章节正文
merry, noisy child, playing about in lanes and hay-lofts
and farmhouse garrets; that had been eighty odd years
ago, and now she was just a frail old body cowering under
the approaching chill of the death that was coming at
last to take her. It was not probable that much could be
done for her, but Emma hastened away to get assistance
and counsel. Her husband, she knew, was down at a tree-
felling some little distance off, but she might find some
other intelligent soul who knew the old woman better than
she did. The farm, she soon found out, had that faculty
common to farmyards of swallowing up and losing its human
population. The poultry followed her in interested
fashion, and swine grunted interrogations at her from
behind the bars of their styes, but barnyard and
rickyard, orchard and stables and dairy, gave no reward
to her search. Then, as she retraced her steps towards
the kitchen, she came suddenly on her cousin, young Mr.
Jim, as every one called him, who divided his time
between amateur horse-dealing, rabbit-shooting, and
flirting with the farm maids.
"I'm afraid old Martha is dying," said Emma. Jim
was not the sort of person to whom one had to break news
gently.
"Nonsense," he said; "Martha means to live to a
hundred. She told me so, and she'll do it."
"She may be actually dying at this moment, or it may
just be the beginning of the break-up," persisted Emma,
with a feeling of contempt for the slowness and dulness
of the young man.
A grin spread over his good-natured features.
"It don't look like it," he said, nodding towards
the yard. Emma turned to catch the meaning of his
remark. Old Martha stood in the middle of a mob of
poultry scattering handfuls of grain around her. The
turkey-cock, with the bronzed sheen of his feathers and
the purple-red of his wattles, the gamecock, with the
glowing metallic lustre of his Eastern plumage, the hens,
with their ochres and buffs and umbers and their scarlet
combs, and the drakes, with their bottle-green heads,
made a medley of rich colour, in the centre of which the
old woman looked like a withered stalk standing amid a
riotous growth of gaily-hued flowers. But she threw the
grain deftly amid the wilderness of beaks, and her
quavering voice carried as far as the two people who were
watching her. She was still harping on the theme of
death coming to the farm.
"I knew 'twere a-coming. There's been signs an'
warnings."
"Who's dead, then, old Mother?" called out the young
man.
"'Tis young Mister Ladbruk," she shrilled back;
"they've just a-carried his body in. Run out of the way
of a tree that was coming down an' ran hisself on to an
iron post. Dead when they picked un up. Aye, I knew
'twere coming."
And she turned to fling a handful of barley at a
belated group of guinea-fowl that came racing toward her.
* * * *
The farm was a family property, and passed to the
rabbit-shooting cousin as the next-of-kin. Emma Ladbruk
drifted out of its history as a bee that had wandered in
at an open window might flit its way out again. On a
cold grey morning she stood waiting, with her boxes
already stowed in the farm cart, till the last of the
market produce should be ready, for the train she was to
catch was of less importance than the chickens and butter
and eggs that were to be offered for sale. From where
she stood she could see an angle of the long latticed
window that was to have been cosy with curtains and gay
with bowls of flowers. Into her mind came the thought
that for months, perhaps for years, long after she had
been utterly forgotten, a white, unheeding face would be
seen peering out through those latticed panes, and a weak
muttering voice would be heard quavering up and down
those flagged passages. She made her way to a narrow
barred casement that opened into the farm larder. Old
Martha was standing at a table trussing a pair of
chickens for the market stall as she had trussed them for
nearly fourscore years.
THE LULL
I'VE asked Latimer Springfield to spend Sunday with
us and stop the night," announced Mrs. Durmot at the
breakfast-table.
"I thought he was in the throes of an election,"
remarked her husband.
"Exactly; the poll is on Wednesday, and the poor man
will have worked himself to a shadow by that time.
Imagine what electioneering must be like in this awful
soaking rain, going along slushy country roads and
speaking to damp audiences in draughty schoolrooms, day
after day for a fortnight. He'll have to put in an
appearance at some place of worship on Sunday morning,
and he can come to us immediately afterwards and have a
thorough respite from everything connected with politics.
I won't let him even think of them. I've had the picture
of Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament taken down
from the staircase, and even the portrait of Lord
Rosebery's 'Ladas' removed from the smoking-room. And
Vera," added Mrs. Durmot, turning to her sixteen-year-old
niece, "be careful what colour ribbon you wear in your
hair; not blue or yellow on any account; those are the
rival party colours, and emerald green or orange would be
almost as bad, with this Home Rule business to the fore."
