.

After these words, he moved to the opposite corner of the room, and Delia, after a little hesitation, squatted down next to what's left of a foolish book and began to carefully pick it up from the floor - piece by piece - folding them into the hem of her light skirt, which she usually wore in autumn, when the weather was still warm enough to walk in easy clothes. When Delia had collected everything, she straightened up and turned to the mantelpiece, where ajussi Jo was already standing.

- Get over here, - he beckoned her with a gesture.

Holding the hem of her skirt, the girl slowly, so as not to spill the paper, moved towards him. As soon as she was near Jordan, the man bent down and opened the iron door of the fireplace.

- Throw all your burden in there, - he nodded to her, referring to the book's odds and ends.

Delia released her hands from her skirt in relief, and the paper fell with a rustle right into the dark maw of the fireplace. Only the cardboard halves of the binding did not seem to want to agree with this and with a barely audible thud fell under her feet. Little girl had to bend down and pick them up from the floor, after which she threw him to the rest of the scraps.

- You make me proud! - exclaimed ajussi Jo with inappropriate triumph. - Now step aside.

Delia obeyed, and her adult friend squatted in front of the fireplace and flicked on his lighter. A few seconds later, a crack was heard right in front of his face, but nothing terrible, of course, happened - it was just a small fire flaring up, and in a few moments the flames were already licking the paper and carton folded in the middle of the fireplace. Ajussi Jo got up, brushed the dust off his knees, and shoving his hands into his trouser pockets stood beside the girl.

- The Book of Light, they say... - with irony in his voice he muttered softly, looking at the fire.
- Let there be light! - Delia answered cheerfully, her eyes fixed on the flames dancing in the fireplace.

So Jo & Delia stood for a while, silently watching as the fire turns tabloid esoteric fiction into what it essentially is - to ashes, only not figuratively, but literally. The girl had the feeling that the act of burning they had just committed, is a challenge to the whole society of these demented psychics who themselves do not understand the meaning of their pseudoscientific teachings, but with surprising perseverance they try to teach it to others, naively believing, as if an educated person has any business with their ridiculous and senseless fuss with crystals and such nonsense, ostensibly bringing human benefit and purification.

Suddenly, ajussi Jo threw back his head to the ceiling, and the girl heard his laughter, similar to the laughter of a child who received a long-awaited gift. She shuddered in surprise and recoiled from him, but soon she realized what was the matter and laughed with him. Her laughter was full of such unbridled joy and happiness as she had never experienced before - it seemed that her whole being was filled with such bliss and peace that no other event in her life could previously cause, even birthdays, Christmas or some other family holidays. It was this strange event - burning a unwise pamphlet in a neighbour's fireplace - that could cause her a strong surge of happiness.

Soon they calmed down - first ajussi Jo stopped laughing, and then Delia herself. Man and a little girl stood near the fireplace, where the last pages of a tattered, foolish and useless tiny book were burning down, which both of them, not without reason, considered, if not bad, then at least mind-numbing reading matter. Burning these pages gave them self-confidence, and, one might even say, awakened their taste for life. Ajussi Jo, looking up from the fireplace, turned to the girl and peered at her for a while - apparently trying to understand from the expression on her face what impression their sudden act made on her. Delia, feeling his eyes on her, blushed in embarrassment and began to straighten her slightly wrinkled skirt.

- Did you like it? - he asked kindly.

In response, the girl nodded her head in the affirmative.

- You've never laughed like this before, - continued ajussi Jo. - Agree, because it great - to burn the books?
- If that's a junkfiction, then yes, - Delia replied cheerfully, jumping up and down.
- I'm not saying that this applies to all literature, - as if making excuses, Jordan began to explain. - Those who can really teach something should be cherished as height of luxury, and they should not be burned at all.

Delia raised her hand to her face and scratched her chin thoughtfully, which obviously amused her interlocutor, who, in response to her gesture, tilted his head to the side and let out some semblance of a chuckle. This slightly hurt the girl, but she did not show it. Looking at ajussi Jo, she suddenly realized clearly how much he looked like her - it was not so much about external data, but how much they had similar internal qualities. After all, if dig into the depths of his soul, it turns out that the difference in age, as it were, did not exist - ajussi Jo, at twenty-four, was still as naive and childish as Delia herself. In fact, the only difference between them was only in the level of knowledge and experience.

- Hold on a second, - suddenly said ajussi Jo, raising his finger to the ceiling.

After that, he went to the desk, on which lay some papers, books, and also there was a small telephone set. Delia stared at him in bewilderment, but when the man's hand reached for the telephone receiver, she could not stand it and took a few of uncertain steps towards him.

- Where are you calling? - she asked with a sudden tremor in her voice.
- Take it easy, Delia, - said ajussi Jo, looking at her affectionately. - Just give me a minute to talk.

With these words, he began to dial the number, and the girl heard a characteristic sound with which the disk of the device rotates (ajussi Jo had a very old model of phone). She realized that Jordan wanted her out of the way, but she asked him one more question just in case.

- It have to do with me? - she asked without any hesitation.
- I feel like you're reading my mind, - ajussi Jo smiled. - Of course it is related. Something very interesting is waiting for you. Highly, - he repeated, and to emphasize the importance of the word, he snapped the fingers of his free hand.

Calming down, Delia stood behind him. It suddenly occurred to her some wonderful idea - eavesdrop on someone else's conversation and find out what adults are talking about! A slight smirk appeared on ajussi Jo's lips, and he nodded his head approvingly, as if encouraging her curiosity. Apparently, he was not at all against the fact that the girl heard the content of his conversation with the person on the other end of the line. Almost a minute passed, accompanied by measured beeps, until a young male voice came from the receiver.

- Hello, Jo, why bother me at such an early hour? - spoke with some displeasure the invisible to the girl interlocutor.

Delia almost couldn't help but laugh - it was already five o'clock in the afternoon on the clock, and this gentleman for some reason considered this time to be early. "Maybe he's a lover of sleep until noon?" she thought, covering her mouth with her hand.

- Hello, Japh, - ajussi Jo said cheerfully - I’m calling to find out how you are doing, what mood you are in.
- Listen, what is this thing, - not listening to his words, the interlocutor spoke with despair, - when the electricity is turned off in the morning and only turned on in the evening? I'm already tired of getting dressed in the morning by candlelight!
- No idea, mate, - Jordan replied calmly. - I have electricity from another substation.

Delia was bored listening to them talking about electric power problems, but she understood that this was only the beginning of the conversation, and the most important thing would be said later. Intuition did not disappoint the girl.

- Look, Japh, - with feigned carelessness said ajussi Jo. - Do you mind host the couple of not-much-star-studded folks?
- Couple? - a surprised voice came from the receiver. - Are you not the only one coming to visit me?

Baby girl blushed slightly when her adult friend used the phrase "not-much-star-studded folks". "What would happen", she thought, "he considers me to be his, but at the same time he constantly makes it clear that I am not smart enough to be equal to him?" However, ajussi Jo, busy talking, did not notice the thoughtful expression on Delia's face.

- Yes, friend, I want to introduce you to my new neighbour, Delia, pharmaceutist's daughter. Very smart and sweet girl, - at these words, he turned to the baby and was a little embarrassed when he met her gaze.
- You going to come with a babbie... - a voice answered thoughtfully.
- What, you're afraid that the young lady will get bored and remember you as a rare bore? - chuckled ajussi Jo. - Wrong, mate - Delia is a serious girl, loves to talk about literary topics, we recently read the Brüder Strugatzki with her, and she liked it very much.
- Whom? - not understand man on the other end of the line.
- Well, do you remember the book onkel Korble got me? - said ajussi Jo, hiding not his pride in himself and Delia.
- A, which is in German... - murmured the voice, as if only now he understood what the interlocutor was talking about.
- So be cool about the boredom, Japh, - Jordan cheered up his friend, - Sit, chat, read your book, take a look... The main thing is that there is something to put on the desk, I hope you don't have any problems with this?

Silence reigned on the phone - apparently Japh went to check if he had anything in the fridge. Delia, who had been standing behind ajussi Jo all this time, suddenly felt very hungry because that day she ate only twice - at home in the morning and when she just came to a neighbour. In both these cases, it was limited to small - half a grapefruit and homemade shortbread, with which Uncle Joe wanted to please her, but his culinary skills did not make much impression on baby, and in the end, Delia was still starving.

So when it came to food, Delia involuntarily thought that it would be great to visit, where she can surely eat her fill. The girl was impatiently waiting for Japh to come up to the phone and tell him what choice of dishes he could offer his young guest. And intuition once again did not deceive Delia - the interlocutor's answer was exactly what she expected to hear.

- You came to me just in time, Jo, - a cheerful voice came from the phone. - I just have a lamb shoulder in the oven - turned it off now, and yesterday's beans with tomato paste on the stove.
- That's absolutely awesome, Japhet! - Jo & Delia both exclaimed simultaneously.

It seemed that the interlocutor did not expect that someone else would intervene in a conversation with his friend, because a strange stifled sound immediately came from the phone - like Japh suddenly choked on something. Jordan looked inquiringly at Delia, who smiled silently. Her eyes seemed to tell him "Big deal, couldn't contain excitement", and ajussi Jo returned to the conversation

- How about desserts? - he asked with some tension in his voice.
- Today I decided to do without any frills, - sad Japh, - so no sweets and starchy foods, only meat and beans, and the tea of course!
- All right, Japh, - with some annoyance answered ajussi Jo. - Well, wait for us, Japh, we will come to you soon.
- We got a deal, bye! - said Japhet at the end and there was a click on the telephone receiver.

"Imagine that", thought Delia, "After all, half an hour ago, I did not even think, that I will go today to visit my neighbour's friend". Meanwhile, ajussi Jo hung up the phone and rested his hands wearily on the table. After standing like that for a couple of seconds, he turned to the girl, and she saw what a happy and contented face he had.

- So now, Delia, - he said in a cheerful voice, stretching out to his full height, - go outside, and I'll wash myself.
- Okay, - baby girl agreed without question.

She immediately rushed from her place to the exit, right on the go throwing her long hair out of her face. Ajussi Jo continued to stand at the table.

- You can play with Buffalo, but just don't go far from the wicket, - he shouted after her and slowly went to the bathroom.

Delia no longer heard him, because she had already gone out into the yard, where the neighbour's dog was barking around the yard, happily wagging its tail. The next moment, she was already holding the dog by his fluffy ears, and he obediently poked his muzzle into her chest and squealed softly when the girl scratched him behind the ears.

