章节正文
for the moment that the one drink had affected him; but I understood
before the night was over. He laid his hand on my shoulder with a grip
like a man who has suddenly made up his mind to lend you five pounds.
`Jack!' he said, `there's worse things than drinking, and there's worse things
than heavy smoking. When a man who smokes gets such a load of trouble on him
that he can find no comfort in his pipe, then it's a heavy load.
And when a man who drinks gets so deep into trouble that he can find
no comfort in liquor, then it's deep trouble. Take my tip for it, Jack.'
He broke off, and half turned away with a jerk of his head,
as if impatient with himself; then presently he spoke
in his usual quiet tone --
`But you're only a boy yet, Jack. Never mind me. I won't ask you
to take the second drink. You don't want it; and, besides, I know the signs.'
He paused, leaning with both hands on the edge of the counter,
and looking down between his arms at the floor. He stood that way
thinking for a while; then he suddenly straightened up,
like a man who'd made up his mind to something.
`I want you to come along home with me, Jack,' he said;
`we'll fix you a shake-down.'
I forgot to tell you that he was married and lived in Bathurst.
`But won't it put Mrs Head about?'
`Not at all. She's expecting you. Come along; there's nothing to see
in Bathurst, and you'll have plenty of knocking round in Sydney.
Come on, we'll just be in time for tea.'
He lived in a brick cottage on the outskirts of the town --
an old-fashionedcottage, with ivy and climbing roses,
like you see in some of those old settled districts. There was,
I remember, the stump of a tree in front, covered with ivy
till it looked like a giant's club with the thick end up.
When we got to the house the Boss paused a minute with his hand on the gate.
He'd been home a couple of days, having ridden in ahead of the bullocks.
`Jack,' he said, `I must tell you that Mrs Head had a great trouble
at one time. We -- we lost our two children. It does her good
to talk to a stranger now and again -- she's always better afterwards;
but there's very few I care to bring. You -- you needn't notice
anything strange. And agree with her, Jack. You know, Jack.'
`That's all right, Boss,' I said. I'd knocked about the Bush too long,
and run against too many strange characters and things,
to be surprised at anything much.
The door opened, and he took a little woman in his arms.
I saw by the light of a lamp in the room behind that the woman's hair
was grey, and I reckoned that he had his mother living with him.
And -- we do have odd thoughts at odd times in a flash -- and I wondered
how Mrs Head and her mother-in-law got on together. But the next minute
I was in the room, and introduced to `My wife, Mrs Head,'
and staring at her with both eyes.
It was his wife. I don't think I can describe her. For the first
minute or two, coming in out of the dark and before my eyes
got used to the lamp-light, I had an impression as of a little old woman
-- one of those fresh-faced, well-preserved, little old ladies --
who dressed young, wore false teeth, and aped the giddy girl.
But this was because of Mrs Head's impulsivewelcome of me, and her grey hair.
The hair was not so grey as I thought at first, seeing it with the lamp-light
behind it: it was like dull-brown hair lightly dusted with flour.
She wore it short, and it became her that way. There was something
aristocratic about her face -- her nose and chin -- I fancied,
and something that you couldn't describe. She had big dark eyes --
dark-brown, I thought, though they might have been hazel:
they were a bit too big and bright for me, and now and again,
when she got excited, the white showed all round the pupils -- just a little,
but a little was enough.
She seemed extra glad to see me. I thought at first
that she was a bit of a gusher.
`Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Mr Ellis,' she said, giving my hand a grip.
`Walter -- Mr Head -- has been speaking to me about you.
I've been expecting you. Sit down by the fire, Mr Ellis;
tea will be ready presently. Don't you find it a bit chilly?'
She shivered. It was a bit chilly now at night on the Bathurst plains.
The table was set for tea, and set rather in swell style.
The cottage was too well furnished even for a lucky boss drover's home;
the furniture looked as if it had belonged to a tony homestead at one time.
I felt a bit strange at first, sitting down to tea, and almost wished that
I was having a comfortable tuck-in at a restaurant or in a pub. dining-room.
But she knew a lot about the Bush, and chatted away,
and asked questions about the trip, and soon put me at my ease.