"On state occasions I always wear a black ribbon in
my hair," said Vera with crushing dignity.
Latimer Springfield was a rather cheerless, oldish
young man, who went into politics somewhat in the spirit
in which other people might go into half-mourning.
Without being an enthusiast, however, he was a fairly
strenuous plodder, and Mrs. Durmot had been reasonably
near the mark in asserting that he was working at high
pressure over this election. The restful lull which his
hostess enforced on him was decidedlywelcome, and yet
the nervousexcitement of the contest had too great a
hold on him to be totally banished.
"I know he's going to sit up half the night working
up points for his final speeches," said Mrs. Durmot
regretfully; "however, we've kept politics at arm's
length all the afternoon and evening. More than that we
cannot do."
"That remains to be seen," said Vera, but she said
it to herself.
Latimer had scarcely shut his bedroom door before he
was immersed in a sheaf of notes and pamphlets, while a
fountain-pen and pocket-book were brought into play for
the due marshalling of useful facts and discreet
fictions. He had been at work for perhaps thirty-five
minutes, and the house was seemingly consecrated to the
healthy slumber of country life, when a stifled squealing
and scuffling in the passage was followed by a loud tap
at his door. Before he had time to answer, a much-
encumbered Vera burst into the room with the question; "I
say, can I leave these here?"
"These" were a small black pig and a lusty specimen
of black-red gamecock.
Latimer was moderately fond of animals, and
particularly interested in small livestock rearing from
the economic point of view; in fact, one of the pamphlets
on which he was at that moment engaged warmly advocated
the further development of the pig and poultry industry
in our rural districts; but he was pardonably unwilling
to share even a commodious bedroom with samples of
henroost and stye products.
"Wouldn't they be happier somewhere outside?" he
asked, tactfully expressing his own preference in the
matter in an apparent solicitude for theirs.
"There is no outside," said Vera impressively,
"nothing but a waste of dark, swirling waters. The
reservoir at Brinkley has burst."
"I didn't know there was a reservoir at Brinkley,"
said Latimer.
"Well, there isn't now, it's jolly well all over the
place, and as we stand particularly low we're the centre
of an inland sea just at present. You see the river has
overflowed its banks as well."
"Good gracious! Have any lives been lost?"
"Heaps, I should say. The second housemaid has
already identified three bodies that have floated past
the billiard-room window as being the young man she's
engaged to. Either she's engaged to a large assortment
of the population round here or else she's very careless
at identification. Of course it may be the same body
coming round again and again in a swirl; I hadn't thought
of that."
"But we ought to go out and do rescue work, oughtn't
we?" said Latimer, with the instinct of a Parliamentary
candidate for getting into the local limelight.
"We can't," said Vera decidedly, "we haven't any
boats and we're cut off by a raging torrent from any
human habitation. My aunt particularly hoped you would
keep to your room and not add to the confusion, but she
thought it would be so kind of you if you would take in
Hartlepool's Wonder, the gamecock, you know, for the
night. You see, there are eight other gamecocks, and
they fight like furies if they get together, so we're
putting one in each bedroom. The fowl-houses are all
flooded out, you know. And then I thought perhaps you
wouldn't mind taking in this wee piggie; he's rather a
little love, but he has a vile temper. He gets that from
his mother - not that I like to say things against her
when she's lying dead and drowned in her stye, poor
thing. What he really wants is a man's firm hand to keep
him in order. I'd try and grapple with him myself, only
I've got my chow in my room, you know, and he goes for
pigs wherever he finds them."
"Couldn't the pig go in the bathroom?" asked Latimer
faintly, wishing that he had taken up as determined a
stand on the subject of bedroom swine as the chow had.
"The bathroom?" Vera laughed shrilly. "It'll be
full of Boy Scouts till morning if the hot water holds
out."
"Boy Scouts?"
"Yes, thirty of them came to rescue us while the
water was only waist-high; then it rose another three
feet or so and we had to rescue them. We're giving them
hot baths in batches and drying their clothes in the hot-
air cupboard, but, of course, drenched clothes don't dry
in a minute, and the corridor and staircase are beginning
to look like a bit of coast scenery by Tuke. Two of the
boys are wearing your Melton overcoat; I hope you don't
mind."
and farmhouse garrets; that had been eighty odd years
ago, and now she was just a frail old body cowering under
the approaching chill of the death that was coming at
last to take her. It was not probable that much could be
done for her, but Emma hastened away to get assistance
and counsel. Her husband, she knew, was down at a tree-
felling some little distance off, but she might find some
other intelligent soul who knew the old woman better than
she did. The farm, she soon found out, had that faculty
common to farmyards of swallowing up and losing its human
population. The poultry followed her in interested
fashion, and swine grunted interrogations at her from
behind the bars of their styes, but barnyard and
rickyard, orchard and stables and dairy, gave no reward
to her search. Then, as she retraced her steps towards
the kitchen, she came suddenly on her cousin, young Mr.