Then she got up from her knees and began to play catch-up with Buffalo - pretended to run away from him in fear while he scuttled around, trying to grab her by the hem of her skirt, which Delia, deftly dodging his jaws and, if necessary, inflicting weak but confident blows with her small foot on the black wet nose of the dog - please, do not think that she was cruel! She just did not want to change her clothes often.

So baby girl played with the dog for about five or six minutes, before Uncle Joe finally deigned to leave the bathroom and go out onto the porch. The dog, seeing his owner, immediately forgot about his little friend and immediately rushed towards Jordan, wanting to lick him in the face, but man pulled away from Buffalo and, trying not to pay attention to him, went to the wicket.

- I am ready to go! - shouting, he beckoned the girl to follow him.

Delia did not have to be pulled. Ajussi Jo opened the gate and, letting his young companion in front, stepped after her. While he fiddled with the keys, the baby saw Buffalo lie down near the porch and put his big head on his paws, seeing people off with a sad look of his brown eyes. The girl took pity on him - after all, this creature really loved her and treated her with all the respect that a man's best friend is capable of.

- Well, Delia, let's go, - ajussi Jo touched the girl's shoulder and immediately withdrew his hand.

Delia turned to Jordan and looked at him carefully - during the time that he spent in the bath, he managed to wash his face and lightly style his hair, although in front and sides they continued to bristle in all directions. In this, the man also somewhat resembled a girl - she also constantly experienced problems with her hair, which no matter how hard she tried to style, but naughty curls constantly climbed into her face. Delia considered it beneath her dignity to agree to a short haircut, and her mother's suggestions to resort to hairspray she rejected with indignation, because she really didn't like the feeling of some sticky substance pulling her hair together.

- Did you miss my dog? - Jordan asked, also looking the girl up and down.

Delia shrugged her shoulders, cast a thoughtful glance at the tightly closed gate of his house, and, straightening her skirt, went ahead along the road, saying to her adult friend right on the go:

- Don't worry, ajussi Jo.

Jordan joined her and they walked side by side - from the side it seemed as if it was a young father walking with a little daughter, this couple made such a sweet impression, and so naturally and naturally they stuck together. It was the end of September, the weather was warm and clear in Portland, besides, outside the city, unlike the center, there was no stuffiness in the air. But Delia was not particularly interested in the scenery around - as is usually the case with children, she completely trusted her adult guide, and, relaxing, she walked unhurriedly beside Jordan, sometimes raising her eyes from the road for a moment to stare at the wall of the distant forest dimly visible in the distance and the people passing towards them.

By the time they got to the only area in the suburbs built up with tall five-story block buildings on the principle of typical housing construction, it's been a little less than an hour. An unjustified suspicion crept into Delia's head that they would never reach their destination, but ajussi Jo suddenly stopped, and turning to the girl, looked her straight in the eyes and clapped his hands.

- House number one hundred fifty four, eighty second apartment, - he said with incredible energy. - We arrived!

With these words, Uncle Joe went to the battered door bell phone and alternately pressed the keys "8" (eight) and "2" (two), then the call button. For a while, some white noise was heard from the speaker, and then the girl heard a voice she already knew.

- Who's out there? - Japhet asked in a questioning tone.
- Open it up, dormouse, the bear has come! - barely suppressing a laugh, exclaimed ajussi Jo.
- Maybe you a dormouse yourself, - the voice grumbled indignantly.

The girl heard a click from the door bell phone's speaker - this is Japh hung up. A second later, an electrical signal was received on the lock of the entrance door, and it opened with a slight metallic clang. Jordan opened the door as wide as he could and nodded to Delia to go in first. Slightly taken aback, the girl walked past him and found herself in the poorly lit entrance of a multi-storey building, the walls of which were covered with blue paint. The musty smell of dampness hung in the air, mixed with the chemical smell of bleach - apparently, literally this morning at the entrance cleaning was done.

For a while, Delia simply stood still, but when the light from the doorway suddenly disappeared, she turned back - stepping on the cement floor, ajussi Jo approached her, closing the door.

- Come up to the fourth floor, your legs will be faster than mine, - he said softly.

Delia, deciding what she heard, silently shrugged her shoulders in response. But as Jordan got closer, she understood why he chose to let her go ahead - when walking, his right leg dragged slightly on the floor. Baby girl involuntarily felt sorry for the man.

- Ajussi Jo, why are you limping? - she asked with some fear.
- Go forward, - he said, waving his hand in her direction. - I shall be with you.

Delia had to submit - she turned and rushed up the stairs, her shoes clattering loudly on the steps, while Jordan slowly followed. The girl, going up the stairs, began to count to herself - here is the first staircase, here is the second... When she finally ran up to the fourth floor, out of breath, she realized that she was completely exhausted. Panting, Delia stopped at the unsightly steel door and glanced up the stairs.

Judging by the sound of footsteps, ajussi Jo had just begun to climb up to the second floor. Suddenly she heard, how on her left someone turns the key in the lock. She turned in that direction and saw a bright spot lying on the floor, coming from the open door, on the threshold of which stood a young man with curly blond hair that reached his shoulders. The stranger's eyes sparkled from under the glasses. Noticing the girl standing on the landing, the man scratched his head with one hand, continuing to hold the other on the front door handle.

- You is new Jo's neighbour, isn't it? - with noticeable weariness in his voice he asked and, without waiting for her answer, continued. - I'm standing here in the hallway, waiting for both of you - because I already let you in the entrance...

He apparently wanted to launch into a lengthy explanation about his experiences, but Delia interrupted him in mid-sentence, casually waving her hand.

- Let's get acquainted, - with a secular tone said the girl. - My name is Delia, just a little girl, who loves to read!

And she did knickschen, causing her long hair to fall over her eyes. Straightening up, the girl straightened them and smiled coquettishly. The man, still holding the door, bit his lip and shrugged his shoulders. Delia felt that her feigned familiarity did not impress him properly, but that didn't bother her much - for what was the harm in it, if this man, whom she scarcely knew, thought her a little frivolous?

- Well, where is Jo? - apartment owner asked the girl.
- I am already right there! - Jordan's voice reached them.

Japh & Delia turned their eyes to the stairs - ajussi Jo was already walking down the corridor towards them, straightening the collar of his shirt as he went. For some reason, surrounded by walls painted with blue oil paint, his figure looked especially impressive - it seemed that this young man in a white shirt and velour trousers was a man who rotated in higher realms than all other people, such as Delia herself or her elderly father.

- Hippity hip hooray! - for joy, the girl could hardly refrained from jump on the spot. - Eventually you is appeared!
- Japh, let that kid into the apartment, - as if ignoring her reaction, ajussi Jo turned to his friend.
- It's all right, - sighed Japhet and removed his hand from the door.

Delia went in first, then Jordan followed her, and Japh hesitated a little to double-locking the door. Baby girl, took a few cautious steps along the shabby, but still strong linoleum, stopped at a large wardrobe and looked with curiosity at the decoration of the apartment, which she happened to visit for the first time in forever.

What appeared before Delia's eyes left her with a rather pleasant impression. Japhet had not bad taste: the walls of his apartment were covered with wallpaper in geometric patterns, on top of which hung pictures in simple wooden frames - they were mostly oil-painted seascapes, although once Delia's eyes caught a portrait of certain person in a white dress, who sat on a wooden chair and held on her knees a basket from which several flowers protruded.

- Who is this? - the girl somewhat unceremoniously pointed at the portrait with her finger.

Japhet, who, having finished the front door, was about to go to the kitchen (in which ajussi Jo has already entered), lingered in the corridor and carefully examined the picture that his young guest had in mind. Then he looked down at Delia and adjusted his glasses.

- Portrait of Elizabeth the Second from the hand of some Hungarian painter, - he said.

The girl couldn't believe her ears. Delia looked more closely at the portrait, but no matter how hard she tried, she did not notice in it any similarities with the English queen. This, however, was not at all surprising - the portrait depicted a girl, God forbid, eight years old, and therefore it would be strange if at such a young age she already looks like her in the present tense (sixty-something years old at the time of the events).

- Unfortunately, I can't remember the artist's name, but I don't think you're interested anyway, - continued the owner of the apartment.

Delia ignored this slightly haughty remark - she was much more interested in why this man living in America needed to hang a portrait of the Queen of Great Britain in his apartment. Is it really the matter that in this picture she was depicted at a young age? However, the girl thought, the owner could hang a picture of this kind just like that, without any special intention... Be that as it may, Delia's soul has already awakened the thirst for curiosity inherent in young children, mixed with the suspicion of a man eager to know how things really are.

She looked inquiringly at Japhet, but he, ignoring her, opened the drawer of a nearby secretaire en portefeuille and took out a some book. Delia moved closer to him and peered at the gilded letters on the white cloth cover - the title read "Edward Coleman, Fables of My Father Swan".

- What is that? - she asked, however, already guessing the contents of the book.

The fact is that if the name of the author did not tell her anything, the name itself aroused her interest, since it clearly echoed the well-known collection of magic stories "Tales of My Mother Goose", which Delia's mother used to read to her at night as a child. And although since then when she turned eight, at home never mentioned again about fairy tales, this did not prevent the girl from being in awe of them, even if she understands, that the witchcraft described in them contradicts the material world and is hardly worthy of the attention of educated people.

Meanwhile, Japh looked at Delia and, taking the book under his arm, adjusted his glasses again, which kept sliding down to the tip of his aquiline nose.

- I just thought, what if a child came to visit me, - he began, - then I just have to offer him something interesting. Do you like fairy tales? - Japh asked kindly.
- Who doesn't love them? - Delia responded enthusiastically.
- Then you and I will definitely find a common language! - there was genuine joy in voice of apartment's owner.
- Hey Japh, are you going to set the table? - a disgruntled and even authoritative shout reached their ears.

These words of ajussi Jo reawakened in the girl a little forgotten feeling of hunger, and Delia at the same moment rushed from the corridor to the kitchen, which, however, was somewhat reckless on her part, because the small space of Japhet's apartment was not conducive to such a method of transportation. Jordan was sitting in a chair, leaning back and impatiently fingered on the surface of the kitchen table, covered with a plain white enameled cloth. When he saw baby girl, he smiled reassuringly at her.

- Sit down, Delia, let's see what Japh will treat us to, - he said lazily.

At the same time, he nodded his head at a chair that stood by the window.