You see, for the last year or two I'd taken my tucker in my hands, --
hunk of damper and meat and a clasp-knife mostly, -- sitting on my heel
in the dust, or on a log or a tucker-box.
There was a hard, brown, wrinkled old woman that the Heads called `Auntie'.
She waited at the table; but Mrs Head kept bustling round herself
most of the time, helping us. Andy came in to tea.
Mrs Head bustled round like a girl of twenty instead of
a woman of thirty-seven, as Andy afterwards told me she was.
She had the figure and movements of a girl, and the impulsiveness
and expression too -- a womanly girl; but sometimes I fancied
there was something very childish about her face and talk. After tea
she and the Boss sat on one side of the fire and Andy and I on the other --
Andy a little behind me at the corner of the table.
`Walter -- Mr Head -- tells me you've been out on the Lachlan river,
Mr Ellis?' she said as soon as she'd settled down, and she leaned forward,
as if eager to hear that I'd been there.
`Yes, Mrs Head. I've knocked round all about out there.'
She sat up straight, and put the tips of her fingers to the side
of her forehead and knitted her brows. This was a trick she had --
she often did it during the evening. And when she did that
she seemed to forget what she'd said last.
She smoothed her forehead, and clasped her hands in her lap.
`Oh, I'm so glad to meet somebody from the back country, Mr Ellis,' she said.
`Walter so seldom brings a stranger here, and I get tired of talking
to the same people about the same things, and seeing the same faces.
You don't know what a relief it is, Mr Ellis, to see a new face
and talk to a stranger.'
`I can quite understand that, Mrs Head,' I said. And so I could.
I never stayed more than three months in one place if I could help it.
She looked into the fire and seemed to try to think. The Boss straightened up
and stroked her head with his big sun-browned hand, and then put his arm
round her shoulders. This brought her back.
`You know we had a station out on the Lachlan, Mr Ellis.
Did Walter ever tell you about the time we lived there?'
`No,' I said, glancing at the Boss. `I know you had a station there;
but, you know, the Boss doesn't talk much.'
`Tell Jack, Maggie,' said the Boss; `I don't mind.'
She smiled. `You know Walter, Mr Ellis,' she said. `You won't mind him.
He doesn't like me to talk about the children; he thinks it upsets me,
but that's foolish: it always relieves me to talk to a stranger.'
She leaned forward, eagerly it seemed, and went on quickly:
`I've been wanting to tell you about the children ever since Walter
spoke to me about you. I knew you would understand directly I saw your face.
These town people don't understand. I like to talk to a Bushman.
You know we lost our children out on the station. The fairies took them.
Did Walter ever tell you about the fairies taking the children away?'
This was a facer. `I -- I beg pardon,' I commenced, when Andy gave me
a dig in the back. Then I saw it all.
`No, Mrs Head. The Boss didn't tell me about that.'
`You surely know about the Bush Fairies, Mr Ellis,' she said,
her big eyes fixed on my face -- `the Bush Fairies that look after
the little ones that are lost in the Bush, and take them away from the Bush
if they are not found? You've surely heard of them, Mr Ellis?
Most Bushmen have that I've spoken to. Maybe you've seen them?
Andy there has?' Andy gave me another dig.
`Of course I've heard of them, Mrs Head,' I said; `but I can't swear
that I've seen one.'
`Andy has. Haven't you, Andy?'
`Of course I have, Mrs Head. Didn't I tell you all about it
the last time we were home?'
`And didn't you ever tell Mr Ellis, Andy?'
`Of course he did!' I said, coming to Andy's rescue; `I remember it now.
You told me that night we camped on the Bogan river, Andy.'
`Of course!' said Andy.
`Did he tell you about finding a lost child and the fairy with it?'
`Yes,' said Andy; `I told him all about that.'
`And the fairy was just going to take the child away when Andy found it,
and when the fairy saw Andy she flew away.'
`Yes,' I said; `that's what Andy told me.'
`And what did you say the fairy was like, Andy?' asked Mrs Head,
fixing her eyes on his face.