Jim, as every one called him, who divided his time
between amateur horse-dealing, rabbit-shooting, and
flirting with the farm maids.
"I'm afraid old Martha is dying," said Emma. Jim
was not the sort of person to whom one had to break news
gently.
"Nonsense," he said; "Martha means to live to a
hundred. She told me so, and she'll do it."
"She may be actually dying at this moment, or it may
just be the beginning of the break-up," persisted Emma,
with a feeling of contempt for the slowness and dulness
of the young man.
A grin spread over his good-natured features.
"It don't look like it," he said, nodding towards
the yard. Emma turned to catch the meaning of his
remark. Old Martha stood in the middle of a mob of
poultry scattering handfuls of grain around her. The
turkey-cock, with the bronzed sheen of his feathers and
the purple-red of his wattles, the gamecock, with the
glowing metallic lustre of his Eastern plumage, the hens,
with their ochres and buffs and umbers and their scarlet
combs, and the drakes, with their bottle-green heads,
made a medley of rich colour, in the centre of which the
old woman looked like a withered stalk standing amid a
riotous growth of gaily-hued flowers. But she threw the
grain deftly amid the wilderness of beaks, and her
quavering voice carried as far as the two people who were
watching her. She was still harping on the theme of
death coming to the farm.
"I knew 'twere a-coming. There's been signs an'
warnings."
"Who's dead, then, old Mother?" called out the young
man.
"'Tis young Mister Ladbruk," she shrilled back;
"they've just a-carried his body in. Run out of the way
of a tree that was coming down an' ran hisself on to an
iron post. Dead when they picked un up. Aye, I knew
'twere coming."
And she turned to fling a handful of barley at a
belated group of guinea-fowl that came racing toward her.
* * * *
The farm was a family property, and passed to the
rabbit-shooting cousin as the next-of-kin. Emma Ladbruk
drifted out of its history as a bee that had wandered in
at an open window might flit its way out again. On a
cold grey morning she stood waiting, with her boxes
already stowed in the farm cart, till the last of the
market produce should be ready, for the train she was to
catch was of less importance than the chickens and butter
and eggs that were to be offered for sale. From where
she stood she could see an angle of the long latticed
window that was to have been cosy with curtains and gay
with bowls of flowers. Into her mind came the thought
that for months, perhaps for years, long after she had
been utterly forgotten, a white, unheeding face would be
seen peering out through those latticed panes, and a weak
muttering voice would be heard quavering up and down
those flagged passages. She made her way to a narrow
barred casement that opened into the farm larder. Old
Martha was standing at a table trussing a pair of
chickens for the market stall as she had trussed them for
nearly fourscore years.
THE LULL
I'VE asked Latimer Springfield to spend Sunday with
us and stop the night," announced Mrs. Durmot at the
breakfast-table.
"I thought he was in the throes of an election,"
remarked her husband.
"Exactly; the poll is on Wednesday, and the poor man
will have worked himself to a shadow by that time.
Imagine what electioneering must be like in this awful
soaking rain, going along slushy country roads and
speaking to damp audiences in draughty schoolrooms, day
after day for a fortnight. He'll have to put in an
appearance at some place of worship on Sunday morning,
and he can come to us immediately afterwards and have a
thorough respite from everything connected with politics.
I won't let him even think of them. I've had the picture
of Cromwell dissolving the Long Parliament taken down
from the staircase, and even the portrait of Lord
Rosebery's 'Ladas' removed from the smoking-room. And
Vera," added Mrs. Durmot, turning to her sixteen-year-old
niece, "be careful what colour ribbon you wear in your
hair; not blue or yellow on any account; those are the
rival party colours, and emerald green or orange would be
almost as bad, with this Home Rule business to the fore."
"On state occasions I always wear a black ribbon in
my hair," said Vera with crushing dignity.
Latimer Springfield was a rather cheerless, oldish
young man, who went into politics somewhat in the spirit
in which other people might go into half-mourning.