- By the way, how what to address you? - said the girl, taking her place at the table.

Delia addressed this question to the owner of the apartment, who had already entered the kitchen. He placed the book of fairy tales on the edge of the countertop and, rolling up his sleeves, glanced at the curious guest.

- Ajussi Japh, just call me ajussi Japh, - hesitating a bit, he replied.

After these words, he went to the oven and, opening the glass door, took out an aluminum baking sheet, smoked from time, on which lay a large bundle of aluminum foil. Holding the dripping pan with both hands, apartment's owner carefully placed it on the table and, taking a knife, made a transverse cut on the mint and shiny surface, after which he laid out the lamb shoulder blade on the cutting board.

- Burnt again, how can... - he sighed ruefully.

Delia, swallowing her saliva, leaned across the table and stared at the appetizing surface of the meat. Indeed, the crust on the underside of the shoulder blade was slightly charred.

- Nothing wrong, - said the girl, sniffing the nice smell. - I love roast with crispy crust.
- If you been a lover of meat with blood, then you would be disappointed, - ajussi Japh chuckled.

He began to cut the lamb shoulder into small pieces, and Jordan made a sign to the girl. At first she did not understand what he meant, but following the movement of his right hand, guessed that he wanted her to get the plates. Delia got up and, shuffling her shoes, walked over to the countertop and pulled out the first drawer she found at random. It contained forks and spoons.

- Do not delay, I need to put the meat, - she heard impatient voice of ajussi Japh.

Delia slammed the cutlery drawer shut and opened another - but there was not at all what she needed. Looking for some napkins and toothpicks, the girl understood how stupid she looked from the outside, but she couldn't help herself.

- Well, leave this matter to me, - Jordan got up from his chair. - And you sit down, - he ordered Delia.

The girl obediently followed her place, as Jordan walked over to the kitchen cabinets. He opened the doors of the top shelf and took out three white plates one by one, which he then placed in the sink.

- I completely forgot that you can't reach that high, - he said as he began rinsing them under running water.
- Never mind, - crossing her legs, the girl responded.

After washing the plates, ajussi Jo put them on the table and, closing the doors of kitchen cabinet, turned to apartment's owner.

- Put the kettle, or do you want to? - he asked with a smile.
- I made tea yet, - growled Japhet, shifting the meat from the cutting board to the plates. - Don't fuss, you're bothering me.

Ajussi Jo was once again sprawled out in his chair, crossing his legs like Delia, which made the girl smile - she was a little flattered that an adult man involuntarily repeats her movements after her. Baby girl suddenly caught herself thinking how much she liked his casual manner of carrying himself. At that moment, she even forgot about food, and only Japhet's voice brought her back to reality.

- Dinner is served, - said Japhet as he set out plates of meat in front of his guests.

Delia, shaking her head, came to her senses and, moving the plate closer to her, picked up the fork, which ajussi Japh gave her in time. Ajussi Jo leaned back in his chair and followed suit as the apartment's owner placed a small teapot and three cups on the table. The girl with great appetite began to eat meat on both cheeks, despite the fact that apart from black pepper on the crust, there were no other spices in it - not even salt.

- How does it taste? - asked Japhet, who finally took his seat at the table.

Little girl, whose mouth was full of food, silently nodded her head - her dark eyes shone with pleasure. Jordan, in turn, putting another piece of meat into his mouth, inarticulately mumbled something in an affirmative tone. Apartment's owner, satisfied with the effect he had on his guests, filled the cups and ruffled his curly hair with his fingers.

- Maybe you want supplements? I have beans, if you remember, - he suggested.
- Do not mix, mate, these foodstuff, - Jordan responded. - They need to be eaten with a break of at least an hour, otherwise the beans will kill the flavor of the meat.

He spoke these words in a tone that left no doubt that ajussi Jo's knowledge of cooking was very superficial, but he, apparently, did not expect to convince anyone of his innocence, although Delia, who was already full by now, nodded her head in agreement. Then she looked at Japhet.

- I will eat beans later, but now I would love to read that book, - and she pointed with her finger at the fairy tales' volume lying on the countertop.

Ajussi Jo followed her movement and, grinning, took the cup in his hand.

- Know, Japh, - he turned to the apartment's owner, - what Delia means by "read" when she is read aloud. You got the hint? - taking a sip, he winked at ajussi Japh.
- Well... - hesitated Japhet, obviously feeling awkward. - My oratory skills are not great, but if the young lady wants... - he looked at Delia, who was following their conversation with curiosity.
- Please, ajussi Japh, read me a fairy tale! - depicting on the face of charming helplessness, baby girl asked him.
- That's when you drink tea, then I will pamper you, - answered Japhet.

The instructive tone with which he spoke these words, girl didn't like - this minute ajussi Japh behaved just like Delia's father, who has never distinguished himself by sophistication of manners, but he was very fond of emphasizing his superiority over others at every convenient opportunity. The little girl caught herself thinking that if usually children want to see the features of their parents in those around them, she was completely the opposite - she is disgusted when she sees familiar features in outsiders, as if her entire consciousness tried to abstract from everything that was connected with her relatives.

- Ajussi Japh, It's not tasty! - Delia said petulantly.

This remark was not without merit - even when she was just going to visit, she heard Japhet's warning that he had no sweets at home, and drinking tea without sweets seemed to her a pointless exercise, for she always perceived tea as something to be washed down with, and not something to be drunk separately.

- God be with you, - waving his hand, said Japhet. - If you don't want tea, don't drink, I'm not forcing you to do that.
- Are we going to reading or not? - Delia asked, already impatient to hear fairy tale.
- Let me drink, - said Japh, raising the cup to his lips. - You don't mind? - taking a sip of tea, he turned to Delia.

The girl had no choice but to nod in agreement with apartment's owner, whereupon she crossed her legs and settled herself comfortably in a chair. So the three of them sat silently for four minutes, until finally Jordan got up from the table.

- All right, Japh, stop chase the teas, - without a twinge of conscience he said.

Then he started to leave the kitchen, beckoning the girl to follow him.

- Let's go to study, Delia, and take our seats, - he said cheerfully, already standing in the corridor.

Baby girl did not force herself to beg and got up from the table. She looked first at the book, then at Japhet - he continued to lackadaisically sip from the cup.

- Grab the book when you come to us, - she said.

Without waiting for his answer, Delia followed Jordan's lead and slipped out of the kitchen. Ajussi Japh followed her with his eyes, and then, leaving the cup, got up from his chair with a grunt.

Delia went to ajussi Japh's cabinet, in which there was the aroma of some unfamiliar to her essential oils. For a while she stood on the threshold, looking around the comfortably furnished room, the walls of which were covered with wallpaper of a pleasant aquamarine hue, and there was a Iranian carpet on the floor. At the other end of the cabinet, right by the window, was a large desk, where Delia realized Japhet worked.

In addition, baby girl caught the eye of a large mahogany wardrobe, whose shelves were filled with various magazines and folders. Next to him, against the wall, was a cozy leather sofa, on which ajussi Jo was already sitting, cross-legged and throwing his hands behind his head. Seeing his young friend, he smiled at her and pointed to a chair that stood against the opposite wall.

- Settle in, Delia! - he said optimistically. - Now we'll listen to Japh read aloud to us!
- Huzzah! - enthusiastically responded Delia, plopping down in a chair upholstered in yellow chenille and immediately putting his hands on the armrests.

Ajussi Japh entered the cabinet. Looking around the crowd, he jokingly shook his finger at Jordan and, nodding to Delia, sat down in a green-chintz chair in front of the desk. Crossing his legs, he cleared his throat and opened the book already known to all three on the very last page - as the girl understood, he wanted to check the content.

- So, how to entertain our young lady... - looking intently at the book, muttered Japh.
- Something so interesting, and better with morals! - loud and clearly Delia spoke.
- Well, good fairy tales without morals does not exist, - as if by the way, noticed apartment's owner as he adjusted his glasses.
- Depends how you look at it... - Jordan threw somewhere to the side, but, meeting the girl's gaze, he immediately fell silent.
- O! I found what we need! - exclaimed ajussi Japh and began to turn over the pages. - Here is a interesting story, written by Leonard Austener.
- Wait, - Delia raised her hand, - the author of the book is a certain Edward Coleman?
- You do not understand, - Japhet slightly scolded her, - he just compiled this compilation, and the creators of fairy tales are all different!
- Well, I guess you know best, - the girl trusted the authority of an adult.
- So, "Zelandyne in Seventhaven", - solemnly proclaimed ajussi Japh.

Crossing his legs, he clicked his tongue and began to read.

- "Seventhaven is a magical town that was located on a celestial island hidden from mortal's eyes. It was possible to get there only by climbing the crystalline staircase, which appeared only in the deep night and only in one place - in one area at High Road".

Last words Japhet were pronounced with emphatic importance, which involuntarily made the girl laugh.

- Yes, of course, - she said, - what else can a town in skies be called, if not seventh heaven.
- There may be a play on words here, - ajussi Jo pointed out good-naturedly.
- "Only six inhabitants lived in this magical town", - continued Japhet. - "It was Mason, who built houses, Metalsmith, who forged all sorts of useful things, Miner mined gems and gold, Montero hunted and fed everyone else, Medic help them with their health and only one twiddler Minstrel did nothing but useless versifying. And, of course, the town was ruled by a severe Mayor".
- Hold on, - said Delia when ajussi Japh caught his breath. - You said there were six, and the mayor is not considered a inhabitant?
- Huh, six inhabitants in a town, to say nothing of the mayor, - snapping his fingers, Jordan joked.
- Well, like Jerome, - apartment's owner agreed with him and continued. - "All Seventhaven's inhabitants have one thing in common - each of them was over two thousand years old, and they never appeared in front of people. But this does not mean that seventhavenians did not know about the existence of mortals - on the contrary, those gems mined by Miner, they were going to give it to people, but with one condition - when people stop making the warfares and killing their own kind".
- They'll do it when the pigs fly, - ajussi Jo commented on the actions of the fabulous inhabitants.
- "For real this whole story began in Ducal Chateau", - continued ajussi Japh. - "It was inhabited by a young marchioness Zelandyne, which was called so because it is just a very beautiful name".
- I do not agree with it! - Delia responded.
- What are you talking about? - Japhet looked at her in surprise from under his glasses.
- Every name must have a meaning! - continued the girl. - For instance, my mother called me a Greek word, which means "always visible"!
- Hm'mm, It was very curious to hear... - ajussi Jo shook his head.
- Delia, - said apartment's owner after a pause, - you really must excuse me, but I think, that thy mother swindled thee.

