章节正文
"Pat is dead," said the Story Girl hopelessly, as we returned one
evening from a bootless quest to Andrew Cowan's where a strange
gray cat had been reported--a cat which turned out to be a
yellowish brown nondescript, with no tail to speak of.
"I'm afraid so," I acknowledged at last.
"If only Peg Bowen had been at home she could have found him for
us," asserted Peter. "Her skull would have told her where he
was."
"I wonder if the wishbone she gave me would have done any good,"
cried Cecily suddenly. "I'd forgotten all about it. Oh, do you
suppose it's too late yet?"
"There's nothing in a wishbone," said Dan impatiently.
"You can't be sure. She TOLD me I'd get the wish I made on it.
I'm going to try whenever I get home."
"It can't do any harm, anyhow," said Peter, "but I'm afraid you've
left it too late. If Pat is dead even a witch's wishbone can't
bring him back to life."
"I'll never forgive myself for not thinking about it before,"
mourned Cecily.
As soon as we got home she flew to the little box upstairs where
she kept her treasures, and brought therefrom the dry and brittle
wishbone.
"Peg told me how it must be done. I'm to hold the wishbone with
both hands, like this, and walk backward, repeating the wish nine
times. And when I've finished the ninth time I'm to turn around
nine times, from right to left, and then the wish will come true
right away."
"Do you expect to see Pat when you finish turning?" said Dan
skeptically.
None of us had any faith in the incantation except Peter, and, by
infection, Cecily. You never could tell what might happen.
Cecily took the wishbone in her trembling little hands and began
her backward pacing, repeating solemnly, "I wish that we may find
Paddy alive, or else his body, so that we can bury him decently."
By the time Cecily had repeated this nine times we were all
slightly infected with the desperate hope that something might
come of it; and when she had made her nine gyrations we looked
eagerly down the sunset lane, half expecting to see our lost pet.
But we saw only the Awkward Man turning in at the gate. This was
almost as surprising as the sight of Pat himself would have been;
but there was no sign of Pat and hope flickered out in every
breast but Peter's.
"You've got to give the spell time to work," he expostulated. "If
Pat was miles away when it was wished it wouldn't be reasonable to
expect to see him right off."
But we of little faith had already lost that little, and it was a
very disconsolate group which the Awkward Man presently joined.
He was smiling--his rare, beautiful smile which only children ever
saw--and he lifted his hat to the girls with no trace of the
shyness and awkwardness for which he was notorious.
"Good evening," he said. "Have you little people lost a cat lately?"
We stared. Peter said "I knew it!" in a triumphant pig's whisper.
The Story Girl started eagerly forward.
"Oh, Mr. Dale, can you tell us anything of Paddy?" she cried.
"A silver gray cat with black points and very fine marking?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Well, doesn't that beat the Dutch!" muttered Dan.
But we were all crowding about the Awkward Man, demanding where
and when he had found Paddy.
"You'd better come over to my place and make sure that it really
is your cat," suggested the Awkward Man, "and I'll tell you all
about finding him on the way. I must warn you that he is pretty
thin--but I think he'll pull through."
We obtained permission to go without much difficulty, although the
spring evening was wearing late, for Aunt Janet said she supposed
none of us would sleep a wink that night if we didn't. A joyful
procession followed the Awkward Man and the Story Girl across the
gray, star-litten meadows to his home and through his pine-guarded
gate.
"You know that old barn of mine back in the woods?" said the
Awkward Man. "I go to it only about once in a blue moon. There
was an old barrel there, upside down, one side resting on a block
of wood. This morning I went to the barn to see about having some
hay hauled home, and I had occasion to move the barrel. I noticed
that it seemed to have been moved slightly since my last visit,
and it was now resting wholly on the floor. I lifted it up--and
there was a cat lying on the floor under it. I had heard you had
lost yours and I took it this was your pet. I was afraid he was
dead at first. He was lying there with his eyes closed; but when
I bent over him he opened them and gave a pitiful little mew; or
rather his mouth made the motion of a mew, for he was too weak to
utter a sound."
"Oh, poor, poor Paddy," said tender-hearted Cecily tearfully.
