The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and Selected Tales of the Jazz Age Сollection. Адаптированная книга для чтения на английском языке. Уровень B1. Фрэнсис Скотт Фицджеральд

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said the old man, «this baby is not going to wear it».

      Mr. Button turned to the nurse. «What shall I do?»

      «Go downtown and buy your son some clothes».

      Mr. Button's son's voice followed him down into the hall: «And a cane, father. I want to have a cane».

      Chapter 2

      «Good morning», Mr. Button said nervously to the clerk in the store. «I want to buy some clothes for my child».

      «How old is your child, sir?»

      «About six hours», answered Mr. Button, without thinking.

      «Babies' department is there».

      «Why, I don't think – I'm not sure that's what I want. It's – he's an unusually large-size child. Extremely large».

      «They have the largest child's sizes».

      «Where is the boys' department?» asked Mr. Button. He felt that the clerk could see his shame. He felt that the clerk must know his shameful secret.

      «Right here».

      «Well…» He hesitated. He couldn't stand the idea of dressing his son in men's clothes. If, say, he could only find a very large boy's suit, he might cut off that long and awful beard, dye the white hair brown, then he would manage to hide the worst, and to keep his own self-respect – not to mention[14]his position in Baltimore society.

      But there were no suits of his new-born son's size in the boys' department. He blamed the store, of course – in such cases one could blame only the store.

      «How old did you say that boy of yours was?» demanded the clerk curiously.

      «He's – sixteen».

      «Oh, I beg your pardon. I thought you said six hours. You'll find the youths' department in the next room».

      Mr. Button turned sadly away. Then he stopped, as he saw a dressed model in the window display. «There!» he pointed his finger toward the window display. «I'll take that suit, out there on the model».

      The clerk stared. «Why», he protested, «that's not a child's suit. It's a fancy dress[15]. You could wear it yourself!»

      «Wrap it up», insisted his customer nervously. «That's what I want».

      The astonished clerk obeyed.

      When Mr. Button came back to the hospital, he almost threw the package at his son. «Here are your clothes», he said angrily.

      The old man opened the package and examined the dress with a puzzled look.

      «It looks funny to me», he complained, «It will make a monkey of me…»

      «You've made a monkey of me!» interrupted him Mr. Button. «Don't think how funny you look. Put them on – or I'll – or I'll spank you». He felt uneasy when he said the word but somehow he understood that it was the proper thing to say.

      «All right, father, you've lived longer; you know best. Just as you say».

      This sounded to Mr. Button as a grotesque respect from a son and the word «father» made him tremble.

      «And hurry».

      «I'm hurrying, father».

      When his son was dressed Mr. Button examined him with depression. The costume consisted of pink pants and a blouse with a wide white collar. The long gray beard fell almost to the waist. The effect was not good.

      «Wait!»

      Mr. Button took hospital scissors and cut a large section of the beard. But even with this improvement the impression was far from perfect. The remaining part of the beard, the pale eyes, and the ancient teeth seemed strange in combination with the bright colors of the costume. Mr. Button, however, refused to change his plan – he held out his hand and said firmly. «Come along!»

      His son took the hand. «What are you going to call me, dad?» he asked in a trembling voice as they walked from the hospital – «just ‘baby' for a while? till you think of a better name?»

      «I don't know», grumbled Mr. Button. «I think we'll call you Methuselah[16]».

      Chapter 3

      Even after a baby had his hair cut short and then dyed to an unnatural black, and had his face shaved, and then was dressed in small-boy clothes, it was impossible for Button to ignore the fact that his son was a shame for the Button family. Despite his aged stoop, Benjamin Button – for they called him this name instead of the proper but humiliating name Methuselah – was five feet eight inches[17] tall. His clothes did not hide this, his dyed black eyebrows did not hide the fact that the eyes were pale and tired. In fact, the baby-sitter, who was employed by the family, left the house after one look at him, in a state of indignation.

      But Mr. Button was firm in his decision. Benjamin was a baby, and he should remain a baby. At first he declared that if Benjamin didn't like warm milk he could do without[18] food at all, but he finally allowed his son to have bread and butter, and even oatmeal as a compromise. One day he brought home a rattle[19] and, giving it to Benjamin, insisted that he should «play with it», so the old man obeyed and took it with a dull expression. He shook the rattle from time to time[20] during the day.

      There was no doubt, however, that the rattle bored him, and that he found other and more pleasant amusements when he was left alone. Mr. Button discovered one day that during the last week he had smoked more cigars than ever before – a phenomenon, which was explained a few days later when he entered his son's room and found it full of faint smoke. Benjamin, with a guilty expression on his face, was trying to hide the dark Havana cigar. Mr. Button, of course, had to spank the child, but he found that he could not make himself do it. He only said to his son that smoking would «stop his growth».

      Mr. Button was still firm in his attitude. He brought home lead soldiers, he brought toy trains, he brought large pleasant animals made of cotton, and, to keep the illusion which he was creating – for himself at least – he passionately asked the clerk in the toy-store whether «the paint would come off the pink duck if the baby put it in his mouth». But, despite all his father's efforts, Benjamin refused to be interested. He often went down the back stairs secretly and returned to his room with a volume of the Encyclopedia Britannica, which he could read through an afternoon, ignoring his cotton cows and his Noah's ark[21], which were left on the floor. Mr. Button's efforts were useless against such stubbornness.

      The sensation created in Baltimore was, at first, enormous. No-one can say what the misfortune it would cost the Button family socially, but the sudden start of the Civil War[22] drew the city's attention to other things. A few people, who were always polite, tried their best to think of compliments for the parents – and finally decided to declare that the baby looked like his grandfather, a fact which seemed true, due to the state of decay typical for all men of seventy. Mr. and Mrs. Roger Button were not pleased, and Benjamin's grandfather was extremely insulted.

      Benjamin, after he left the hospital, took life as it was, without complaining. Once several small boys were brought to see him, and he spent a dull afternoon trying to show an interest in toys and games – he even managed to break a kitchen window with a stone, an incident which secretly delighted his father.

      Since then Benjamin tried to break something every day, but he did these things only because he wanted to please his father and because he was by nature helpful.

      When his grandfather's original dislike went away, Benjamin and that gentleman took enormous pleasure in one another's company. They could sit for hours, so different in age and experience, and, like old friends,

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