The girl's eyes were bugging out, she didn't even know how to respond to this. Seeing her reaction, ajussi Japh hastened to explain oneself.

- I just know a thing or two about Hellen culture, - he began, - and I know that the name "Delia" means only "born on the island of Delos".

This explanation surprised baby girl, and she looked down at her shoes.

- Incidentally, - said Japhet, - to one Greek goddess, specifically Artemis, your name was used just as an epithet.
- Solidly, isn't it? - echoed him ajussi Jo, looking at the embarrassed Delia.
- I sense... How a wave of truth extinguished the fire of falsehood, - without understanding why, Delia said softly
- You have a rich vocabulary! - exclaimed Jordan, raising his finger to the ceiling.

Apartment's owner didn't say anything, but the girl saw his eyes flash behind his glasses. She smiled involuntarily - she really liked the praise of her abilities, but after a moment her face again acquired a serious expression.

- Okay, everything is clear with me, - she said, leaning back in her chair, - but after whom was the marchioness from the fairy tale named then?
- Do you mean Zelandyne? - asked ajussi Japh. - Well, I don't even know...
- There is a herb with a very similar name, that still weed, - Jordan spoke thoughtfully.
- No-no, wait, I think I remembered something, - Japhet called for attention. - If I'm not mistaken, celandine itself was so named because it bloomed when the swallows returned, and withered after they flew away.
- I never looked before at that point in detail, - said ajussi Jo. - Now adapt this into a fairy tale for a our young lady.
- Good, - apartment's owner agreed with him. - Assume that marchioness was named Zelandyne, because her mother watched the swallows that flew near the walls of the their chateau.
- That's quite another matter! - happily exclaimed Delia. - It already makes sense!
- You are intelligent girl, - ajussi Japh praised her and continued to read. - "The young marchioness lived in luxury and abundance, and in everyday life she was surrounded by theurgical creatures. For example, in the morning Zelandyne woke up that Sunny Bunny, who descended from the window with the first rays of sunshine, rang his bell over her pillow".

Delia couldn't help but laugh when she pictured this picture. Ajussi Jo laughed along with her, and only apartment's owner continued to sit silently in his chair, waiting for the listeners to calm down. When the fun calmed down, he again directed his eyes on the book.

- "But not only the young marchioness had her theurgical pet. The Duchess, her mother, had with her Potted Fairy - a tiny woman with wings who lived in a small pot and did not need food or drink, but could work miracles. However, The Duchess could easily do without her charms, for she herself was a sorceress, but this did not prevent her from tormenting little beauty with the same question every day - "How long will I to sit on the throne?"
- Hmm, why did she ask her such a query? - Delia asked.
- I think this should be understood as an allegory for the fact that Zelandyne's mother was afraid of approaching old age, - suggested ajussi Japh.
- But what about the obvious authority in the country? - Jordan interrupted the conversation.
- Don't you understand what governance is, Jo? - Japhet started arguing. - The Duchess is not a The Queen, but rather, the owner of several plots of land, on which she can dispose, but no more.
- Wait, so you mean to tell me that... - ajussi Jo was about to say, but the young listener interrupted him.
- All right, stop it! - Delia exclaimed. - I did not come to visit ajussi Japh in order to listen to such controversies!
- Well, from the mouths of Delia shall come the truth, - Japhet agreed with her. - "So, Potted Fairy always answered her mistress the same - that The Duchess will reign happily ever after. Such an answer delighted the narcissistic woman. But she resorted not only to magic - almost all related to power were in charge by Chief Executor of Royal Wishes".
- Who was that? - surprised Delia. - Never heard of post like this.
- Well, it's not hard to guess that this man fulfilled any desires of the insidious duchess, - Jordan noticed.
- But why is he exactly "Executor"? - baby girl did not let up.
- This is just a play on words again, - continued ajussi Jo. - He simultaneously executes both pleasant and violent requests.
- All right, - Delia agreed with his words.

Meanwhile Japhet smiled and went back to reading the story.

- "Job title Chief Executor of Royal Wishes at the court of The Duchess was established a long time ago - the person that will be discussed was a descendant in the third tribe. On his own, he was a great implementer - it was not difficult for him to sneak anywhere and quietly eavesdrop on the conspiracies of any interesting personalities who inspired fear in his proprietress. On that day, he ran into the throne room and reported that the army of the neighboring country was defeated, and their leader was captured. This good news pleased The Duchess so much that they immediately awarded him a medal "For The Pleasant News". And her daughter, marchioness Zelandyne, at that time communicated with two unusual inhabitants of Ducal Chateau".

After reading this, ajussi Japh suddenly looked up from his book and looked at Delia. The girl noticed how on his face flashed an expression of slight mockery, which quickly disappeared, replaced by sheer seriousness.

- I want you to guess for yourself who the marchioness was talking to, - Japhet said with a touch of irony.

Noticing how the girl's face turned bright red, he smiled and winked at her reassuringly.

- I'll give you a hint, their names started with the letter "C", - as if doing a favour, he continued. - C&C, - he immediately joked.

Delia began to go over in her mind all the palace titles she knew in the hope that at least one of them will be suitable. It was not very easy, because since childhood she did not like all this monarchist nonsense, and only cliches from pretentious films and boring soap operas on historical topics came to mind. After a minute, she was able to find the right words and, sighing, looked up at apartment's owner.

- Chancellor & Councillor, - she blurted out with some relief.
- it was a good try, - ajussi Japh said with a grin, - but not, Zelandyne was not talking to people.

This revelation took the girl by surprise - it seemed as if she had completely forgotten that they were reading a fairy tale to her, and not documentary chronicles from the life of some political person.

- With whom, maybe animals? - she asked, wrinkling her brow.
- No, - cryptically said Japhet, - with vegetables.

And, without letting the girl come to her senses, apartment's owner returned to reading the fairy tale.

- "Cactus and Chamomile, who grew up in the parlour, had the ability to speak like humans. When Zelandyne had nothing to do, she sat down on a chair in front of the window and listened, how her green friends tell her about what has been and what will be in the world. That day they told marchioness that today she is eighteen years old, and on this occasion, they want to please her with the news that she will meet her fiance, who, as was customary in those distant times, should give her a heart pierced by an arrow. When Zelandyne, delighted by this news, immediately went to the palace hall, Cactus and Chamomile began to whisper among themselves about who the mysterious chosen one of marchioness would look like".
- I think it's definitely not a prickly peyote! - Delia interrupted him with a laugh.

Japhet took a breath and, with a satisfied smile, looked at his young listener, continued.

- "Some will wonder why the marchioness was so pleased with the news of her birthday. It's simple - the mother tried her best to keep her daughter in the dark about her age, because she was afraid that when the girl turned eighteen, she would not refuse the opportunity to take her place on the throne. Of course, Zelandyne never even thought of that - all she wanted that day was on the occasion of her birthday throw a merry-making. Approaching the palace hall, on the way she already imagined, how hundreds of candles were lit in it, and hundreds of guests entered, with the arrival of which began the bona fide ball. The marchioness saw with her own eyes the graceful cavaliers, who, sparkling in their eyes and clinking their spurs, danced with elegant ladies, and at the very end of the hall she saw the silhouette of a beautiful young man, to whom she wanted to throw herself into the arms".

Japhet's reading was interrupted by a muffled yawn - it was Jordan shifting on leather sofa, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his mouth.

- It sounded boring, - Delia admitted honestly, also covering her mouth with her palm.
- Just be patient, - said ajussi Japh, - in each fairy tale there are few interesting descriptions of secular life.
- Okay, - answered the girl, wiping her hand on the arm of her chair.
- "But alas", - continued Japhet, - "In fact, there was a copper cauldron in the palace hall, into which the marchioness's mother threw milkweed leaves, snake fangs and wasp stings. The poisonous brew foamed and seethed, and the sorceress herself furiously whispered over it the words of some spells. When the water finally flooded the coals that lay under the cauldron, The Duchess began to interrogate the prisoner in the chain youthful Sagamore, whom, by her silent decree, the guards brought. She wanted to ask the captive, where hide old men, women and children of broken, but not conquered country. But youthful Sagamore, even under penalty of death, did not tell her anything!"

Ajussi Japh uttered the last words with such enthusiasm, as if he was personally present at this interrogation and wholeheartedly sympathized with that young man who had lost his homeland and freedom. His young listener could not resist commenting:

- He're brave, daring heart! - Delia exclaimed loudly and jumped on the spot, causing her black hair to fall picturesquely over her shoulders.

Both of her adult interlocutors stared at her with some bewilderment, as if trying to understand the reason for her unbridled joy. Jordan even stroked his frizzy hair with his palm, making it look even worse. From his face, the girl realized that he envied her young ardor in his soul, but because of the presence of his close friend tries not to express his feelings in any way. Japheth himself, having looked at the guest from head to toe, only grinned meaningfully and returned to the book, which he continued to hold in his hands.

- "When The Duchess understood, what youthful Sagamore does not agree to commit treason to his motherland, she called the guards behind her and, leaving the prisoner alone, went to give instructions to the slaughterers. Just at that moment, Zelandyne reached the palace hall, and what was the surprise of the marchioness when she caught sight of a handsome, but exhausted and chained young man! She immediately rushed to youthful Sagamore and started asking questions, to which he willingly answered, because he felt a kindred spirit in the girl. Hearing his sad story, the heart of the young marchioness was filled with readiness to regain freedom to youthful Sagamore, but what could her fragile hands do?"
- I wonder what ideology adhered Leonard Austener, who wrote this fairy tale? - thoughtfully said ajussi Jo.
- What are you even talking about? - not understanding the friend's words, asked Japhet.
- Just think about this, mate, - with the air of a connoisseur began Jordan, - this author has a representative of the feudal class became sympathetic to the leader of the oppressed people. Don't you find that this is some kind of prerequisite for mutiny, a overturn?
- Will you please stop! - Delia interrupted his ranting about politics.
- I agree with you, - ajussi Japh supported the girl and continued reading. - "But at this time in the palace hall came back the Zelandyne's mother, who, having found her daughter next to the prisoner, immediately ordered to send youthful Sagamore to the dungeon, and she herself attacked the marchioness with loud reproaching cries. When The Duchess realized that objurgations would not help the cause, she gave Zelandyne a pearl-encrusted diadem. In this sparkling attire, the young marchioness seemed so beautiful to everyone, that after her departure, the alarmed woman immediately rushed to her chambers, that ask the Potted Fairy. Answer of little beauty scared her in earnest - according to her forecasts, Zelandyne was supposed to throw The Duchess off the throne any minute".