"He couldn't stand, so I carried him home and gave him just a
little milk. Fortunately he was able to lap it. I gave him a
little more at intervals all day, and when I left he was able to
crawl around. I think he'll be all right, but you'll have to be
careful how you feed him for a few days. Don't let your hearts
run away with your judgment and kill him with kindness."
"Do you suppose any one put him under that barrel?" asked the
Story Girl.
"No. The barn was locked. Nothing but a cat could get in. I
suppose he went under the barrel, perhaps in pursuit of a mouse,
and somehow knocked it off the block and so imprisoned himself."
Paddy was sitting before the fire in the Awkward Man's clean, bare
kitchen. Thin! Why, he was literally skin and bone, and his fur
was dull and lustreless. It almost broke our hearts to see our
beautiful Paddy brought so low.
"Oh, how he must have suffered!" moaned Cecily.
"He'll be as prosperous as ever in a week or two," said the
Awkward Man kindly.
The Story Girl gathered Paddy up in her arms. Most mellifluously
did he purr as we crowded around to stroke him; with friendly joy
he licked our hands with his little red tongue; poor Paddy was a
thankful cat; he was no longer lost, starving, imprisoned,
helpless; he was with his comrades once more and he was going
home--home to his old familiar haunts of orchard and dairy and
granary, to his daily rations of new milk and cream, to the cosy
corner of his own fireside. We trooped home joyfully, the Story
Girl in our midst carrying Paddy hugged against her shoulder.
Never did April stars look down on a happier band of travellers on
the golden road. There was a little gray wind out in the meadows
that night, and it danced along beside us on viewless, fairy feet,
and sang a delicate song of the lovely, waiting years, while the
night laid her beautiful hands of blessing over the world.
"You see what Peg's wishbone did," said Peter triumphantly.
"Now, look here, Peter, don't talk nonsense," expostulated Dan.
"The Awkward Man found Paddy this morning and had started to bring
us word before Cecily ever thought of the wishbone. Do you mean
to say you believe he wouldn't have come walking up our lane just
when he did if she had never thought of it?"
"I mean to say that I wouldn't mind if I had several wishbones of
the same kind," retorted Peter stubbornly.
"Of course I don't think the wishbone had really anything to do
with our getting Paddy back, but I'm glad I tried it, for all
that," remarked Cecily in a tone of satisfaction.
"Well, anyhow, we've got Pat and that's the main thing," said
Felix.
"And I hope it will be a lesson to him to stay home after this,"
commented Felicity.
"They say the barrens are full of mayflowers," said the Story
Girl. "Let us have a mayflower picnic tomorrow to celebrate
Paddy's safe return."
CHAPTER XII
FLOWERS O' MAY
Accordingly we went a-maying, following the lure of dancing winds
to a certain westward sloping hill lying under the spirit-like
blue of spring skies, feathered over with lisping young pines and
firs, which cupped little hollows and corners where the sunshine
got in and never got out again, but stayed there and grew mellow,
coaxing dear things to bloom long before they would dream of
waking up elsewhere.
'Twas there we found our mayflowers, after faithful seeking.
Mayflowers, you must know, never flaunt themselves; they must be
sought as becomes them, and then they will yield up their
treasures to the seeker--clusters of star-white and dawn-pink that
have in them the very soul of all the springs that ever were, re-
incarnated in something it seems gross to call perfume, so
exquisite and spiritual is it.
We wandered gaily over the hill, calling to each other with
laughter and jest, getting parted and delightfully lost in that
little pathless wilderness, and finding each other unexpectedly in
nooks and dips and sunny silences, where the wind purred and
gentled and went softly. When the sun began to hang low, sending
great fan-like streamers of radiance up to the zenith, we
foregathered in a tiny, sequestered valley, full of young green
fern, lying in the shadow of a wooded hill. In it was a shallow
pool--a glimmering green sheet of water on whose banks nymphs
might dance as blithely as ever they did on Argive hill or in
Cretan dale. There we sat and stripped the faded leaves and stems
from our spoil, making up the blossoms into bouquets to fill our
baskets with sweetness. The Story Girl twisted a spray of
divinest pink in her brown curls, and told us an old legend of a
beautiful Indian maiden who died of a broken heart when the first
snows of winter were falling, because she believed her long-absent
lover was false. But he came back in the spring time from his
long captivity; and when he heard that she was dead he sought her
grave to mourn her, and lo, under the dead leaves of the old year
he found sweet sprays of a blossom never seen before, and knew
that it was a message of love and remembrance from his dark-eyed
sweet-heart.