Without being an enthusiast, however, he was a fairly
strenuous plodder, and Mrs. Durmot had been reasonably
near the mark in asserting that he was working at high
pressure over this election. The restful lull which his
hostess enforced on him was decidedlywelcome, and yet
the nervousexcitement of the contest had too great a
hold on him to be totally banished.
"I know he's going to sit up half the night working
up points for his final speeches," said Mrs. Durmot
regretfully; "however, we've kept politics at arm's
length all the afternoon and evening. More than that we
cannot do."
"That remains to be seen," said Vera, but she said
it to herself.
Latimer had scarcely shut his bedroom door before he
was immersed in a sheaf of notes and pamphlets, while a
fountain-pen and pocket-book were brought into play for
the due marshalling of useful facts and discreet
fictions. He had been at work for perhaps thirty-five
minutes, and the house was seemingly consecrated to the
healthy slumber of country life, when a stifled squealing
and scuffling in the passage was followed by a loud tap
at his door. Before he had time to answer, a much-
encumbered Vera burst into the room with the question; "I
say, can I leave these here?"
"These" were a small black pig and a lusty specimen
of black-red gamecock.
Latimer was moderately fond of animals, and
particularly interested in small livestock rearing from
the economic point of view; in fact, one of the pamphlets
on which he was at that moment engaged warmly advocated
the further development of the pig and poultry industry
in our rural districts; but he was pardonably unwilling
to share even a commodious bedroom with samples of
henroost and stye products.
"Wouldn't they be happier somewhere outside?" he
asked, tactfully expressing his own preference in the
matter in an apparent solicitude for theirs.
"There is no outside," said Vera impressively,
"nothing but a waste of dark, swirling waters. The
reservoir at Brinkley has burst."
"I didn't know there was a reservoir at Brinkley,"
said Latimer.
"Well, there isn't now, it's jolly well all over the
place, and as we stand particularly low we're the centre
of an inland sea just at present. You see the river has
overflowed its banks as well."
"Good gracious! Have any lives been lost?"
"Heaps, I should say. The second housemaid has
already identified three bodies that have floated past
the billiard-room window as being the young man she's
engaged to. Either she's engaged to a large assortment
of the population round here or else she's very careless
at identification. Of course it may be the same body
coming round again and again in a swirl; I hadn't thought
of that."
"But we ought to go out and do rescue work, oughtn't
we?" said Latimer, with the instinct of a Parliamentary
candidate for getting into the local limelight.
"We can't," said Vera decidedly, "we haven't any
boats and we're cut off by a raging torrent from any
human habitation. My aunt particularly hoped you would
keep to your room and not add to the confusion, but she
thought it would be so kind of you if you would take in
Hartlepool's Wonder, the gamecock, you know, for the
night. You see, there are eight other gamecocks, and
they fight like furies if they get together, so we're
putting one in each bedroom. The fowl-houses are all
flooded out, you know. And then I thought perhaps you
wouldn't mind taking in this wee piggie; he's rather a
little love, but he has a vile temper. He gets that from
his mother - not that I like to say things against her
when she's lying dead and drowned in her stye, poor
thing. What he really wants is a man's firm hand to keep
him in order. I'd try and grapple with him myself, only
I've got my chow in my room, you know, and he goes for
pigs wherever he finds them."
"Couldn't the pig go in the bathroom?" asked Latimer
faintly, wishing that he had taken up as determined a
stand on the subject of bedroom swine as the chow had.
"The bathroom?" Vera laughed shrilly. "It'll be
full of Boy Scouts till morning if the hot water holds
out."
"Boy Scouts?"
"Yes, thirty of them came to rescue us while the
water was only waist-high; then it rose another three
feet or so and we had to rescue them. We're giving them
hot baths in batches and drying their clothes in the hot-
air cupboard, but, of course, drenched clothes don't dry
in a minute, and the corridor and staircase are beginning
to look like a bit of coast scenery by Tuke. Two of the
boys are wearing your Melton overcoat; I hope you don't
mind."
