Chapter II.II

Mister Thurlow couldn't help and laugh at his vision. The old women sitting on either side of him shuddered in unison. Jo heard the dissatisfied hiss of some tradeswoman - seems to be the one who sold fruit. But to him, tired from this day culturologist, somehow didn’t care what these uneducated broody thought about him. He didn’t try to restrain this sudden flow of fun that fell on him and laughed until old Martin suddenly turned around and waved his hairy fist right in front of his nose. Non-conflict - and to be honest, cowardly - Jo immediately stopped neighing like a horse, and the driver, muttering rude words to the ill-mannered youth, put his hands on the steering wheel again.

Five minutes later, the bus finally brought the entire mass of people rushing home to their home village, and mister Thurlow, who was lucky enough to stand right at the exit, immediately jumped off the bus, raising clouds of dust. The merchant women following him began to loudly swear after him, but he, being in a cheerful mood - which Martin’s fist still could not completely extinguish - almost flew to his house. Why was Jo having so much fun? Was it really the image of a gorilla rising early in the morning that his mind painted that caused such a paroxysm of ecstasy in him? Mister Thurlow did not understand psychology, so he stopped thinking about his own behavior, and, having moved away to a safe distance from the bus stop, he slowed down slightly.

Be that as it may, fatigue made itself felt. Approaching his home closer and closer, the mischievous spark of fun inside Jo finally went out, and he, with his head down, seemed to force himself to walk. Having reached the fence of old Harris's house, he suddenly stopped rooted to the spot. At first, Jo himself did not understand why this happened. He continued to stare at his feet, but with his whole body he suddenly felt a strange feeling, as if a hundred people were looking at him at the same time. The legs did not obey their owner, and for a couple of seconds Jo could not even move his neck. "What kind of misfortune is this?", he thought.

Time seemed to freeze around mister Thurlow - because for him two seconds passed as slowly as if two millennia. In addition, he felt the heat begin to spread throughout his body, and it seemed that just a little more, and his skin, unable to withstand the high temperature, would begin to melt. But, thank God, this feeling has finally left him. Jo seemed to have woken up from a nightmare. He looked around. The sun has already set and darkness has not yet fallen on the earth. Birds were sitting on a tree on the other side of the road.

With their soothing chatter, Jo was able to shake out this strange disease. He had already decided to go to the gate of his house, but something made him glance at the house of old Harris. The lights had not yet been turned on in the rooms, so the windows that looked out onto the road did not stand out against the general background of the house. Not having strong eyesight, mister Thurlow was about to turn his head back when he suddenly saw a small human figure in the leftmost window of the second floor.

It was a little girl. It was not clear what she was wearing, because from here mister Thurlow could only see her head. She had long and tousled black hair with a small bun on top of her head. The young stranger's face had a hint of some subtle cunning. The child looked directly at Jo with curiosity. What attracted her? Maybe it was his confused look? It seemed to Jo that this was precisely the case, for her lips stretched into a smile. How long did they look at each other like that? Mister Thurlow no longer remembered this. But the piercing gaze of this pair of eyes seemed to drill right through him. He moved awkwardly, still looking out the window. Little girl said something (mister Thurlow could not have heard her words from such a distance) and her head disappeared from the square of the window, in which gray curtains now occupied all the space.

Jo came close to his gate and, catching in his ear the barking of his faithful dog, who was running on the other side of the fence, with shaking hands he pulled out the key and inserted it into the keyhole. He crossed the threshold of the wicket and, shouting at Buffalo, who was joyfully jumping on his owner, locked it behind him. Putting the keys in his pocket, he squatted down and patted the dog's head.

- Well, chum, I suffered today... How are you? - as if addressing a child, he stammered

Buffalo tried to lick his owner, but Jo got up in time and, wiping his hands on a handkerchief, grabbed an armful of laundry, which he had hung on the clothesline since yesterday, and went into the house. He had thoughts in his head that he, such a bungler, forgot to buy the dog something to eat, but fatigue prevailed over all other feelings, and in the end Jo headed to the bath. There he turned on the tap and, while the bathtub was filling, carefully laid out the dried clothes so that at the end of the washing up they were within easy reach. Then Jo hastily took off all his clothes and, in what the mother gave birth, plopped into his own ocean, which consisted of hot water and soap suds. It seemed to him that all the stress he had experienced that day was draining from his body into the water. While soaking in the bath, he could finally, with a clear conscience, forget about all his worries and become like a carefree seal.

Jo continued to lie in the now cold water, until suddenly a trill of a telephone call was heard from the next room. With some laziness, he began to get out of the bath and, putting on clean clothes, wondered who could call him at such a very late time. After getting dressed, Jo pulled on his favourite slippers and went into the bedroom. Before picked up the phone, which was on the nightstand near the door, Jo noticed that he had forgotten to draw the curtains some days ago.