`Like. It was like one of them angels you see in Bible pictures, Mrs Head,'
said Andy promptly, sitting bolt upright, and keeping his big
innocent grey eyes fixed on hers lest she might think he was telling lies.
`It was just like the angel in that Christ-in-the-stable picture
we had at home on the station -- the right-hand one in blue.'
She smiled. You couldn't call it an idiotic smile,
nor the foolish smile you see sometimes in melancholy mad people.
It was more of a happy childish smile.
`I was so foolish at first, and gave poor Walter and the doctors
a lot of trouble,' she said. `Of course it never struck me, until afterwards,
that the fairies had taken the children.'
She pressed the tips of the fingers of both hands to her forehead,
and sat so for a while; then she roused herself again --
`But what am I thinking about? I haven't started to tell you
about the children at all yet. Auntie! bring the children's portraits,
will you, please? You'll find them on my dressing-table.'
The old woman seemed to hesitate.
`Go on, Auntie, and do what I ask you,' said Mrs Head. `Don't be foolish.
You know I'm all right now.'
`You mustn't take any notice of Auntie, Mr Ellis,' she said with a smile,
while the old woman's back was turned. `Poor old body,
she's a bit crotchety at times, as old women are. She doesn't like me to get
talking about the children. She's got an idea that if I do
I'll start talking nonsense, as I used to do the first year
after the children were lost. I was very foolish then, wasn't I, Walter?'
`You were, Maggie,' said the Boss. `But that's all past.
You mustn't think of that time any more.'
`You see,' said Mrs Head, in explanation to me, `at first
nothing would drive it out of my head that the children had wandered about
until they perished of hunger and thirst in the Bush. As if the Bush Fairies
would let them do that.'
`You were very foolish, Maggie,' said the Boss; `but don't think about that.'
The old woman brought the portraits, a little boy and a little girl:
they must have been very pretty children.
`You see,' said Mrs Head, taking the portraits eagerly, and giving them to me
one by one, `we had these taken in Sydney some years before the children
were lost; they were much younger then. Wally's is not a good portrait;
he was teething then, and very thin. That's him standing on the chair.
Isn't the pose good? See, he's got one hand and one little foot forward,
and an eager look in his eyes. The portrait is very dark,
and you've got to look close to see the foot. He wants a toy rabbit
that the photographer is tossing up to make him laugh. In the next portrait
he's sitting on the chair -- he's just settled himself to enjoy the fun.
But see how happy little Maggie looks! You can see my arm
where I was holding her in the chair. She was six months old then,
and little Wally had just turned two.'
She put the portraits up on the mantel-shelf.
`Let me see; Wally (that's little Walter, you know) --
Wally was five and little Maggie three and a half when we lost them.
Weren't they, Walter?'
`Yes, Maggie,' said the Boss.
`You were away, Walter, when it happened.'
`Yes, Maggie,' said the Boss -- cheerfully, it seemed to me -- `I was away.'
`And we couldn't find you, Walter. You see,' she said to me,
`Walter -- Mr Head -- was away in Sydney on business, and we couldn't find
before the night was over. He laid his hand on my shoulder with a grip
like a man who has suddenly made up his mind to lend you five pounds.
`Jack!' he said, `there's worse things than drinking, and there's worse things
than heavy smoking. When a man who smokes gets such a load of trouble on him
that he can find no comfort in his pipe, then it's a heavy load.
And when a man who drinks gets so deep into trouble that he can find
no comfort in liquor, then it's deep trouble. Take my tip for it, Jack.'
He broke off, and half turned away with a jerk of his head,
as if impatient with himself; then presently he spoke
in his usual quiet tone --
`But you're only a boy yet, Jack. Never mind me. I won't ask you
to take the second drink. You don't want it; and, besides, I know the signs.'
He paused, leaning with both hands on the edge of the counter,
and looking down between his arms at the floor. He stood that way
thinking for a while; then he suddenly straightened up,
like a man who'd made up his mind to something.
`I want you to come along home with me, Jack,' he said;
`we'll fix you a shake-down.'
I forgot to tell you that he was married and lived in Bathurst.
