章节正文
"Seventy-five dollars is the price, and it was made
to measure. I paid $10 down, and they're to collect
$1 a week till it's paid for. That'll be about all I
have to say, Mr. Farrington, except that my name is
Mamie Siviter instead of Madame Beaumont, and I
thank you for your attentions. This dollar will pay
the instalment due on the dress to-morrow. I guess
I'll go up to my room now."
Harold Farrington listened to the recital of the
Lotus's loveliest guest with an impassive countenance.
When she had concluded he drew a small book like a
checkbook from his coat pocket. He wrote upon a
blank form in this with a stub of pencil, tore out the
leaf, tossed it over to his companion and took up the
paper dollar.
"I've got to go to work, too, in the morning," he
said, "and I might as well begin now. There's a
receipt for the dollar instalment. I've been a col-
lector for O'Dowd & Levinsky for three years.
Funny, ain't it, that you and me both had the same
idea about spending our vacation? I've always
wanted to put up at a swell hotel, and I saved up out
of my twenty per, and did it. Say, Mame, how about
a trip to Coney Saturday night on the boat
what?"
The face of the pseudo Madame Heloise D'Arcy
Beaumont beamed.
"Oh, you bet I'll go, Mr. Farrington. The store
closes at twelve on Saturdays. I guess Coney'll be
all right even if we did spend a week with the swells."
Below the balcony the sweltering city growled and
buzzed in the July night. Inside the Hotel Lotus
the tempered, cool shadows reigned, and the solicitous
waiter single-footed near the low windows, ready at
a nod to serve Madame and her escort.
At the door of the elevator Farrington took his
leave, and Madame Beaumont made her last ascent.
But before they reached the noiseless cage be said:
"Just forget that 'Harold Farrington,' will you?
McManus is the name -- James McManus. Some
call me Jimmy."
"Good-night, Jimmy," said Madame.
THE RATHSKELLER AND THE ROSE
Miss Posie Carrington had earned her suc-
cess. She began life handicapped by the family name
of "Boggs," in the small town known as Cranberry
Corners. At the age of eighteen she had acquired
the name of "Carrington" and a position in the
chorus of a metropolitanburlesque company.
Thence upward she had ascended by the legitimate and
delectable steps of "broiler," member of the famous
"Dickey-bird" octette, in the successful musical
comedy, "Fudge and Fellows," leader of the potato-
bug dance in "Fol-de-Rol," and at length to the part
of the maid "'Toinette" in "The King's Bath-Robe,"
which captured the critics and gave her her chance.
And when we come to consider Miss Carrington she
is in the heydey of flattery, fame and fizz; and that
astute manager, Herr Timothy Goldstein, has her
signature to iron-clad papers that she will star the
coming season in Dyde Rich's new play, "Paresis by
Gaslight."
Promptly there came to Herr Timothy a capable
twentieth-century young character actor by the name
of Highsmith, who besoughtengagement as "Sol
Haytosser," the comic and chief male character part
in "Paresis by Gaslight."
"My boy," said Goldstein, "take the part if you
can get it. Miss Carrington won't listen to any of
my suggestions. She has turned down half a dozen
of the best imitators of the rural dub in the city.
She declares she won't set a foot on the stage un-
less 'Haytosser' is the best that can be raked up --
She was raised in a village, you know, and when a
Broadway orchid sticks a straw in his hair and tries
to call himself a cloverblossom she's on, all right.
I asked her, in a sarcastic vein, if she thought Den-
man Thompson would make any kind of a show in the
part. 'Oh, no,' says she. 'I don't want him or
John Drew or Jim Corbett or any of these swell
actors that don't know a turnip from a turnstile. I
want the real article.' So, my boy, if you want to
play I 'Sol Haytosser' you will have to convince Miss
Carrington. Luck be with you."
Highsmith took the train the next day for Cran-
berry Corners. He remained in that forsaken and
inanimate village three days. He found the Boggs
family and corkscrewed their history unto the third
and fourth generation. He amassed the facts and the
local color of Cranberry Corners. The village had
not grown as rapidly as had Miss Carrington. The
actor estimated that it had suffered as few actual
changes since the departure of its solitary follower
of Thespis as had a stage upon which "four years
is supposed to have elapsed." He absorbed Cran-
berry Corners and returned to the city of chameleon
changes.