"Except in stories Indian girls are called squaws," remarked
practical Dan, tying his mayflowers together in one huge, solid,
cabbage-like bunch. Not for Dan the bother of filling his basket
with the loose sprays, mingled with feathery elephant's-ears and
trails of creeping spruce, as the rest of us, following the Story
Girl's example, did. Nor would he admit that ours looked any
better than his.
"I like things of one kind together. I don't like them mixed," he
said.
"You have no taste," said Felicity.
"Except in my mouth, best beloved," responded Dan.
"You do think you are so smart," retorted Felicity, flushing with
anger.
"Don't quarrel this lovely day," implored Cecily.
"Nobody's quarrelling, Sis. I ain't a bit mad. It's Felicity.
What on earth is that at the bottom of your basket, Cecily?"
"It's a History of the Reformation in France," confessed poor
Cecily, "by a man named D-a-u-b-i-g-n-y. I can't pronounce it. I
heard Mr. Marwood saying it was a book everyone ought to read, so
I began it last Sunday. I brought it along today to read when I
got tired picking flowers. I'd ever so much rather have brought
Ester Reid. There's so much in the history I can't understand,
and it is so dreadful to read of people being burned to death.
But I felt I OUGHT to read it."
"Do you really think your mind has improved any?" asked Sara Ray
seriously, wreathing the handle of her basket with creeping
spruce.
"No, I'm afraid it hasn't one bit," answered Cecily sadly. "I
evening from a bootless quest to Andrew Cowan's where a strange
gray cat had been reported--a cat which turned out to be a
yellowish brown nondescript, with no tail to speak of.
"I'm afraid so," I acknowledged at last.
"If only Peg Bowen had been at home she could have found him for
us," asserted Peter. "Her skull would have told her where he
was."
"I wonder if the wishbone she gave me would have done any good,"
cried Cecily suddenly. "I'd forgotten all about it. Oh, do you
suppose it's too late yet?"
"There's nothing in a wishbone," said Dan impatiently.
"You can't be sure. She TOLD me I'd get the wish I made on it.
I'm going to try whenever I get home."
"It can't do any harm, anyhow," said Peter, "but I'm afraid you've
left it too late. If Pat is dead even a witch's wishbone can't
bring him back to life."
"I'll never forgive myself for not thinking about it before,"
mourned Cecily.
As soon as we got home she flew to the little box upstairs where
she kept her treasures, and brought therefrom the dry and brittle
wishbone.
"Peg told me how it must be done. I'm to hold the wishbone with
both hands, like this, and walk backward, repeating the wish nine
times. And when I've finished the ninth time I'm to turn around
nine times, from right to left, and then the wish will come true
right away."
"Do you expect to see Pat when you finish turning?" said Dan
skeptically.
None of us had any faith in the incantation except Peter, and, by
infection, Cecily. You never could tell what might happen.
Cecily took the wishbone in her trembling little hands and began
her backward pacing, repeating solemnly, "I wish that we may find
Paddy alive, or else his body, so that we can bury him decently."
By the time Cecily had repeated this nine times we were all
slightly infected with the desperate hope that something might
come of it; and when she had made her nine gyrations we looked
eagerly down the sunset lane, half expecting to see our lost pet.
But we saw only the Awkward Man turning in at the gate. This was
almost as surprising as the sight of Pat himself would have been;
but there was no sign of Pat and hope flickered out in every
breast but Peter's.
"You've got to give the spell time to work," he expostulated. "If
Pat was miles away when it was wished it wouldn't be reasonable to
expect to see him right off."
But we of little faith had already lost that little, and it was a
very disconsolate group which the Awkward Man presently joined.
