章节正文
you go past."
"It's my best hat," said Rebecca
"Take it upstairs then and put it in the clothes-
press; but I shouldn't 'a' thought you'd 'a' worn
your best hat on the stage."
"It's my only hat," explained Rebecca. "My
everyday hat wasn't good enough to bring. Fanny's
going to finish it."
"Lay your parasol in the entry closet."
"Do you mind if I keep it in my room, please?
It always seems safer."
"There ain't any thieves hereabouts, and if there
was, I guess they wouldn't make for your sunshade,
but come along. Remember to always go up the
back way; we don't use the front stairs on account
o' the carpet; take care o' the turn and don't ketch
your foot; look to your right and go in. When
you've washed your face and hands and brushed
your hair you can come down, and by and by
we'll unpack your trunk and get you settled before
supper. Ain't you got your dress on hind sid' foremost?"
Rebecca drew her chin down and looked at the
row of smoked pearl buttons running up and down
the middle of her flat little chest.
"Hind side foremost? Oh, I see! No, that's all
right. If you have seven children you can't keep
buttonin' and unbuttonin' 'em all the time--they
have to do themselves. We're always buttoned up
in front at our house. Mira's only three, but she's
buttoned up in front, too."
Miranda said nothing as she closed the door, but
her looks were at once equivalent to and more
eloquent than words.
Rebecca stood perfectly still in the centre of the
floor and looked about her. There was a square of
oilcloth in front of each article of furniture and a
drawn-in rug beside the single four poster, which
was covered with a fringed white dimity counterpane.
Everything was as neat as wax, but the ceilings
were much higher than Rebecca was accustomed to.
It was a north room, and the window, which was
long and narrow, looked out on the back buildings
and the barn.
It was not the room, which was far more comfortable
than Rebecca's own at the farm, nor the lack
of view, nor yet the long journey, for she was not
conscious of weariness; it was not the fear of a
strange place, for she loved new places and courted
new sensations; it was because of some curious
blending of uncomprehended emotions that Rebecca
stood her sunshade in the corner, tore off her best
hat, flung it on the bureau with the porcupine quills
on the under side, and stripping down the dimity
spread, precipitated herself into the middle of the
bed and pulled the counterpane over her head.
In a moment the door opened quietly. Knocking
was a refinement quite unknown in Riverboro, and
if it had been heard of would never have been
wasted on a child.
Miss Miranda entered, and as her eye wandered
about the vacant room, it fell upon a white and
tempestuous ocean of counterpane, an ocean breaking
into strange movements of wave and crest and billow.
"REBECCA!"
The tone in which the word was voiced gave it all
the effect of having been shouted from the housetops
A dark ruffled head and two frightened eyes
appeared above the dimity spread.
"What are you layin' on your good bed in the
daytime for, messin' up the feathers, and dirtyin'
the pillers with your dusty boots?"
Rebecca rose guiltily. There seemed no excuse
to make. Her offense was beyond explanation or
apology.
"I'm sorry, aunt Mirandy--something came
over me; I don't know what."
"Well, if it comes over you very soon again we'll
have to find out what 't is. Spread your bed up
smooth this minute, for 'Bijah Flagg 's bringin' your
trunk upstairs, and I wouldn't let him see such a
cluttered-up room for anything; he'd tell it all over
town."
When Mr. Cobb had put up his horses that night
he carried a kitchen chair to the side of his wife,
who was sitting on the back porch.
"I brought a little Randall girl down on the
stage from Maplewood to-day, mother. She's kin to
the Sawyer girls an' is goin' to live with 'em," he
said, as he sat down and began to whittle. "She's
that Aurelia's child, the one that ran away with
Susan Randall's son just before we come here to
live."
"How old a child?"
"'Bout ten, or somewhere along there, an' small
for her age; but land! she might be a hundred to
hear her talk! She kep' me jumpin' tryin' to an-
swer her! Of all the queer children I ever come
across she's the queerest. She ain't no beauty--
her face is all eyes; but if she ever grows up to
them eyes an' fills out a little she'll make folks
stare. Land, mother! I wish 't you could 'a' heard
her talk."
"I don't see what she had to talk about, a child
like that, to a stranger," replied Mrs. Cobb.
"Stranger or no stranger, 't wouldn't make no
difference to her. She'd talk to a pump or a grind-
stun; she'd talk to herself ruther 'n keep still."
"What did she talk about?"