`But won't it put Mrs Head about?'
`Not at all. She's expecting you. Come along; there's nothing to see
in Bathurst, and you'll have plenty of knocking round in Sydney.
Come on, we'll just be in time for tea.'
He lived in a brick cottage on the outskirts of the town --
an old-fashionedcottage, with ivy and climbing roses,
like you see in some of those old settled districts. There was,
I remember, the stump of a tree in front, covered with ivy
till it looked like a giant's club with the thick end up.
When we got to the house the Boss paused a minute with his hand on the gate.
He'd been home a couple of days, having ridden in ahead of the bullocks.
`Jack,' he said, `I must tell you that Mrs Head had a great trouble
at one time. We -- we lost our two children. It does her good
to talk to a stranger now and again -- she's always better afterwards;
but there's very few I care to bring. You -- you needn't notice
anything strange. And agree with her, Jack. You know, Jack.'
`That's all right, Boss,' I said. I'd knocked about the Bush too long,
and run against too many strange characters and things,
to be surprised at anything much.
The door opened, and he took a little woman in his arms.
I saw by the light of a lamp in the room behind that the woman's hair
was grey, and I reckoned that he had his mother living with him.
And -- we do have odd thoughts at odd times in a flash -- and I wondered
how Mrs Head and her mother-in-law got on together. But the next minute
I was in the room, and introduced to `My wife, Mrs Head,'
and staring at her with both eyes.
It was his wife. I don't think I can describe her. For the first
minute or two, coming in out of the dark and before my eyes
got used to the lamp-light, I had an impression as of a little old woman
-- one of those fresh-faced, well-preserved, little old ladies --
who dressed young, wore false teeth, and aped the giddy girl.
But this was because of Mrs Head's impulsivewelcome of me, and her grey hair.
The hair was not so grey as I thought at first, seeing it with the lamp-light
behind it: it was like dull-brown hair lightly dusted with flour.
She wore it short, and it became her that way. There was something
aristocratic about her face -- her nose and chin -- I fancied,
and something that you couldn't describe. She had big dark eyes --
dark-brown, I thought, though they might have been hazel:
they were a bit too big and bright for me, and now and again,
when she got excited, the white showed all round the pupils -- just a little,
but a little was enough.
She seemed extra glad to see me. I thought at first
that she was a bit of a gusher.
`Oh, I'm so glad you've come, Mr Ellis,' she said, giving my hand a grip.
`Walter -- Mr Head -- has been speaking to me about you.
I've been expecting you. Sit down by the fire, Mr Ellis;
tea will be ready presently. Don't you find it a bit chilly?'
She shivered. It was a bit chilly now at night on the Bathurst plains.
The table was set for tea, and set rather in swell style.
The cottage was too well furnished even for a lucky boss drover's home;
the furniture looked as if it had belonged to a tony homestead at one time.
I felt a bit strange at first, sitting down to tea, and almost wished that
I was having a comfortable tuck-in at a restaurant or in a pub. dining-room.
But she knew a lot about the Bush, and chatted away,
and asked questions about the trip, and soon put me at my ease.
You see, for the last year or two I'd taken my tucker in my hands, --
hunk of damper and meat and a clasp-knife mostly, -- sitting on my heel
in the dust, or on a log or a tucker-box.
There was a hard, brown, wrinkled old woman that the Heads called `Auntie'.
She waited at the table; but Mrs Head kept bustling round herself
most of the time, helping us. Andy came in to tea.
Mrs Head bustled round like a girl of twenty instead of
a woman of thirty-seven, as Andy afterwards told me she was.
She had the figure and movements of a girl, and the impulsiveness
and expression too -- a womanly girl; but sometimes I fancied
there was something very childish about her face and talk. After tea
she and the Boss sat on one side of the fire and Andy and I on the other --
Andy a little behind me at the corner of the table.
`Walter -- Mr Head -- tells me you've been out on the Lachlan river,
Mr Ellis?' she said as soon as she'd settled down, and she leaned forward,
as if eager to hear that I'd been there.
`Yes, Mrs Head. I've knocked round all about out there.'