He was smiling--his rare, beautiful smile which only children ever
saw--and he lifted his hat to the girls with no trace of the
shyness and awkwardness for which he was notorious.
"Good evening," he said. "Have you little people lost a cat lately?"
We stared. Peter said "I knew it!" in a triumphant pig's whisper.
The Story Girl started eagerly forward.
"Oh, Mr. Dale, can you tell us anything of Paddy?" she cried.
"A silver gray cat with black points and very fine marking?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Alive?"
"Yes."
"Well, doesn't that beat the Dutch!" muttered Dan.
But we were all crowding about the Awkward Man, demanding where
and when he had found Paddy.
"You'd better come over to my place and make sure that it really
is your cat," suggested the Awkward Man, "and I'll tell you all
about finding him on the way. I must warn you that he is pretty
thin--but I think he'll pull through."
We obtained permission to go without much difficulty, although the
spring evening was wearing late, for Aunt Janet said she supposed
none of us would sleep a wink that night if we didn't. A joyful
procession followed the Awkward Man and the Story Girl across the
gray, star-litten meadows to his home and through his pine-guarded
gate.
"You know that old barn of mine back in the woods?" said the
Awkward Man. "I go to it only about once in a blue moon. There
was an old barrel there, upside down, one side resting on a block
of wood. This morning I went to the barn to see about having some
hay hauled home, and I had occasion to move the barrel. I noticed
that it seemed to have been moved slightly since my last visit,
and it was now resting wholly on the floor. I lifted it up--and
there was a cat lying on the floor under it. I had heard you had
lost yours and I took it this was your pet. I was afraid he was
dead at first. He was lying there with his eyes closed; but when
I bent over him he opened them and gave a pitiful little mew; or
rather his mouth made the motion of a mew, for he was too weak to
utter a sound."
"Oh, poor, poor Paddy," said tender-hearted Cecily tearfully.
"He couldn't stand, so I carried him home and gave him just a
little milk. Fortunately he was able to lap it. I gave him a
little more at intervals all day, and when I left he was able to
crawl around. I think he'll be all right, but you'll have to be
careful how you feed him for a few days. Don't let your hearts
run away with your judgment and kill him with kindness."
"Do you suppose any one put him under that barrel?" asked the
Story Girl.
"No. The barn was locked. Nothing but a cat could get in. I
suppose he went under the barrel, perhaps in pursuit of a mouse,
and somehow knocked it off the block and so imprisoned himself."
Paddy was sitting before the fire in the Awkward Man's clean, bare
kitchen. Thin! Why, he was literally skin and bone, and his fur
was dull and lustreless. It almost broke our hearts to see our
beautiful Paddy brought so low.
"Oh, how he must have suffered!" moaned Cecily.
"He'll be as prosperous as ever in a week or two," said the
Awkward Man kindly.
The Story Girl gathered Paddy up in her arms. Most mellifluously
did he purr as we crowded around to stroke him; with friendly joy
he licked our hands with his little red tongue; poor Paddy was a
thankful cat; he was no longer lost, starving, imprisoned,
helpless; he was with his comrades once more and he was going
home--home to his old familiar haunts of orchard and dairy and
granary, to his daily rations of new milk and cream, to the cosy
corner of his own fireside. We trooped home joyfully, the Story
Girl in our midst carrying Paddy hugged against her shoulder.
Never did April stars look down on a happier band of travellers on
the golden road. There was a little gray wind out in the meadows
that night, and it danced along beside us on viewless, fairy feet,
and sang a delicate song of the lovely, waiting years, while the
night laid her beautiful hands of blessing over the world.
"You see what Peg's wishbone did," said Peter triumphantly.
"Now, look here, Peter, don't talk nonsense," expostulated Dan.
"The Awkward Man found Paddy this morning and had started to bring
us word before Cecily ever thought of the wishbone. Do you mean
to say you believe he wouldn't have come walking up our lane just
when he did if she had never thought of it?"
"I mean to say that I wouldn't mind if I had several wishbones of
the same kind," retorted Peter stubbornly.
"Of course I don't think the wishbone had really anything to do
with our getting Paddy back, but I'm glad I tried it, for all
that," remarked Cecily in a tone of satisfaction.