It was in the rathskeller that Highsmith made the
hit of his histrionic career. There is no need to
name the place; there is but one rathskeller where
you could hope to find Miss Posie Carrington after a
performance of "The King's Bath-Robe."
There was a jolly small party at one of the tables
that drew many eyes. Miss Carrington, petite, mar-
vellous, bubbling, electric, fame-drunken, shall be
named first. Herr Goldstein follows, sonorous, curly-
haired, heavy, a trifleanxious, as some bear that had
caught, somehow, a butterfly in his claws. Next,
a man condemned to a newspaper, sad, courted,
armed, analyzing for press agent's dross every sen-
tence that was poured over him, eating his a la New-
burg in the silence of greatness. To conclude, a
youth with parted hair, a name that is ochre to red
journals and gold on the back of a supper check.
These sat at a table while the musicians played, while
waiters moved in the mazy performance of their duties
with their backs toward all who desired their service,
and all was bizarre and merry because it was nine feet
below the level of the sidewalk.
At 11.45 a being entered the rathskeller. The
first violin perceptibly flatted a C that should have
been natural; the clarionet blew a bubble instead of a
grace note; Miss Carrington giggled and the youth
with parted hair swallowed an olive seed.
Exquisitely and irreproachably rural was the new
entry. A lank, disconcerted, hesitating young man
it was, flaxen-haired, gaping of mouth, awkward,
stricken to misery by the lights and company. His
clothing was butternut, with bright blue tie, showing
four inches of bony wrist and white-socked ankle.
He upset a chair, sat in another one, curled a foot
around a table leg and cringed at the approach of
a waiter.
"You may fetch me a glass of lager beer," he said,
in response to the discreet questioning of the
servitor.
The eyes of the rathskeller were upon him. He was
as fresh as a collard and as ingenuous as a hay rake.
He let his eye rove about the place as one who re-
gards, big-eyed, hogs in the potato patch. His gaze
rested at length upon Miss Carrington. He rose and
went to her table with a lateral, shining smile and
a blush of pleased trepidation.
"How're ye, Miss Posie?" he said in accents not
to be doubted. "Don't ye remember me - Bill Sum-
mers - the Summerses that lived back of the black-
smith shop? I reckon I've growed up some since ye
left Cranberry Corners.
"'Liza Perry 'lowed I might see ye in the city
while I was here. You know 'Liza married Benny
Stanfield, and she says --"
"Ah, say! " interrupted Miss Carrington, brightly,
"Lize Perry is never married - what! Oh, the
freckles of her!"
"Married in June," grinned the gossip, "and livin'
in the old Tatum Place. Ham Riley perfessed reli-
gion; old Mrs. Blithers sold her place to Cap'n
Spooner; the youngest Waters girl run away with a
music teacher; the court-house burned up last March;
your uncle Wiley was elected constable; Matilda Hos-
kins died from runnin' a needle in her hand, and Tom
Beedle is courtin' Sallie Lathrop - they say he don't
miss a night but what he's settin' on their porch."
"The wall-eyed thing!" exclaimed Miss Carring-
ton, with asperity. "Why, Tom Beedle once -- say,
you folks, excuse me a while -- this is an old friend
of mine -- Mr. -- what was it? Yes, Mr. Summers
-- Mr. Goldstein, Mr. Ricketts, Mr. -- Oh, what's
yours? 'Johnny''ll do -- come on over here and
tell me some more."
She swept him to an isolated table in a corner.
Herr Goldstein shrugged his fat shoulders and beck-
oned to the waiter. The newspaper man brightened
a little and mentioned absinthe. The youth with
parted hair was plunged into melancholy. The
guests of the rathskeller laughed, clinked glasses and
enjoyed the comedy that Posie Carrington was treat-
ing them to after her regular performance. A few
cynical ones whispered "press agent"' and smiled
wisely.
Posie Carrington laid her dimpled and desirable
chin upon her hands, and forgot her audience -- a
faculty that had won her laurels for her.
"I don't seem to recollect any Bill Summers," she
said, thoughtfully gazing straight into the innocent
blue eyes of the rustic young man. "But I know the
Summerses, all right. I guess there ain't many
changes in the old town. You see any of my folks
lately?"
And then Highsmith played his trump. The part
of "Sol Haytosser" called for pathos as well as
comedy. Miss Carrington should see that he could
do that as well.