"Blamed if I can repeat any of it. She kep' me
so surprised I didn't have my wits about me. She
had a little pink sunshade--it kind o' looked like a
doll's amberill, 'n' she clung to it like a burr to a
woolen stockin'. I advised her to open it up--the
sun was so hot; but she said no, 't would fade, an'
she tucked it under her dress. `It's the dearest
thing in life to me,' says she, `but it's a dreadful
care.' Them 's the very words, an' it's all the words
I remember. `It's the dearest thing in life to me, but
it's an awful care!' "--here Mr. Cobb laughed aloud
as he tipped his chair back against the side of the
house. "There was another thing, but I can't get
it right exactly. She was talkin' 'bout the circus
parade an' the snake charmer in a gold chariot, an'
says she, `She was so beautiful beyond compare,
Mr. Cobb, that it made you have lumps in your
throat to look at her.' She'll be comin' over to
see you, mother, an' you can size her up for
yourself. I don' know how she'll git on with Mirandy
Sawyer--poor little soul!"
This doubt was more or less openly expressed in
Riverboro, which, however, had two opinions on the
subject; one that it was a most generous thing in
the Sawyer girls to take one of Aurelia's children
to educate, the other that the education would be
bought at a price wholly out of proportion to its
intrinsic value.
Rebecca's first letters to her mother would seem
to indicate that she cordially coincided with the
latter view of the situation.
IV
REBECCA'S POINT OF VIEW
Dear Mother,--I am safely here. My
dress was not much tumbled and Aunt
Jane helped me press it out. I like Mr.
Cobb very much. He chews but throws
newspapers straight up to the doors. I rode outside a
little while, but got inside before I got to Aunt
Miranda's house. I did not want to, but thought
you would like it better. Miranda is such a long
word that I think I will say Aunt M. and Aunt J. in
my Sunday letters. Aunt J. has given me a
dictionary to look up all the hard words in. It takes
a good deal of time and I am glad people can talk
without stoping to spell. It is much eesier to talk
than write and much more fun. The brick house
looks just the same as you have told us. The parler
is splendid and gives you creeps and chills when you
look in the door. The furnature is ellergant too, and
all the rooms but there are no good sitting-down
places exsept in the kitchen. The same cat is here
but they do not save kittens when she has them,
and the cat is too old to play with. Hannah told
me once you ran away with father and I can see it
would be nice. If Aunt M. would run away I think
I should like to live with Aunt J. She does not hate
me as bad as Aunt M. does. Tell Mark he can have
my paint box, but I should like him to keep the red
cake in case I come home again. I hope Hannah
and John do not get tired doing my chores.
Your afectionate friend
Rebecca.
P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because
he likes my poetry even when it is not very good.
This piece is not very good but it is true but I hope
you won't mind what is in it as you ran away.
This house is dark and dull and dreer
No light doth shine from far or near
Its like the tomb.
And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as serrafim
Though not as good.
My gardian angel is asleep
At leest he doth no vigil keep
Ah I woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm
Dear home of youth!
P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a
book but could not get it right at first. You see
"tomb" and "good" do not sound well together but
I wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully and as serrafim
are always "good" I couldn't take that out. I
have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts
as well but think it is more right. Give the best one
to John as he keeps them in a box with his birds'
eggs. This is the best one.
SUNDAY THOUGHTS
BY
REBECCA ROWENA RANDALL
This house is dark and dull and drear
No light doth shine from far or near
"It's my best hat," said Rebecca
"Take it upstairs then and put it in the clothes-
press; but I shouldn't 'a' thought you'd 'a' worn
your best hat on the stage."
"It's my only hat," explained Rebecca. "My
everyday hat wasn't good enough to bring. Fanny's
going to finish it."
"Lay your parasol in the entry closet."
"Do you mind if I keep it in my room, please?
It always seems safer."
"There ain't any thieves hereabouts, and if there
was, I guess they wouldn't make for your sunshade,
but come along. Remember to always go up the
back way; we don't use the front stairs on account
o' the carpet; take care o' the turn and don't ketch
your foot; look to your right and go in. When
you've washed your face and hands and brushed
your hair you can come down, and by and by
we'll unpack your trunk and get you settled before
supper. Ain't you got your dress on hind sid' foremost?"
Rebecca drew her chin down and looked at the
row of smoked pearl buttons running up and down
the middle of her flat little chest.
"Hind side foremost? Oh, I see! No, that's all
right. If you have seven children you can't keep
buttonin' and unbuttonin' 'em all the time--they
have to do themselves. We're always buttoned up
in front at our house. Mira's only three, but she's
buttoned up in front, too."