- probable [´prɔbəbəl]
a.大概的n.很可能的事 (初中英语单词) - counsel [´kaunsəl] n.商议；劝告；律师 (初中英语单词)
- intelligent [in´telidʒənt] a.聪明的；理智的 (初中英语单词)
- orchard [´ɔ:tʃəd] n.果园 (初中英语单词)
- amateur [´æmətə, ,æmə´tə:] n.业余爱好者 (初中英语单词)
- actually [´æktʃuəli] ad.事实上；实际上 (初中英语单词)
- beginning [bi´giniŋ] n.开始，开端；起源 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- wilderness [´wildənis] n.荒地，荒野 (初中英语单词)
- waiting [´weitiŋ] n.等候；伺候 (初中英语单词)
- wednesday [´wenzdi] n.星期三 (初中英语单词)
- worship [´wə:ʃip] n.&v.崇拜；敬仰 (初中英语单词)
- parliament [´pɑ:ləmənt] n.议(国)会 (初中英语单词)
- ribbon [´ribən] n.缎带；带子；色带 (初中英语单词)
- account [ə´kaunt] vi.说明 vt.认为 n.帐目 (初中英语单词)
- politics [´pɔlitiks] n.政治(学)；政治活动 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- election [i´lekʃən] n.选举；选择 (初中英语单词)
- welcome [´welkəm] a.受欢迎的；可喜的 (初中英语单词)
- nervous [´nə:vəs] a.神经的；神经过敏的 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- contest [kən´test, ´kɔntest] v.争辩 n.争夺；竞赛 (初中英语单词)
- slumber [´slʌmbə] v.&n.睡眠；沉睡状态 (初中英语单词)
- apparent [ə´pærənt] a.显然的；表面上的 (初中英语单词)
- rescue [´reskju:] vt.&n.救援；挽救 (初中英语单词)
- instinct [´instiŋkt] n.本能；直觉；天资 (初中英语单词)
- confusion [kən´fju:ʒən] n.混乱(状态)；骚乱 (初中英语单词)
- temper [´tempə] n.韧度 v.锻炼；调和 (初中英语单词)
- wherever [weər´evə] conj.无论在哪里 (初中英语单词)
- farmhouse [´fɑ:mhaus] n.农场住房，农舍 (高中英语单词)
- poultry [´pəultri] n.&v.家禽 (高中英语单词)
- contempt [kən´tempt] n.轻蔑；受辱；不顾 (高中英语单词)
- metallic [mi´tælik] a.金属(性)的 (高中英语单词)
- handful [hændful] n.一把，少数，一小撮 (高中英语单词)
- barley [´bɑ:li] n.大麦 (高中英语单词)
- fortnight [´fɔ:tnait] n.两星期 (高中英语单词)
- portrait [´pɔ:trit] n.肖像；相片；雕像 (高中英语单词)
- decidedly [di´saididli] ad.坚决地，果断地 (高中英语单词)
- preference [´prefərəns] n.优先选择；偏爱(物) (高中英语单词)
- inland [´inlənd, in´lænd] a.&n.内地的 ad.在内地 (高中英语单词)
- torrent [´tɔrənt] n.奔流，激流，洪流；迸发 (高中英语单词)
- cupboard [´kʌbəd] n.碗柜，食橱 (高中英语单词)
- corridor [´kɔridɔ:] n.走廊；指定航路 (高中英语单词)
- scenery [´si:nəri] n.舞台布景 (高中英语单词)
- overcoat [´əuvəkəut] n.大衣 (高中英语单词)
- good-natured [´gud-´neitʃəd] a.脾气好的，温厚的 (英语四级单词)
- mister [´mistə] n.先生 vt.称...先生 (英语四级单词)
- casement [,keismənt] n.窗扉 (英语四级单词)
- staircase [´steəkeis] n.楼梯 =stairway (英语四级单词)
- emerald [´emərəld] n.纯绿宝石；翠绿色 (英语四级单词)
- totally [´təutəli] ad.统统，完全 (英语四级单词)
- seemingly [´si:miŋli] ad.表面上；似乎 (英语四级单词)
- moderately [´mɔdəritli] ad.适度；适中；普通 (英语四级单词)
- reservoir [´rezəvwɑ:] n.水库；蓄水池 (英语四级单词)
- habitation [,hæbi´teiʃən] n.居住；住所 (英语四级单词)
- barnyard [´bɑ:njɑ:d] n.仓前空前 (英语六级单词)
- plumage [´plu:midʒ] n.羽毛；漂亮衣服 (英语六级单词)
- deftly [´deftli] ad.灵巧地，敏捷地 (英语六级单词)
- fourscore [´fɔ:´skɔ:] n.&a.八十 (英语六级单词)
- respite [´respait] n.暂缓 vt.缓期执行 (英语六级单词)
- enthusiast [in´θju:ziæst] n.热衷者，渴慕者 (英语六级单词)
- taking [´teikiŋ] a.迷人的 n.捕获物 (英语六级单词)
- grapple [´græpəl] vt.抓住 (英语六级单词)
- shrilly [´ʃrili] ad.尖声地 (英语六级单词)
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