"Miss Posie," said "Bill Summers,"" I was up to
your folkeses house jist two or three days ago. No,
there ain't many changes to speak of. The lilac bush
by the kitchen window is over a foot higher, and the
elm in the front yard died and had to be cut down.
And yet it don't seem the same place that it used
to be."
"How's ma?" asked Miss Carrington.
to measure. I paid $10 down, and they're to collect
$1 a week till it's paid for. That'll be about all I
have to say, Mr. Farrington, except that my name is
Mamie Siviter instead of Madame Beaumont, and I
thank you for your attentions. This dollar will pay
the instalment due on the dress to-morrow. I guess
I'll go up to my room now."
Harold Farrington listened to the recital of the
Lotus's loveliest guest with an impassive countenance.
When she had concluded he drew a small book like a
checkbook from his coat pocket. He wrote upon a
blank form in this with a stub of pencil, tore out the
leaf, tossed it over to his companion and took up the
paper dollar.
"I've got to go to work, too, in the morning," he
said, "and I might as well begin now. There's a
receipt for the dollar instalment. I've been a col-
lector for O'Dowd & Levinsky for three years.
Funny, ain't it, that you and me both had the same
idea about spending our vacation? I've always
wanted to put up at a swell hotel, and I saved up out
of my twenty per, and did it. Say, Mame, how about
a trip to Coney Saturday night on the boat
what?"
The face of the pseudo Madame Heloise D'Arcy
Beaumont beamed.
"Oh, you bet I'll go, Mr. Farrington. The store
closes at twelve on Saturdays. I guess Coney'll be
all right even if we did spend a week with the swells."
Below the balcony the sweltering city growled and
buzzed in the July night. Inside the Hotel Lotus
the tempered, cool shadows reigned, and the solicitous
waiter single-footed near the low windows, ready at
a nod to serve Madame and her escort.
At the door of the elevator Farrington took his
leave, and Madame Beaumont made her last ascent.
But before they reached the noiseless cage be said:
"Just forget that 'Harold Farrington,' will you?
McManus is the name -- James McManus. Some
call me Jimmy."
"Good-night, Jimmy," said Madame.
THE RATHSKELLER AND THE ROSE
Miss Posie Carrington had earned her suc-
cess. She began life handicapped by the family name
of "Boggs," in the small town known as Cranberry
Corners. At the age of eighteen she had acquired
the name of "Carrington" and a position in the
chorus of a metropolitanburlesque company.
Thence upward she had ascended by the legitimate and
delectable steps of "broiler," member of the famous
"Dickey-bird" octette, in the successful musical
comedy, "Fudge and Fellows," leader of the potato-
bug dance in "Fol-de-Rol," and at length to the part
of the maid "'Toinette" in "The King's Bath-Robe,"
which captured the critics and gave her her chance.
And when we come to consider Miss Carrington she
is in the heydey of flattery, fame and fizz; and that
astute manager, Herr Timothy Goldstein, has her
signature to iron-clad papers that she will star the
coming season in Dyde Rich's new play, "Paresis by
Gaslight."
Promptly there came to Herr Timothy a capable
twentieth-century young character actor by the name
of Highsmith, who besoughtengagement as "Sol
Haytosser," the comic and chief male character part
in "Paresis by Gaslight."
"My boy," said Goldstein, "take the part if you
can get it. Miss Carrington won't listen to any of
my suggestions. She has turned down half a dozen
of the best imitators of the rural dub in the city.
She declares she won't set a foot on the stage un-
less 'Haytosser' is the best that can be raked up --
She was raised in a village, you know, and when a
Broadway orchid sticks a straw in his hair and tries
to call himself a cloverblossom she's on, all right.
I asked her, in a sarcastic vein, if she thought Den-
man Thompson would make any kind of a show in the
part. 'Oh, no,' says she. 'I don't want him or
John Drew or Jim Corbett or any of these swell
actors that don't know a turnip from a turnstile. I
want the real article.' So, my boy, if you want to
play I 'Sol Haytosser' you will have to convince Miss
Carrington. Luck be with you."