Miranda said nothing as she closed the door, but
her looks were at once equivalent to and more
eloquent than words.
Rebecca stood perfectly still in the centre of the
floor and looked about her. There was a square of
oilcloth in front of each article of furniture and a
drawn-in rug beside the single four poster, which
was covered with a fringed white dimity counterpane.
Everything was as neat as wax, but the ceilings
were much higher than Rebecca was accustomed to.
It was a north room, and the window, which was
long and narrow, looked out on the back buildings
and the barn.
It was not the room, which was far more comfortable
than Rebecca's own at the farm, nor the lack
of view, nor yet the long journey, for she was not
conscious of weariness; it was not the fear of a
strange place, for she loved new places and courted
new sensations; it was because of some curious
blending of uncomprehended emotions that Rebecca
stood her sunshade in the corner, tore off her best
hat, flung it on the bureau with the porcupine quills
on the under side, and stripping down the dimity
spread, precipitated herself into the middle of the
bed and pulled the counterpane over her head.
In a moment the door opened quietly. Knocking
was a refinement quite unknown in Riverboro, and
if it had been heard of would never have been
wasted on a child.
Miss Miranda entered, and as her eye wandered
about the vacant room, it fell upon a white and
tempestuous ocean of counterpane, an ocean breaking
into strange movements of wave and crest and billow.
"REBECCA!"
The tone in which the word was voiced gave it all
the effect of having been shouted from the housetops
A dark ruffled head and two frightened eyes
appeared above the dimity spread.
"What are you layin' on your good bed in the
daytime for, messin' up the feathers, and dirtyin'
the pillers with your dusty boots?"
Rebecca rose guiltily. There seemed no excuse
to make. Her offense was beyond explanation or
apology.
"I'm sorry, aunt Mirandy--something came
over me; I don't know what."
"Well, if it comes over you very soon again we'll
have to find out what 't is. Spread your bed up
smooth this minute, for 'Bijah Flagg 's bringin' your
trunk upstairs, and I wouldn't let him see such a
cluttered-up room for anything; he'd tell it all over
town."
When Mr. Cobb had put up his horses that night
he carried a kitchen chair to the side of his wife,
who was sitting on the back porch.
"I brought a little Randall girl down on the
stage from Maplewood to-day, mother. She's kin to
the Sawyer girls an' is goin' to live with 'em," he
said, as he sat down and began to whittle. "She's
that Aurelia's child, the one that ran away with
Susan Randall's son just before we come here to
live."
"How old a child?"
"'Bout ten, or somewhere along there, an' small
for her age; but land! she might be a hundred to
hear her talk! She kep' me jumpin' tryin' to an-
swer her! Of all the queer children I ever come
across she's the queerest. She ain't no beauty--
her face is all eyes; but if she ever grows up to
them eyes an' fills out a little she'll make folks
stare. Land, mother! I wish 't you could 'a' heard
her talk."
"I don't see what she had to talk about, a child
like that, to a stranger," replied Mrs. Cobb.
"Stranger or no stranger, 't wouldn't make no
difference to her. She'd talk to a pump or a grind-
stun; she'd talk to herself ruther 'n keep still."
"What did she talk about?"
"Blamed if I can repeat any of it. She kep' me
so surprised I didn't have my wits about me. She
had a little pink sunshade--it kind o' looked like a
doll's amberill, 'n' she clung to it like a burr to a
woolen stockin'. I advised her to open it up--the
sun was so hot; but she said no, 't would fade, an'
she tucked it under her dress. `It's the dearest
thing in life to me,' says she, `but it's a dreadful
care.' Them 's the very words, an' it's all the words
I remember. `It's the dearest thing in life to me, but
it's an awful care!' "--here Mr. Cobb laughed aloud
as he tipped his chair back against the side of the
house. "There was another thing, but I can't get
it right exactly. She was talkin' 'bout the circus
parade an' the snake charmer in a gold chariot, an'
says she, `She was so beautiful beyond compare,
Mr. Cobb, that it made you have lumps in your
throat to look at her.' She'll be comin' over to
see you, mother, an' you can size her up for
yourself. I don' know how she'll git on with Mirandy
Sawyer--poor little soul!"
This doubt was more or less openly expressed in
Riverboro, which, however, had two opinions on the
subject; one that it was a most generous thing in
the Sawyer girls to take one of Aurelia's children
to educate, the other that the education would be
bought at a price wholly out of proportion to its
intrinsic value.