"Well, anyhow, we've got Pat and that's the main thing," said
Felix.
"And I hope it will be a lesson to him to stay home after this,"
commented Felicity.
"They say the barrens are full of mayflowers," said the Story
Girl. "Let us have a mayflower picnic tomorrow to celebrate
Paddy's safe return."
CHAPTER XII
FLOWERS O' MAY
Accordingly we went a-maying, following the lure of dancing winds
to a certain westward sloping hill lying under the spirit-like
blue of spring skies, feathered over with lisping young pines and
firs, which cupped little hollows and corners where the sunshine
got in and never got out again, but stayed there and grew mellow,
coaxing dear things to bloom long before they would dream of
waking up elsewhere.
'Twas there we found our mayflowers, after faithful seeking.
Mayflowers, you must know, never flaunt themselves; they must be
sought as becomes them, and then they will yield up their
treasures to the seeker--clusters of star-white and dawn-pink that
have in them the very soul of all the springs that ever were, re-
incarnated in something it seems gross to call perfume, so
exquisite and spiritual is it.
We wandered gaily over the hill, calling to each other with
laughter and jest, getting parted and delightfully lost in that
little pathless wilderness, and finding each other unexpectedly in
nooks and dips and sunny silences, where the wind purred and
gentled and went softly. When the sun began to hang low, sending
great fan-like streamers of radiance up to the zenith, we
foregathered in a tiny, sequestered valley, full of young green
fern, lying in the shadow of a wooded hill. In it was a shallow
pool--a glimmering green sheet of water on whose banks nymphs
might dance as blithely as ever they did on Argive hill or in
Cretan dale. There we sat and stripped the faded leaves and stems
from our spoil, making up the blossoms into bouquets to fill our
baskets with sweetness. The Story Girl twisted a spray of
divinest pink in her brown curls, and told us an old legend of a
beautiful Indian maiden who died of a broken heart when the first
snows of winter were falling, because she believed her long-absent
lover was false. But he came back in the spring time from his
long captivity; and when he heard that she was dead he sought her
grave to mourn her, and lo, under the dead leaves of the old year
he found sweet sprays of a blossom never seen before, and knew
that it was a message of love and remembrance from his dark-eyed
sweet-heart.
"Except in stories Indian girls are called squaws," remarked
practical Dan, tying his mayflowers together in one huge, solid,
cabbage-like bunch. Not for Dan the bother of filling his basket
with the loose sprays, mingled with feathery elephant's-ears and
trails of creeping spruce, as the rest of us, following the Story
Girl's example, did. Nor would he admit that ours looked any
better than his.
"I like things of one kind together. I don't like them mixed," he
said.
"You have no taste," said Felicity.
"Except in my mouth, best beloved," responded Dan.
"You do think you are so smart," retorted Felicity, flushing with
anger.
"Don't quarrel this lovely day," implored Cecily.
"Nobody's quarrelling, Sis. I ain't a bit mad. It's Felicity.
What on earth is that at the bottom of your basket, Cecily?"
"It's a History of the Reformation in France," confessed poor
Cecily, "by a man named D-a-u-b-i-g-n-y. I can't pronounce it. I
heard Mr. Marwood saying it was a book everyone ought to read, so
I began it last Sunday. I brought it along today to read when I
got tired picking flowers. I'd ever so much rather have brought
Ester Reid. There's so much in the history I can't understand,
and it is so dreadful to read of people being burned to death.
But I felt I OUGHT to read it."
"Do you really think your mind has improved any?" asked Sara Ray
seriously, wreathing the handle of her basket with creeping
spruce.