Highsmith took the train the next day for Cran-
berry Corners. He remained in that forsaken and
inanimate village three days. He found the Boggs
family and corkscrewed their history unto the third
and fourth generation. He amassed the facts and the
local color of Cranberry Corners. The village had
not grown as rapidly as had Miss Carrington. The
actor estimated that it had suffered as few actual
changes since the departure of its solitary follower
of Thespis as had a stage upon which "four years
is supposed to have elapsed." He absorbed Cran-
berry Corners and returned to the city of chameleon
changes.
It was in the rathskeller that Highsmith made the
hit of his histrionic career. There is no need to
name the place; there is but one rathskeller where
you could hope to find Miss Posie Carrington after a
performance of "The King's Bath-Robe."
There was a jolly small party at one of the tables
that drew many eyes. Miss Carrington, petite, mar-
vellous, bubbling, electric, fame-drunken, shall be
named first. Herr Goldstein follows, sonorous, curly-
haired, heavy, a trifleanxious, as some bear that had
caught, somehow, a butterfly in his claws. Next,
a man condemned to a newspaper, sad, courted,
armed, analyzing for press agent's dross every sen-
tence that was poured over him, eating his a la New-
burg in the silence of greatness. To conclude, a
youth with parted hair, a name that is ochre to red
journals and gold on the back of a supper check.
These sat at a table while the musicians played, while
waiters moved in the mazy performance of their duties
with their backs toward all who desired their service,
and all was bizarre and merry because it was nine feet
below the level of the sidewalk.
At 11.45 a being entered the rathskeller. The
first violin perceptibly flatted a C that should have
been natural; the clarionet blew a bubble instead of a
grace note; Miss Carrington giggled and the youth
with parted hair swallowed an olive seed.
Exquisitely and irreproachably rural was the new
entry. A lank, disconcerted, hesitating young man
it was, flaxen-haired, gaping of mouth, awkward,
stricken to misery by the lights and company. His
clothing was butternut, with bright blue tie, showing
four inches of bony wrist and white-socked ankle.
He upset a chair, sat in another one, curled a foot
around a table leg and cringed at the approach of
a waiter.
"You may fetch me a glass of lager beer," he said,
in response to the discreet questioning of the
servitor.
The eyes of the rathskeller were upon him. He was
as fresh as a collard and as ingenuous as a hay rake.
He let his eye rove about the place as one who re-
gards, big-eyed, hogs in the potato patch. His gaze
rested at length upon Miss Carrington. He rose and
went to her table with a lateral, shining smile and
a blush of pleased trepidation.
"How're ye, Miss Posie?" he said in accents not
to be doubted. "Don't ye remember me - Bill Sum-
mers - the Summerses that lived back of the black-
smith shop? I reckon I've growed up some since ye
left Cranberry Corners.
"'Liza Perry 'lowed I might see ye in the city
while I was here. You know 'Liza married Benny
Stanfield, and she says --"
"Ah, say! " interrupted Miss Carrington, brightly,
"Lize Perry is never married - what! Oh, the
freckles of her!"
"Married in June," grinned the gossip, "and livin'
in the old Tatum Place. Ham Riley perfessed reli-
gion; old Mrs. Blithers sold her place to Cap'n
Spooner; the youngest Waters girl run away with a
music teacher; the court-house burned up last March;
your uncle Wiley was elected constable; Matilda Hos-
kins died from runnin' a needle in her hand, and Tom
Beedle is courtin' Sallie Lathrop - they say he don't
miss a night but what he's settin' on their porch."
"The wall-eyed thing!" exclaimed Miss Carring-
ton, with asperity. "Why, Tom Beedle once -- say,
you folks, excuse me a while -- this is an old friend
of mine -- Mr. -- what was it? Yes, Mr. Summers
-- Mr. Goldstein, Mr. Ricketts, Mr. -- Oh, what's
yours? 'Johnny''ll do -- come on over here and
tell me some more."
She swept him to an isolated table in a corner.
Herr Goldstein shrugged his fat shoulders and beck-
oned to the waiter. The newspaper man brightened
a little and mentioned absinthe. The youth with
parted hair was plunged into melancholy. The
guests of the rathskeller laughed, clinked glasses and
enjoyed the comedy that Posie Carrington was treat-
ing them to after her regular performance. A few
cynical ones whispered "press agent"' and smiled
wisely.
Posie Carrington laid her dimpled and desirable
chin upon her hands, and forgot her audience -- a
faculty that had won her laurels for her.