Listening to the fairy tale, Delia imperceptibly let out a deep sigh. Ajussi Japh looked up from his book and looked at her with a smile. The girl blushed slightly and lowered her eyes.

- I just thought The Duchess was a bit like my mommy, - she spoke softly.
- Interesting, what exactly? - Jordan couldn't resist asking.
- To tell the truth, - little girl began, - mother also has the same mood swings - then it seems to her that everything is against her, and the next second she is imbued with a great love for the world.
- How many years your mom? - urgently asked Japhet.
- I don't know the exact age, - intervened ajussi Jo, - but she is younger than her fifty-year-old husband by about twenty years.
- So, thirty something, - said ajussi Japh, not in the least surprised at such a difference in the ages of the spouses. - Midlife crisis, what to take from her...

Both grown men looked at Delia. Baby girl was sitting in a chair, staring at the floor. She had, of course, overheard their conversation about her mother, but she didn't care what it was about - little girl just wanted to hear the continuation of the tale. Japhet exchanged glances with his friend, shrugged and returned to his book.

- "As soon as The Duchess heard Potted Fairy's prediction, how her soul was immediately filled with hatred and envy for her own daughter, and she decided to take revenge on the young marchioness. She went through many ways of revenge in her head, and in the end decided sell Zelandyne into slavery to some sea-wolf, who then plowed the sea on their huge schooners. The Duchess immediately called for auld Jaeger, over over which she constantly abusing, and ordered him to carry out her order. Auld Jaeger did not dare to disobey his proprietress and took Zelandyne behind the walls of Ducal Chateau. Passing through the gate, he was about to head to the harbour, where the trading schooners were anchored, but fortunately for the marchioness, they got in the way of Clever Crow, who prompted auld Jaeger, that he can just leave the girl on the High Road, but himself return to The Duchess and report her, that the girl was killed on the way by marauders. Auld Jaeger, who was tormented by sympathy for Zelandyne, immediately followed the wise advice of the bird and turned back to Ducal Chateau, and Сlever Crow in turn hid in the branches of an ancient oak that grew by the pathway. Unhappily, The Duchess at the first words of auld Jaeger understood, that she was deceived, and, without listening to his story to the end, ordered her guards to seize auld Jaeger and take into courtyard to trophy guillotine - the very one that her soldiers got in the war with the people of youthful Sagamore".

For some reason, a story about how an unlucky old man got caught in his lies, made Delia so excited that she immediately burst into carefree laughter. Both of her interlocutors looked at each other, as if they were very embarrassed. When the girl calmed down a little, she smiled guiltily at them and straightened her dress.

- He shouldn't have listened other animal's advice, - Delia said smartly.
- In your words contains a kernel of truth, - began Jordan, - but, in my opinion, it is indecent to laugh at death.
- So auld Jaeger is fabled! - rightly noticed girl. - What's wrong with laughing at the death of a fictional character?

But the silent reproach that was read in the eyes of ajussi Jo and ajussi Japh, forced her to bite her tongue and shrink into a chair. Fortunately, the silence did not last long - soon Japhet continued reading.

- "Zelandyne was left alone on the High Road. It was night outside, and the young marchioness became frightened and frightened. Afraid of the dark, she began to call her voice to the night skies, and soon to her desperate cries from the darkness arrived Clever Crow, which already familiar to us. Seeing Zelandyne, he ordered her to follow a swarm of kind-hearted fireflies glowing in the gloom. Young marchioness followed his advice, and finally the insects led her to the crystalline staircase, that led straight to heaven. Zelandyne climbed it and ended up in an amazing place, where, among countless clouds, an island soared, on which, among flowers and trees, there were small, but very lovely lodges, with red tiled roofs and white round walls. When the young marchioness came closer to the settlement, a nimble and agile little man ran out to meet her, in one hand was a lute, and in the other a sheet of paper covered with ink".
- It was Minstrel? - exclaimed the girl, remembering the beginning of fairy tale.
- Well, who else would it be? - ajussi Japh asked a rhetorical question. - And, as you already guessed, the marchioness ended up in Seventhaven, same magical town!
- All right, It's so obvious, - with a slight annoyance in her voice, Delia gives an holy glare.

At the same time, she was not at all surprised when ajussi Jo, scratching his knee, grunted mysteriously. Who knows, maybe he heard this fairy tale not for the first time, maybe even knew it by heart. Be that as it may, the girl's attention turned again to Japhet, who at that moment, slapping his forehead, buried himself in the book again.

- "As soon as the little man saw the marchioness, he began to sing loudly and play the lute, and soon to the sound of his music from lodges started coming out other inhabitants of the heavenly town. As soon as they gathered in full force on the street, the oldest looking little man approached Zelandyne and began to interrogate her, who is she and how did she end up in their magical town. Young marchioness did not lie and answered honestly, that this day she turned eighteen years old, and that her mother kicked her out of the home, not even allowing to celebrate this wonderful red-letter day. The inhabitants of the heavenly city were imbued with sympathy for Zelandyne and decided to let her stay with them. Mayor immediately gave the order to build a dwelling for the marchioness, which Mason managed in just ten minutes, because he was always ready all necessary tools and materials".

When ajussi Japh paused to catch his breath, Jordan, who all this time concentratedly examined the lying at his feet Iranian carpet with elaborate pattern, suddenly raised his eyes to apartment's owner. Displeasure was read in ajussi Jo's eyes, as if he could not believe that his friend had uttered such stupid and unexpected words for him.

- It's kind of unrealistic, isn't it... - he grunted under his breath, he shook his head sadly.

Delia, who listened eagerly to every word ajussi Japh said, don't waste time asking Jordan exactly what he meant - that the marchioness was so easily allowed to live in Seventhaven, or how quickly they built a lodge for her. However, to leave his remark unanswered would be tactlessness on her part - it was not enough for him to consider her an some simpleton. So Delia, after taking a second to think, straightened her shoulders and rose slightly in her chair - so as to attract the eyes of all those present.

- Ajussi Jo, you forgot it was a fairy tale! - she exclaimed loudly throughout the cabinet. - It doesn't have to be realistic!
- Truth is on your side, - apartment's owner himself agreed with her and continued reading. - "Inhabitant of Seventhaven never regretted that the young marchioness settled in their town - for good Zelandyne paid good, she constantly took care of everyone and baked delicious pies for all her new friends, what they liked very much, for up to this point they had lived on the simple baked meat of animals that Montero had hunted. Besides twiddler Minstrel, who happened to see the marchioness before others, composed about her a very tender ballad, in which he praised her beauty and kindness, and also did not fail to blame her mother for how unfairly she treated her daughter. When he read this ballad to the marchioness herself, heart of Zelandyne filled with a warm feeling for Minstrel, but she did not reciprocate him, for she thought of the youthful Sagamore, whom she supposed was still languishing in captivity with The Duchess".
- By the way, for a long time we have not heard something about what happened in Ducal Chateau, - Delia couldn't resist commenting.
- You're about to find out, - ajussi Japh smiled and continued - "Marchioness' Mother was not satisfied, how auld Jaeger disposed of her daughter's life - butchering him on the guillotine, the woman, without wasting a minute, decided to dress like a beggar maid and make one's way through Seventhaven, why did she invite Chief Executor of Royal Wishes. The point was that since The Duchess lived all her life in splendour, she was completely unaware how does it - to ask for alms. Chief Executor of Royal Wishes spent two whole days with her a couple of exercises, but The Duchess was a very bad schooldame - she constantly broke into a secular tone, which was totally unacceptable to play the role of a beggar maid. Realizing that it will not lead to anything good, her teacher decided to take up the matter himself - Chief Executor of Royal Wishes turned to Potted Fairy and asked her to turn him into a pauper. The effect exceeded all expectations - young man at the behest of a little beauty transformed into an elderly man dressed in dirty rags. One of his eyes was hidden behind a black bandage, and both legs were so crooked, that without a crutch he was completely helpless. From now on, no one could doubt that it's not subdolous Chief Executor of Royal Wishes, but just an elder and diseased cripple who needs an attitude adjustment".

Hearing these words, Delia burst into laughter - it seemed painfully comical to her the appearance of a aching gaffer, into which Chief Executor of Royal Wishes turned. She couldn't understand why he had to disfigure himself like that, but already the fact that now his appearance fully corresponded to his disgustful soul, gave her a sense of satisfaction. Ajussi Jo and ajussi Japh didn't frown at her this time - obviously they, too, agreed with how the fairy from the fairy tale dealt with the guileful executioner. At any rate, Delia could clearly hear soft but approving chuckle of Jordan. When the girl finally calmed down, she tilted her head up and scratched the back of her head.

- You can keep reading, - she tossed at Leonard, wiping her tears from laughter.
- All right, - nodded apartment's owner. - "At the end of servant's metamorphosis The Duchess handed the cripple a phial of poison, one drop of which was enough to send Zelandyne to The Land of Eternal Dreams. Bowing to his proprietress, Chief Executor of Royal Wishes went out the gate of Ducal Chateau and, waiting for the night, climbed the crystalline staircase into Seventhaven, where, having found the lodge of the young marchioness, he splashed poison on her and immediately rushed to run. however, he made a mistake in his calculations, in courage throwing a phial on the floor - the sound of breaking glass immediately woke up all six inhabitants of the town, who, led by Mayor, rushed in pursuit of the cripple, whose crooked legs have done him a disservice - unable to break away from the persecution, Chief Executor of Royal Wishes lost his crutch and was forced to stop halfway to the descent into ground. And then he had a bad time - very bad! Worse than ever!".
- So, what happened to this vile villain? - Delia asked without taking her eyes off the narrator.
- I think that Seventhaven's inhabitants just threw him down the stairs, - Jordan suggested.

Delia couldn't help but admit that ajussi Jo's answer was convincing enough, but she still felt a little offended, what Leonard Austener - the author of this fairy tale - did not mention, how did the heroes committed a massacre with the misdoer. However, it could be understood, after all, he wrote a children's story, and surely mister Austener had to try, to make his work look as innocent as possible, avoiding any reference of violence, not to scare its immature audience. But in the depths of Delia's soul lived an unconscious disgust for all sorts of miscreants, because of which she was not satisfied with such a superficial description of what happened to Chief Executor of Royal Wishes. Meanwhile, Japhet meanwhile continued.