"No, I'm afraid it hasn't one bit," answered Cecily sadly. "I
- whenever [wen´evə]
conj.&ad.无论何时 (初中英语单词) - forgive [fə´giv] vt.原谅，谅解，宽恕 (初中英语单词)
- backward [´bækwəd] ad.向后 a.向后的 (初中英语单词)
- desperate [´despərit] a.拼死的；绝望的 (初中英语单词)
- sunset [´sʌnset] n.日落；晚霞 (初中英语单词)
- surprising [sə´praiziŋ] a.惊人的；意外的 (初中英语单词)
- reasonable [´rizənəbəl] a.合理的；有理智的 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- permission [pə´miʃən] n.允许；同意；许可 (初中英语单词)
- barrel [´bærəl] n.(琵琶)桶；圆筒 (初中英语单词)
- slightly [´slaitli] ad.轻微地；细长的 (初中英语单词)
- wholly [´həul-li] ad.完全，十足；统统 (初中英语单词)
- pursuit [pə´sju:t] n.追踪；追击；事务 (初中英语单词)
- prosperous [´prɔspərəs] a.繁荣的；顺利的 (初中英语单词)
- orchard [´ɔ:tʃəd] n.果园 (初中英语单词)
- delicate [´delikət] a.精美的；微妙的 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- blessing [´blesiŋ] n.祝福 (初中英语单词)
- feathered [´feðəd] a.有羽毛的；羽状的 (初中英语单词)
- faithful [´feiθfəl] a.忠实的；可靠的 (初中英语单词)
- perfume [´pə:fju:m, pə´fju:m] n.香味 vt.使发香 (初中英语单词)
- spiritual [´spiritʃuəl] a.精神(上)的；神圣的 (初中英语单词)
- wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- valley [´væli] n.谷；河谷；流域 (初中英语单词)
- indian [´indiən] a.印度的 n.印度人 (初中英语单词)
- maiden [´meidn] n.少女 a.未婚的 (初中英语单词)
- blossom [´blɔsəm] n.花；开花期 vi.开花 (初中英语单词)
- bother [´bɔðə] v.打扰 n.麻烦(事) (初中英语单词)
- everyone [´evriwʌn] pron.=everybody 每人 (初中英语单词)
- dreadful [´dredful] a.可怕的；讨厌的 (初中英语单词)
- solemnly [´sɔləmli] ad.严肃地，庄严地 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- awkward [´ɔ:kwəd] a.笨拙的；为难的 (高中英语单词)
- finding [´faindiŋ] n.发现物；判断；结果 (高中英语单词)
- pitiful [´pitifəl] a.可怜的；慈悲的 (高中英语单词)
- motion [´məuʃən] n.手势 vt.打手势 (高中英语单词)
- fortunately [´fɔ:tʃənətli] ad.幸运地 (高中英语单词)
- literally [´litərəli] ad.逐字地；实际上 (高中英语单词)
- crowded [´kraudid] a.充(拥)满了的 (高中英语单词)
- picnic [´piknik] n.郊游 vi.(去)野餐 (高中英语单词)
- westward [´westwəd] a.向西的 n.西方；西部 (高中英语单词)
- sweetness [´swi:tnis] n.甜蜜；芳香；亲切 (高中英语单词)
- captivity [kæp´tiviti] n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 (高中英语单词)
- remembrance [ri´membrəns] n.记忆(力)；回忆 (高中英语单词)
- spruce [spru:s] n.云杉木 a.&v.整洁 (高中英语单词)
- saying [´seiŋ, ´sei-iŋ] n.言语；言论；格言 (高中英语单词)
- hopelessly [´həuplisli] ad.无希望地，绝望地 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- triumphant [trai´ʌmfənt] a.胜利的；洋洋得意的 (英语四级单词)
- upside [´ʌpsaid] n.上边，上段，上部 (英语四级单词)
- joyfully [´dʒɔifuli] ad.高兴地，快乐地 (英语四级单词)
- unexpectedly [´ʌniks´pektidli] ad.意外地；突然地 (英语四级单词)
- radiance [´reidjəns] n.发光；光彩；辐射 (英语四级单词)
- wooded [´wudid] a.多树林的 (英语四级单词)
- fireside [´faiəsaid] n.炉边；家；家庭生活 (英语六级单词)
- calling [´kɔ:liŋ] n.点名；职业；欲望 (英语六级单词)
- delightfully [di´laitfuli] ad.大喜，欣然 (英语六级单词)
- zenith [´ziniθ] n.天顶，顶点；全盛 (英语六级单词)
- felicity [fi´lisiti] n.幸福；(措词)适当 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
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