Rebecca's first letters to her mother would seem
to indicate that she cordially coincided with the
latter view of the situation.
IV
REBECCA'S POINT OF VIEW
Dear Mother,--I am safely here. My
dress was not much tumbled and Aunt
Jane helped me press it out. I like Mr.
Cobb very much. He chews but throws
newspapers straight up to the doors. I rode outside a
little while, but got inside before I got to Aunt
Miranda's house. I did not want to, but thought
you would like it better. Miranda is such a long
word that I think I will say Aunt M. and Aunt J. in
my Sunday letters. Aunt J. has given me a
dictionary to look up all the hard words in. It takes
a good deal of time and I am glad people can talk
without stoping to spell. It is much eesier to talk
than write and much more fun. The brick house
looks just the same as you have told us. The parler
is splendid and gives you creeps and chills when you
look in the door. The furnature is ellergant too, and
all the rooms but there are no good sitting-down
places exsept in the kitchen. The same cat is here
but they do not save kittens when she has them,
and the cat is too old to play with. Hannah told
me once you ran away with father and I can see it
would be nice. If Aunt M. would run away I think
I should like to live with Aunt J. She does not hate
me as bad as Aunt M. does. Tell Mark he can have
my paint box, but I should like him to keep the red
cake in case I come home again. I hope Hannah
and John do not get tired doing my chores.
Your afectionate friend
Rebecca.
P. S. Please give the piece of poetry to John because
he likes my poetry even when it is not very good.
This piece is not very good but it is true but I hope
you won't mind what is in it as you ran away.
This house is dark and dull and dreer
No light doth shine from far or near
Its like the tomb.
And those of us who live herein
Are most as dead as serrafim
Though not as good.
My gardian angel is asleep
At leest he doth no vigil keep
Ah I woe is me!
Then give me back my lonely farm
Where none alive did wish me harm
Dear home of youth!
P. S. again. I made the poetry like a piece in a
book but could not get it right at first. You see
"tomb" and "good" do not sound well together but
I wanted to say "tomb" dreadfully and as serrafim
are always "good" I couldn't take that out. I
have made it over now. It does not say my thoughts
as well but think it is more right. Give the best one
to John as he keeps them in a box with his birds'
eggs. This is the best one.
SUNDAY THOUGHTS
BY
REBECCA ROWENA RANDALL
This house is dark and dull and drear
No light doth shine from far or near
- carpet [´kɑ:pit]
n.地毯 vt.铺地毯 (初中英语单词) - running [´rʌniŋ] a.奔跑的；流动的 (初中英语单词)
- bureau [´bjuərəu] n.局；编辑部；事务所 (初中英语单词)
- vacant [´veikənt] a.空虚的，无表情的 (初中英语单词)
- offense [ə´fens] n.冒犯；触怒；犯法 (初中英语单词)
- explanation [,eksplə´neiʃən] n.解释；说明；辩解 (初中英语单词)
- generous [´dʒenərəs] a.慷慨的；丰盛的 (初中英语单词)
- educate [´edjukeit] vt.教育；培养；训练 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- proportion [prə´pɔ:ʃən] n.比率 vt.使成比例 (初中英语单词)
- safely [´seifli] ad.安全地；平安地 (初中英语单词)
- poetry [´pəuitri] n.诗；诗意 (初中英语单词)
- lonely [´ləunli] a.孤独的；无人烟的 (初中英语单词)
- dreadfully [dredfuli] ad.可怕地；糟透地 (初中英语单词)
- foremost [´fɔ:məust] a.最重要的；最先的 (高中英语单词)
- equivalent [i´kwivələnt] a.相等的 n.同等物 (高中英语单词)
- perfectly [´pə:fiktli] ad.理想地；完美地 (高中英语单词)
- chariot [´tʃæriət] n.古时双轮战车 (高中英语单词)
- openly [´əupənli] ad.公开地；直率地 (高中英语单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- thieves [θi:vz] thief的复数 (英语四级单词)
- weariness [wiərinis] n.疲倦；厌烦 (英语四级单词)
- porcupine [´pɔ:kjupain] n.豪猪，箭猪 (英语四级单词)
- refinement [ri´fainmənt] n.精炼；精制；文雅 (英语四级单词)
- cordially [´kɔ:djəli] ad.热诚地；亲切地 (英语四级单词)
- poster [´pəustə] n.招贴；贴标语的人 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