- "When the cripple was finished, the inhabitants of Seventhaven returned to the lodge, where the poor marchioness lay motionless in bed - the poison that Chief Executor of Royal Wishes splashed on Zelandyne's face, plunged the girl into such a deep sleep, that she could not be awakened by any forces. Seventhavenians were gripped by immense grief, and even severe and incredulous Mayor sobbed inconsolably, kneeling by the bed on which lay the lifeless body of the young marchioness. However, soon in Seventhaven our old friend Clever Crow flew in, who explained to the saddened residents how to save the girl - all that was needed for this was to bring a youthful Sagamore into the magical town, who still languished in the dungeon of The Duchess - because they are with Zelandyne love each other!"
- This is sounds like a tired mantra, - muttered Jordan, turning his eyes to the ceiling. - Awakening a girl from sleep by kissing...
- Certainly not, ajussi Jo! - Delia retorted enthusiastically. - It's so romantic!
- I guess in fairness, - coughing, Japhet remarked, - in the tale there is not a one word about what exactly was supposed to awaken the marchioness! Maybe a kiss, or maybe something completely different!

Delia gave ajussi Japh a radiant smile with holy glare and nodded in agreement. For the first time in all the time they spent together, face of apartment's owner suddenly flushed with embarrassment. It seemed to baby girl that it was difficult to embarrass Japhet, but she was wrong. After wiping the sweat off his neck, he turned away from the young guest for a second and looked at the chandelier hanging from the ceiling. After a while, he looked at the girl and, seeing a mischievous smile on her face, good-naturedly shake head at her and turned back to his book.

- "Seventhavenians gathered a council at which they began to decide which of them should go to rescue the prisoner from dungeon. After several discussions and debates, they came to the conclusion that it should be done by the youngest of all those present - namely, twiddler Minstrel. In less than an hour he had already descended the stairs to the High Road, and, stealthily sneaking into Ducal Chateau, slipped into The Duchess's bedchamber, where she kept the magic pot. Taking it in hand, Minstrel appealed to its tiny dweller to free the youthful Sagamore. Potted Fairy did not agree to this proposal, and meanwhile the guards heard a noise from the bedchamber. Hearing their stomp, Minstrel fell into a panic and not knowing what to do next, decided to take the most extreme step - he asked the little beauty, so that she scattered palatial walls, to which Potted Fairy agreed without further ado. And when four warriors had already broken through the doors and seized Minstrel, the building suddenly shook and the heavy ceiling collapsed down, burying everyone who at that time was in the Ducal Chateau."
- Really, is Minstrel too? - Delia exclaimed in fright.
- Yes, him and Potted Fairy died both, - with deadly seriousness Japhet replied. - Don't you cry, - he consoled the girl, noticing large transparent drops in her eyes.

He managed to produce the desired effect on Delia - she immediately wiped away her tears and sniffled, why her black curls are finally disheveled. Besides, her dress, once so neat, now looked worn and wrinkled. The girl, noticing the gaze of men on herself, hurriedly got herself in order - neatly smoothed her skirt on her knees and for the umpteenth time that evening straightened her hair.

When Delia looked back at Japhet, he silently nodded to her, as if letting him know that he was satisfied with her appearance and continued his interrupted occupation - that is, he began to read a fairy tale aloud and expressively, don't forget to turn the pages so you don't miss a single line. Little girl, holding her breath, listened to his pleasant baritone.

- "Of all the Ducal Chateau's indwellers only one person survived - as it is easy to guess, it was youthful Sagamore, who, taking advantage of the general commotion, got out of his cell a moment before the walls of the dungeon collapsed. After wandering around the wreckage for a while, he got out into the regal garden, where at this time among the crowns of fruit trees and neatly trimmed bushes just taking a break from the day's worries already familiar to us Сlever Crow. Noticing the survivor, bird immediately flew up from the tree and, slowly circling over his head, told youthful Sagamore about what happened with Zelandyne, and then ordered him to wait until nightfall to climb the crystalline staircase to heaven. Having finished his narrative, Clever Crow flapped his wings and soared into the air, leaving youthful Sagamore alone in the regal garden".

After reading this, Japhet looked up from the book and exchanged significant glances with his young listener, whose face, in the soft incandescent light, seemed unusually serious for an eight-year-old child. Delia bit her lip in confusion and ran her finger along the upholstery of the chair in which she sat.

- Ajussi Japh, what happened next? - after a minute of silence she asked.
- Our fairy tale has reached its end, - apartment's owner said as he moved to slam the book shut.
- Listen, no, hold on, hold on! - the girl begged, getting up from her seat.

Without further ado, Japhet obediently handed the book into the hands of Delia, who approached him, which the next second opened it on a bookmarked page and, wrinkling her brow, began to carefully examine its contents. The last line was exactly what ajussi Japh had read out loud to her, followed by a completely different story called "Mollie and the Pretty Parents" authored by a certain Machiel Nymou. Realizing that the fairy tale really ended at this point, Delia slammed the book shut with a sigh and looked up at Japhet with her large eyes, in which silent sadness froze. The man had no choice but to silently nod his head, as if confirming the correctness of her conclusions.

- So, did you enjoy this fairy tale?? - Jordan asked the girl, rising from the leather sofa.

Delia continued to stand thoughtfully with a book in her hands - from the outside it seemed that she was not entirely sure how much she liked the story that apartment's owner read to her. Listening to her own feelings, she she looked around the room several times, trying not to linger on her interlocutors. Finally, Delia made up her mind and nodded her head affirmatively.

- Yeah, that delighted me, - baby girl said with some embarrassment. - I expected it to end in a corny way, but...
- What do you mean by "corny way"? - Japhet, who had previously continued to sit on his chair with a detached face, suddenly perked up.
- Well... - Delia was confused, starting to blush. - If the youthful Sagamore found the marchioness and kissed her, and they were happy, then it would be quite flatly, although romantic...

She stopped mid-sentence - it seemed that she was having a hard time finding words that could adequately convey her impression of the fairy tale. Jordan, who was already stretching his legs, numb from sitting on the sofa for a long time, quietly cleared his throat and raised his hand up - perhaps in order to distract the girl from a topic that was too difficult for a child. Delia noticed his gesture and immediately calmed down.

- Japh, - ajussi Jo turned to his close friend, - It’s already difficult for Delia to describe her feelings, and you’re pestering her with your questions. That won't do, mate.

Japhet moved towards the exit of the cabinet, and, having caught up with Jordan, patted him on the shoulder in a friendly manner. Delia noticed a grimace of slight annoyance on his face and thought that ajussi Jo's words clearly struck a nerve with ajussi Japh, but he tried his best to make a favourable impression on his young guest and therefore tried not to show his displeasure.

- Let's go and eat something, there's still time, - voice of apartment's owner came from the corridor.

Jo & Delia left the cabinet and followed him. Pausing for a second near the door leading to the kitchen, baby girl inhaled the pleasant smell of baked beans that Japhet had just heated in the microwave oven. Walking to kitchen in after ajussi Jo, she immediately took the place at the table, which she had chosen since her arrival here - right opposite the exit, so that at any moment she can quickly sneak back, if any unforeseen circumstances arise (which Delia, however, was not at all sure about).

- Enjoy your meal, - said Japhet as he placed two plates on the table, one for ajussi Jo and one for Delia.

The owner of the apartment himself began to making tea - placing an electric kettle under the tap, he filled it with tap water and then connected it to the electrical network, after which he sat down at the table and, Pulling out a small notebook from the pocket of his wide pants, he opened it and, casting a thoughtful glance at the girl, began to quickly write something down. Delia, busy eating, didn't pay attention to it for a while, but when Japhet put the rollerball pen on the edge of the table to unplug the kettle, baby girl looked up at him and put her fork down.

- What are you writing there, ajussi Japh? - she asked, continuing to chew the beans.

Japhet turned around and looked at her carefully, holding a kettle in his hands, from which came a thick white stream of hot steam. He was silent for some time, and then, pouring boiling water into a small earthenware teapot standing on the table, he put the electric kettle back in place.

- So, memos for my hobby, - ajussi Japh answered the girl with dignity, taking his place at the table.

Delia immediately reached for the stationery lying in front of the man to verify the veracity of his words. Ajussi Japh did not interfere with her, and after a few seconds the girl was already holding in her hands a small notebook in a simple leather binding, the pages of which were covered with small, but quite legible handwriting. Delia quickly ran her eyes over the first page she came across, but not understanding where the most recent entry was, she raised her eyes to ajussi Japh, who, meeting her concentrated gaze, nodded to her, as if approving her curiosity.

- Open it up to page ninety one and read, - said helpfully apartment's owner, clearly not intending to hide anything from his young guest.

Baby girl followed his advice and began nervously flipping through the thin pages until she finally found the last entry, which made her raise her eyebrows in amazement - on the practically empty page there was only one line written in a sweeping manner, which read: "The waves of truth tends to extinguish fire of the falsehood".

- Hey, this is my own words! - little girl whispered in shock. - I said them when you were reading me a fairy tale!

She stared at Japhet in bewilderment, but he simply took the notebook from her and, putting it in his pocket, shrugged.

- This is for my research regarding American citizens having Greek names, - he answered with a smile.

Delia shook her head in disbelief - such an explanation for ajussi Japh's inexplicable deed was too implausible for her to believe him. Meanwhile, Jordan finished the beans and, leaving the empty plate aside, poured some black tea into his cup.

- It's a pity, of course, that you don't have sweets at home, - he said, raising the cup to his lips, - but since we are not here to praise your culinary talents, let's come to the point.

With these words, he put the cup on the table and fixed a concentrated gaze on Delia, which spoke of how important a subject he was going to discuss with her. Baby girl could not suppress her astonishment - she had never seen him so serious before, but the next second she came to her senses and even smiled.