She sat up straight, and put the tips of her fingers to the side
of her forehead and knitted her brows. This was a trick she had --
she often did it during the evening. And when she did that
she seemed to forget what she'd said last.
She smoothed her forehead, and clasped her hands in her lap.
`Oh, I'm so glad to meet somebody from the back country, Mr Ellis,' she said.
`Walter so seldom brings a stranger here, and I get tired of talking
to the same people about the same things, and seeing the same faces.
You don't know what a relief it is, Mr Ellis, to see a new face
and talk to a stranger.'
`I can quite understand that, Mrs Head,' I said. And so I could.
I never stayed more than three months in one place if I could help it.
She looked into the fire and seemed to try to think. The Boss straightened up
and stroked her head with his big sun-browned hand, and then put his arm
round her shoulders. This brought her back.
`You know we had a station out on the Lachlan, Mr Ellis.
Did Walter ever tell you about the time we lived there?'
`No,' I said, glancing at the Boss. `I know you had a station there;
but, you know, the Boss doesn't talk much.'
`Tell Jack, Maggie,' said the Boss; `I don't mind.'
She smiled. `You know Walter, Mr Ellis,' she said. `You won't mind him.
He doesn't like me to talk about the children; he thinks it upsets me,
but that's foolish: it always relieves me to talk to a stranger.'
She leaned forward, eagerly it seemed, and went on quickly:
`I've been wanting to tell you about the children ever since Walter
spoke to me about you. I knew you would understand directly I saw your face.
These town people don't understand. I like to talk to a Bushman.
You know we lost our children out on the station. The fairies took them.
Did Walter ever tell you about the fairies taking the children away?'
This was a facer. `I -- I beg pardon,' I commenced, when Andy gave me
a dig in the back. Then I saw it all.
`No, Mrs Head. The Boss didn't tell me about that.'
`You surely know about the Bush Fairies, Mr Ellis,' she said,
her big eyes fixed on my face -- `the Bush Fairies that look after
the little ones that are lost in the Bush, and take them away from the Bush
if they are not found? You've surely heard of them, Mr Ellis?
Most Bushmen have that I've spoken to. Maybe you've seen them?
Andy there has?' Andy gave me another dig.
`Of course I've heard of them, Mrs Head,' I said; `but I can't swear
that I've seen one.'
`Andy has. Haven't you, Andy?'
`Of course I have, Mrs Head. Didn't I tell you all about it
the last time we were home?'
`And didn't you ever tell Mr Ellis, Andy?'
`Of course he did!' I said, coming to Andy's rescue; `I remember it now.
You told me that night we camped on the Bogan river, Andy.'
`Of course!' said Andy.
`Did he tell you about finding a lost child and the fairy with it?'
`Yes,' said Andy; `I told him all about that.'
`And the fairy was just going to take the child away when Andy found it,
and when the fairy saw Andy she flew away.'
`Yes,' I said; `that's what Andy told me.'
`And what did you say the fairy was like, Andy?' asked Mrs Head,
fixing her eyes on his face.
`Like. It was like one of them angels you see in Bible pictures, Mrs Head,'
said Andy promptly, sitting bolt upright, and keeping his big
innocent grey eyes fixed on hers lest she might think he was telling lies.
`It was just like the angel in that Christ-in-the-stable picture
we had at home on the station -- the right-hand one in blue.'
She smiled. You couldn't call it an idiotic smile,
nor the foolish smile you see sometimes in melancholy mad people.
It was more of a happy childish smile.
`I was so foolish at first, and gave poor Walter and the doctors
a lot of trouble,' she said. `Of course it never struck me, until afterwards,
that the fairies had taken the children.'
She pressed the tips of the fingers of both hands to her forehead,
and sat so for a while; then she roused herself again --
`But what am I thinking about? I haven't started to tell you
about the children at all yet. Auntie! bring the children's portraits,
will you, please? You'll find them on my dressing-table.'
The old woman seemed to hesitate.
`Go on, Auntie, and do what I ask you,' said Mrs Head. `Don't be foolish.
You know I'm all right now.'