"I don't seem to recollect any Bill Summers," she
said, thoughtfully gazing straight into the innocent
blue eyes of the rustic young man. "But I know the
Summerses, all right. I guess there ain't many
changes in the old town. You see any of my folks
lately?"
And then Highsmith played his trump. The part
of "Sol Haytosser" called for pathos as well as
comedy. Miss Carrington should see that he could
do that as well.
"Miss Posie," said "Bill Summers,"" I was up to
your folkeses house jist two or three days ago. No,
there ain't many changes to speak of. The lilac bush
by the kitchen window is over a foot higher, and the
elm in the front yard died and had to be cut down.
And yet it don't seem the same place that it used
to be."
"How's ma?" asked Miss Carrington.
- measure [´meʒə]
n.量度；范围 vt.测量 (初中英语单词) - companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- vacation [və´keiʃən, vei´keiʃən] n.假期；休庭期；腾空 (初中英语单词)
- upward [´ʌpwəd] a.&ad.向上(的)；以上 (初中英语单词)
- manager [´mænidʒə] n.经理；管理人；干事 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- engagement [in´geidʒmənt] n.婚约；雇用；受聘 (初中英语单词)
- blossom [´blɔsəm] n.花；开花期 vi.开花 (初中英语单词)
- convince [kən´vins] vt.使确信；使认识错误 (初中英语单词)
- generation [,dʒenə´reiʃən] n.发生；世代；同龄人 (初中英语单词)
- departure [di´pɑ:tʃə] n.离开，出发 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- career [kə´riə] n.经历；生涯；职业 (初中英语单词)
- trifle [´traifəl] n.琐事，小事；少量 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- butterfly [´bʌtəflai] n.蝴蝶；蝶式 (初中英语单词)
- performance [pə´fɔ:məns] n.履行；行为；工作 (初中英语单词)
- bubble [´bʌbəl] n.水泡 vi.冒泡；沸腾 (初中英语单词)
- misery [´mizəri] n.痛苦；悲惨；穷困 (初中英语单词)
- reckon [´rekən] v.计算；认为；估计 (初中英语单词)
- needle [´ni:dl] n.针；指针 v.用针缝 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- elevator [´eliveitə] n.电梯；升降机 (高中英语单词)
- legitimate [li´dʒitimit] a.合法的 vt.使合法 (高中英语单词)
- clover [´kləuvə] n.三叶草 (高中英语单词)
- turnip [´tə:nip] n.萝卜，芜菁 (高中英语单词)
- solitary [´sɔlitəri] a.独居的；孤独的 (高中英语单词)
- greatness [´greitnis] n.巨大；高尚；卓越 (高中英语单词)
- response [ri´spɔns] n.回答；响应 (高中英语单词)
- gossip [´gɔsip] n.&vi.说闲话；聊天 (高中英语单词)
- constable [´kʌnstəbəl] n.警察；警官 (高中英语单词)
- melancholy [´melənkəli] n.忧郁 a.忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- comedy [´kɔmidi] n.喜剧；喜剧场面 (高中英语单词)
- thoughtfully [´θɔ:tfuli] ad.深思地；体贴地 (高中英语单词)
- rustic [´rʌstik] a.田野的；质朴的 (高中英语单词)
- balcony [´bælkəni] n.阳台；(戏院的)楼厅 (英语四级单词)
- metropolitan [,metrə´pɔlitən] a.大城市的 n.大城市人 (英语四级单词)
- flattery [´flætəri] n.奉承；谄媚的举动 (英语四级单词)
- besought [bi´sɔ:t] beseech过去式(分词) (英语四级单词)
- violin [,vaiə´lin] n.(小)提琴 (英语四级单词)
- waiter [´weitə] n.侍者，服务员 (英语四级单词)
- recollect [rekə´lekt] v.重新集合；恢复 (英语四级单词)
- recital [ri´saitl] n.背诵；叙述；音乐会 (英语六级单词)
- burlesque [bə:´lesk] n.&a.滑稽戏(的) (英语六级单词)
- forsaken [fə´seik] forsake的过去分词 (英语六级单词)
- cranberry [´krænbəri] n.酸果蔓的果实 (英语六级单词)
- discreet [di´skri:t] a.谨慎的，考虑周到的 (英语六级单词)
- lateral [´lætərəl] a.横的，侧面的 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
京公网安备 11011202003401号