- Listen to me, Delia, - began ajussi Jo, looking carefully into her eyes. - When you and I go home, don’t even think about talking to anyone about what happened. Do you understand?
- Unfortunately not, - the girl admitted honestly, batting her eyes. - What are you on about? - she asked her interlocutor.
- Fairy tale, about fairy tale, - he answered in a conspiratorial tone. - Don't tell your parents that you listened to it while visiting.
- I don't see what's wrong with that, - Delia still didn't understand what ajussi Jo was getting at.
- You don't have to do this, - evasively but firmly said Jordan. - I don't want them to think that you heard a some baloney from ajussi Japh.
- Well, ajussi Jo, - baby girl said capriciously. - You told me the same thing when you read me that book in German... - she paused, remembering its name.
- Yes-yes, about Lord God in the flesh, - Jordan nodded, smiling at his interlocutor. - There was a reason there too, but it's not relevant. Now you have to remember - act as if nothing happened, is that clear?
- Okay, - Delia answered obediently, looking hopefully at apartment's owner, who was silently listening to their conversation.
- Do you promise to hold your tongue? - continued ajussi Jo.
- I make a promise I won't tell anyone, - she answered with emphasized seriousness and nodded.
- You're a very intelligent girl, - Jordan immediately relaxed, taking a sip from his cup.

Delia, without touching her tea, got up from the table and, stretching out to her full short height, went to the entrance door. Ajussi Jo, giving the apartment's owner a significant nod, followed her example. Jordan helped the baby girl out of the apartment and, lingering on the landing, wanted to close the door behind him, but Japhet was already standing at the threshold.

- Best of luck out there! - he shouted after his guests and slammed the door behind them.

Jo & Delia went out into the street, where dusk was already gathering, and without hesitating for a minute, they walked quickly towards their homes - after all, Delia’s parents were waiting at home, whom she completely forgot to warn about her unplanned visit to her neighbour’s close friend. On the way, the girl thought about why ajussi Jo strictly forbade her to tell mom and dad about the fairy tale she listened to at a party.

Is all this really due to the fact that, she thought, that instead of the traditional for fairy tale's plot prince and princess in "Zelandyne in Seventhaven" there was a young sagamore who was the enemy of the mother of his beloved marchioness? Or is it because Leonard Austener, tale's author, described as many as three deaths - at first the guillotining of auld Jaeger, then falling of Chief Executor of Royal Wishes from heavenly island and at the very end - destruction of Ducal Chateau? This is unlikely, little girl decided, quickly walking along the sidewalk after her adult companion, who seemed to have completely forgotten about her existence. In any case, Jordan hardly looked back at Delia, only sometimes slowing down, when they occasionally met mothers, carrying strollers with their very tiny kids.

Little girl was brought out of her memories by the first drops of rain lashing the window glass. Delia hurriedly jumped from the windowsill, shook off the tiny wet droplets from her chemise and, after briefly admiring the night sky covered with gloomy clouds, slammed the shutters, not caring at all that this sound could easily reach the sensitive ears of her mother. Baby girl deliberately did not close the curtains - she wanted the sun's rays to penetrate into her room in the morning, which would give her a little warmth and light, which she had been missing so much lately.

She turned her back to the window and walked towards her bed. Making sure no one is there - oh those childhood fears! - Delia pulled back the edge of the covers and sank onto the cold sheets, but she was in no hurry to lie down. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed and began to slowly rock back and forth, as if in a rocking chair. An almost dreamy smile wandered across her concentrated face - it seemed as if she was imagining herself standing on the deck of a small yacht sailing on the waves of the endless sea. Be that as it may, the rhythm in which she swayed did her good - by the time it was already raining outside, Delia had already mastered her emotions and leaned back on the pillow with a smile on her lips.

However, she still couldn't sleep - all she could achieve was to replace one memory with another. Pulling the blanket over herself, Delia fixed her unblinking eyes straight on the ceiling and immediately plunged into the peaceful stupor that was so characteristic of her that night. No one interfered with this process - the mother, apparently, had been sleeping was like a light a long time ago, since not a single sound from her daughter's bedroom woke woman up, which she would have perceived as an alarm signal. As for her father, Delia wasn't even sure whether he was actually in the house right now - who knows, maybe he stayed overnight at his friend's apartment, as he often did when he's got a deadline at work.

***

The girl continued to feel worried about her adult friend - it seemed to her that Jordan was languishing somewhere in captivity at that moment, like the youthful Sagamore from the fairy tale that she heard while visiting ajussi Japh. Delia still remembered the day when, for the first time in two months of their relationship, she did not find ajussi Jo in his own house (not counting, of course, those moments when he went to the center on business). This was about a day after her visit to his close friend - at first, for no apparent reason, the parents took the girl to the gynaecologist, youngish mister Madison Fraser, who, casually (one might even say, “for show”), examined her feminine nature, told gloomy mother of Delia that her daughter "Everything is exactly as she suspected!", released his patient on all four sides.

Delia, accustomed to her parents never discussing with her "low-order problems" (as her deeply religious father put it), did not ask them any questions about what happened, and resignedly went with her mother to the apartment of Jorge Coghill - father's old friend, where both women stayed for the night, while the head of the family himself went home "on urgent business", as he briefly explained to his wife and daughter. The next morning Delia was woken up by the owner of the apartment, a gray-haired and tall man - mister Coghill himself. Having treated his guests to coffee and toast, he shared with Delia's mother two meaningless pieces of news from the life of New York bohemian, and then invited them to some very significant event, but the mother politely refused mister Coghill and, citing lack of time, hurried away with daughter, left him alone with his wife - missis Susan Coghill, as old and tall as her spouse.

Throughout the next day, Delia was extremely uncommunicative with her family - when little girl got home on the bus, she didn't even say hello to her father, who greeted both of his women with an uncharacteristic sense of tact and tolerance. It seemed as if he deliberately kept himself as polite as possible - he even allowed baby girl to start dinner without forcing her to say a grace before eating, which in normal times would probably have been an unimaginable violation of the established customs of their family.

Delia suspected that her father was deliberately playing the role of a kind family man, to make amends for her some misdeed, about which the girl had not the slightest idea. However, a day later, she began to understand something. When at breakfast, according to her custom, she announced to her family that she was going to visit Jordan, her mother looked at her as if she were talking about something completely unthinkable, and her father, staring gloomily at his plate, took the sandwich in his hands and sighed.

- Shouldn't be doing that, - he said firmly and sternly, chewing a ham sandwich generously spread with mustard.

The little girl looked questioningly at her father, but he continued to move his huge jaws steadily, not paying attention to his daughter. Then Delia turned her gaze to her mother.

- Mom, why can't I go to ajussi Jo? - she asked, feeling a sense of danger growing in her chest.
- Because, - father, who has already finished eating, answered for her, - that neighbourly dog went mad from the heat and ran away, and now he's wandering around and might bump into you.
- Are you not going to let me go at all? - Delia feigned offence.
- We can let you go outside, but don't go to your neighbour, - father continued. - Who knows, what if the dog has already managed to bite him?
- He's got a point, - The girl's mother, who had previously been sitting silently, suddenly gave a voice. - Listen to dad, Delia, and don't wander around the surroundings alone.
- So will you allow me or not? - Delia repeated loudly and persistently, desperate to wait for a clear answer from her parents.
- No! - the father answered in the same tone, who was just reaching for the hot kettle to pour some tea into his mug.
- Now get ready for school, otherwise you'll be late! - mother said. - You already missed your exam yesterday!

The girl threw her half-eaten sandwich on the plate and, jumping up from the table, ran to her room, grabbing a suede jacket hanging on the dining room door as she went - because in five minutes her dad had to take her to school in his car. In the bedroom, she quickly collected her briefcase and rushed to the door that led to the street. The father still continued to eat breakfast, and only when the girl had already run out onto the porch did he deign to break away from food and reluctantly went to get dressed.

Meanwhile, Delia climbed onto the fence and sat down in her usual place, dangling her legs down. While waiting for her father to come out, she began to look into neighboring yard - indeed, her beloved Buffalo was no longer running on the other side of the fence, and Jordan himself was somehow not visible. But the girl did not attach much importance to this then, because she thought that he could either be at work, or he was simply sleeping until lunch (which often happened to him when the Delia's mother did not wake him up with a call in the morning).

Then, two days later, one morning the parents told their daughter that she would not go to school today - the thing is that the father will take the mother to the pharmacy where he worked because he will need her help. With these words, the parents locked the entrance door and left for the center, leaving Delia sitting at home alone. His daughter could not understand what was wrong - the reason her father gave seemed so unconvincing and ridiculous that she decided that some kind of trouble had happened in their family, which daddy for some reason did not want to talk about. And suddenly a hunch flashed through Delia's mind that her parents decided to hide something connected with ajussi Jo from her.

As soon as Delia heard that their car had driven away from the gate, she immediately rushed out of the hallway and, throwing open the shutters, stared out the window, which just looked out into adjacent yard. As before, not a soul was visible there - neither the Chien de Berger Belge nor its owner. Then the baby began to sob - quietly at first, then more and more loudly. Further she threw herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow, and a stream of tears flowed from her eyes at that very second.

When Delia calmed down a little, she again went to the windowsill and began to peer intensely into the window of the neighbour's house, hoping to see a familiar face in it, but alas, there was nothing behind the glass. The singing of birds reached the girl's ears, which at that moment seemed like a taunt to her - as if nature itself was mocking Delia, laughing at her grief. The poor thing wanted to cry again, but she didn't have the strength left to do so - then she made an effort and tried to pull herself together, but the feeling of trouble hanging over Delia's head did not leave her until her parents returned.

When the whole family gathered at the table in the evening, the girl noticed that the adults were clearly upset about something - one could feel tension and some kind of impotent anger in their movements. After reading the grace, they were silent for a minute or two, in no hurry to start eating, while her dad looked preoccupied and sad, and her mother was unusually quiet and absorbed in her thoughts. Soon the father, exchanging glances with his wife, suddenly turned to his daughter, who was sitting on his left hand.

- Delia, - he said with effort, turning to her. - I want to ask you for one favor.

At these words he swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat.

- What you means, daddy? - like holy innocence, the girl asked.

Delia could not imagine what he would ask for, but, sensing something was wrong, she instinctively tucked her legs under the chair and, looking up at her father, saw a strange sparkle in his eyes.

- Forget about him, - he said as he skated off. - About this Jordan, - father added gloomily.

The girl was ready to hear anything, but not this. Although, to be honest, from the very first day of moving to Portland, Delia suspected her father of hating his neighbour with all his heart, but she had never heard her dad express his dislike publicly before. Therefore, when the head of the family uttered these six words, they had no less effect on the girl than the very fact that Uncle Joe, along with Buffalo, had never deigned to please Delia with their presence in their former place.

The stunned little girl silently looked at her father, not finding the strength to speak - she only pressed herself tighter into the back of the chair and batted her eyelashes, as she often did in a state of extreme shock. Soon Delia managed to pull herself together and lick her lips, which were dry from excitement.