`You mustn't take any notice of Auntie, Mr Ellis,' she said with a smile,
while the old woman's back was turned. `Poor old body,
she's a bit crotchety at times, as old women are. She doesn't like me to get
talking about the children. She's got an idea that if I do
I'll start talking nonsense, as I used to do the first year
after the children were lost. I was very foolish then, wasn't I, Walter?'
`You were, Maggie,' said the Boss. `But that's all past.
You mustn't think of that time any more.'
`You see,' said Mrs Head, in explanation to me, `at first
nothing would drive it out of my head that the children had wandered about
until they perished of hunger and thirst in the Bush. As if the Bush Fairies
would let them do that.'
`You were very foolish, Maggie,' said the Boss; `but don't think about that.'
The old woman brought the portraits, a little boy and a little girl:
they must have been very pretty children.
`You see,' said Mrs Head, taking the portraits eagerly, and giving them to me
one by one, `we had these taken in Sydney some years before the children
were lost; they were much younger then. Wally's is not a good portrait;
he was teething then, and very thin. That's him standing on the chair.
Isn't the pose good? See, he's got one hand and one little foot forward,
and an eager look in his eyes. The portrait is very dark,
and you've got to look close to see the foot. He wants a toy rabbit
that the photographer is tossing up to make him laugh. In the next portrait
he's sitting on the chair -- he's just settled himself to enjoy the fun.
But see how happy little Maggie looks! You can see my arm
where I was holding her in the chair. She was six months old then,
and little Wally had just turned two.'
She put the portraits up on the mantel-shelf.
`Let me see; Wally (that's little Walter, you know) --
Wally was five and little Maggie three and a half when we lost them.
Weren't they, Walter?'
`Yes, Maggie,' said the Boss.
`You were away, Walter, when it happened.'
`Yes, Maggie,' said the Boss -- cheerfully, it seemed to me -- `I was away.'
`And we couldn't find you, Walter. You see,' she said to me,
`Walter -- Mr Head -- was away in Sydney on business, and we couldn't find
- liquor [´likə]
n.酒类；(溶)液 (初中英语单词) - presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- cottage [´kɔtidʒ] n.村舍；小屋；小别墅 (初中英语单词)
- old-fashioned [´əuld´feʃənd] a.老式的；过时的 (初中英语单词)
- impression [im´preʃən] n.印刷；印象；效果 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- lightly [´laitli] ad.轻微地，稍微 (初中英语单词)
- chilly [´tʃili] a.凉飕飕的 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- mostly [´məustli] ad.主要地；多半；通常 (初中英语单词)
- childish [´tʃaildiʃ] a.孩子的；幼稚的 (初中英语单词)
- forehead [´fɔrid] n.额，前部 (初中英语单词)
- relief [ri´li:f] n.救济；援救；减轻 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- rescue [´reskju:] vt.&n.救援；挽救 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- hunger [´hʌŋgə] n.饥饿；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- thirst [θə:st] n.渴，口渴；渴望 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- impatient [im´peiʃənt] a.不耐烦的，急躁的 (高中英语单词)
- seeing [si:iŋ] see的现在分词 n.视觉 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- upright [´ʌprait] a.直立的 ad.直立地 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- nonsense [´nɔnsəns] n.胡说 int.胡说!废话 (高中英语单词)
- portrait [´pɔ:trit] n.肖像；相片；雕像 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- ridden [´ridn] ride 的过去分词 (英语四级单词)
- homestead [´həumsted] n.家宅，宅基 (英语四级单词)
- right-hand [´rait´hænd] a.右手的，右边的 (英语四级单词)
- affected [ə´fektid] a.做作的；假装的 (英语六级单词)
- outskirts [´autskə:ts] n.外边；郊区 (英语六级单词)
- impulsive [im´pʌlsiv] a.易冲动的 (英语六级单词)
- speaking [´spi:kiŋ] n.说话 a.发言的 (英语六级单词)
- wanting [´wɔntiŋ, wɑ:n-] a.短缺的；不足的 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- sydney [´sidni] n.悉尼 (英语六级单词)
- holding [´həuldiŋ] n.保持，固定，存储 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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