- Why, dad? - the girl stammered, constantly looking at the old man's wrinkled face.
- Because, sweetie, that ajussi Jo died, - he answered with surprising gentleness, popping a slice of bacon into his mouth.

Baby girl couldn't help but feel an appetite, looking at how intently daddy chewed the meat, but the words he said before plunged her into sadness again. She turned her gaze to her mother, but she, without uttering a single word, just shook her head mournfully, working diligently with her fork. Inside, the girl was burned with a feeling of shame for her behavior - after all, for good reason, she shouldn't have worried so much about some person who isn't even her relative. But Delia could not bring himself - She was too much impressed by her new neighbour, and now that her father had announced that Jordan was dead, she found it very difficult to take this words seriously.

- Died? In what sense? - she said blankly.

She secretly wished that daddy was just joking, and in fact ajussi Jo was just late at work and would not return home until tomorrow. Delia tensely waited for an answer, but her father was in no hurry with him - instead, he continued to devour pasta, thickly sprinkled with mushroom sauce, on both cheeks. Finally, having finished his portion, he wiped his greasy lips with a napkin and cleared his throat.

- There is such a disease, called cancer, - father began from afar.
- I don't see how this is... - she wanted to intervene, but her father raised his palm imperiously, and daughter had to be silent.
- When a person smokes and drinks a lot, - continued the old man, - then his body gradually withers like a plant, which no one watering.

Delia could not help but note to herself that this analogy was completely out of place in this situation, but what can you do - her father was just a medicine salesman, so it would be very reckless to expect beautiful metaphors and comparisons from him. Delia measured her father with a cold gaze, but he did not seem to notice the reproach in her eyes and poured himself another cup of tea. But her mother finally decided to intervene in their conversation - she threw her head back and, looking somewhere at the ceiling, began to stir with a spoon in her cup.

- A good child's a docile child, - she said detachedly.
- It's a very correct observation, - her husband nodded his head.

Their daughter was suddenly overcome with a feeling of righteous anger, as if her mother's moralizing remark had humiliated her, putting her on par with those pompous, mindless child models she had seen on television screen or on advertising boards. Delia could hardly contain herself, and all she could do was get up from the table and loudly stomp her foot.

- You'll be telling me, - she exclaimed throughout the dining room, - that the parents has no need of genius or thinkers, they need witless implementers!

The next second, she immediately ran out of the dining room, without having tried the delicious dishes that her mother had been tirelessly preparing for almost an hour before. After watching her daughter, the mother turned to her spouse - it was clear from her face that the girl's words made a strong impression on her.

- Santo Deus! - in Portuguese she said quietly but very expressively. - Do you know what she did?

The head of the family shrugged his shoulders and looked again at the doorway in which his little girl had disappeared. He thought to himself that Delia no slouch, she was kind of a chip off the old block - gives vent to anger as he had been in his time, and the look in her eyes just as piercing and merciless... But his wife called him away from his pleasant thoughts.

- Delia was quoting Robespierre before our eyes! - with these words the woman grabbed her head.
- Well, what's so wrong about that? ? - her husband asked indifferently, making himself more comfortable in his chair.
- Moreover, she did have the presence of mind to paraphrase his words! - his wife continued excitedly.
- Well, think of the trouble! Daughter is already eight years old, we should be happy that she is developing! - The head of the family answered phlegmatically.
- It's this violator, this infamous...

Delia's mother stopped mid-sentence, as if she was very unpleasant to say the name of the person who, in her opinion, taught her daughter some bad things. The father realized who she meant and stopped smiling.

- You can rest easy, honey, - he said seriously, looking away to the side. - We taught this varmint a lesson, and he will never dare to even get near our daughter again, though he might wish he could.

The sincere malice with which he uttered these words was instantly transmitted to his wife, causing her anemic face to become covered with red spots. She raised her head high and said proudly:

- Sim, querido! We took revenge for the insulted honour of our family! From now on, no one will dare to look askance at our girl!

The father's face softened, but the expression of deep concern remained in his eyes.He thought for a moment, which could not have escaped the attention of his better half, who, noticing the change in his mood, stopped her ranting and looked at her husband with sympathy.

- What are you thinking about, my joy? - she cooed. - You didn't like my tetrazzini?

She was referring to the pasta she served to her entire family.

- No, air that I breathe, - he answered. - The dinner was beyond all praise, and I'm sure you were very tired when you prepared it for me and our baby.

His spouse sighed with relief and leaned back in her chair.

- And therefore, - continued the old man, - I thought that you, blood in my veins, should take another person as your assistant, so that he would take care of our...

He didn't have time to finish his flattering speech - his wife, who had previously been quietly dozing at the table, in the blink of an eye woke up from her sleep and, in a frenzy, swung at him a porcelain sugar bowl, which she grabbed from the table.

- Take it easy, heavenly bliss, - said the father of the family, who reacted in time to the sudden thrust of his other half.
- I am not "heavenly bliss"! - the woman shouted in rage and hit her husband on the head with a saucer from a coffee cup.
- But listen, pleasures I've missed! - the old man begged, rubbing his bump. - What's wrong with hiring a nanny to look after our daughter?
- I will not tolerate some hoity-toity ninny with the wind in her head deciding for me, how to educate my Delia, my sacrosanct little one! - the mother of the family said.

The father couldn't agree more with his wife - if only because his own childhood was spent in a house where, in the absence of a parent, the duties of a governess were performed either by his older sister Brianne or aunt Jodelle (who was then still in her prime), but never by a stranger hired on the side. True, it was precisely for this reason that he wanted to get the babysitter - for in his heart the father wanted his child to grow up in much better conditions than himself, but such was the nature of his wife, and he could not deny her her noble desire to raise Delia herself, without the help of outsiders, although he saw how difficult it was for her.

Their daughter herself at this time wrapped her head in a blanket and tried her best to sleep, but the screams of her parents' quarrel coming from the dining room did not give her such an opportunity. Delia, although she was still too young, already understood what a heavy burden - to be a God's slave, and therefore she did not particularly complain about her fate, sometimes only sneaking a glance out the window, still hoping that her dear ajussi Jo was about to return to his home and take her away - if not forever, then at least for a while.

But alas, no matter how much she wanted it, but it didn't happen. Instead, Delia had a chance to witness how one fine day a truck drove up to a neighbour's house, from which men in uniform got out, who, having unloaded all of Jordan's property onto the street, tightly boarded up the windows and doors, after which they got into the car and sped off in an unknown direction. Delia was sad to watch this act of looting, but what could she do except clenching her fists, surrendering to sorrow and slough, hoping for God's mercy?

***

Thinking about ajussi Jo, Delia herself did not notice how she fell asleep. This time she dreamed of something very enjoyable - she was in some kind of grotto, the darkness of which was illuminated by a resin torch hanging on a rocky wall. The muffled sounds of the surf reached the girl’s ears, which were sometimes interrupted by the rare cries of seagulls and the distant creaking of the masts of ships invisible to her eyes. Despite the fact that Delia was sitting on a rock in only a light frock made of thin white lace, it was unusually warm in the grotto - apparently, the rocky formations had not yet cooled down after the heat of the day.

Peering into the darkness, which was barely dissipated by the dim light of the torch, Delia suddenly noticed that a person was sitting next to her on a small stone ledge. He was dressed in a robe made of rough fabric, which strongly reminded her of a monastic cassock, only for some reason the hood was pulled so low that the girl could not see the face of her companion, but something told her that under the brown cloth was hiding someone very close and dear to her.

Baby girl stared at the human figure next to her. The stranger, sensing the girl’s gaze on him, raised his head, and for a moment it seemed to Delia that two eyes flashed in the blackness of his hood, the sight of which took her breath away with delight mixed with embarrassment.

- Ajussi Jo! - she whispered with love in her voice. - Please tell me, is it really you?

Man in robe did not answer right away - as the girl understood, he was hesitating whether to please his little friend with such news or leave her in the belief that she had imagined it all. However, soon stranger nodded his head, and Delia heard his quiet voice, cracking and full of deep melancholy.

- Yes, Delia, It's me, - she heard a familiar voice.

Little girl barely suppressed the desire to throw herself on his neck. And he, too, probably did not feel very well - it seemed to her that he was noticeably stooped, and his shoulders trembled from time to time, as if he had a fever. Delia felt sorry for the man.

- Ajussi Jo, why are you hiding your face from me? - Delia asked him, rising from the stone.
- Sadly, - her interlocutor sighed, continuing to sit motionless in one position. - Society has hidden me from you, and I am now never visible to your eyes.
- Don't talk to me in riddles, - little girl said, starting to slowly approach him. - Make this clear, she asked Jordan.
- I mean those who separated us, - ajussi Jo answered sadly. - You hear them, don't you? - he suddenly turned to her.

Delia stopped halfway to ajussi Jo and froze, listening to the sounds coming from outside. And in fact, some distant voices were now mixed in with the soothing noise of the sea waves hitting the shore. The girl could not make out a single word, but she could determine from the voice that it was a crowd of men, which, as she could judge, was approaching their grotto. Soon the rude chatter of the people was joined by the shrill dogs barking. Apparently, the crowd let go ahead the Rottweilers - dogs that Delia hated with all her childhood heart.

- Ajussi Jo, I'm scared for all of us! - she exclaimed, falling to her knees in front of the robed figure.
- They won't hurt you, - Jordan said calmly, clearly trying to calm Delia down. - I'm the only one they want.
- No! I will not allow you to be captured! - she screamed, wringing her hands. - I'd rather die right here than hand you over to them!
- You've got a strong heart, - ajussi Jo continued just as sadly. - But you shouldn't risk yourself for me, I'm begging you...
- That's not fair! - Delia objected to him.
- Please, leave me here, - Jordan said. - I am not in your world, your little eyes cannot see me...
- Less nonsense, ajussi Jo! - cried the little girl.

Then Delia ran up to robbed figure, to embrace Jordan in her arms, but he stretched his hands forward, trying to prevent her from doing this. During this defensive maneuver, his hood accidentally fell back, and Delia, uttering a bloodcurdling cry, staggered back. Her long silky hair spread over her shoulders, and the wide, frightened eyes reflected the shadows dancing on the ceiling from the dim light of the torch.

Under the brown cloth, which still retained the outline of the human figure, there was absolutely nothing - through the neck Delia saw only the inside of the cassock...