章节正文
and she had a boy they called Phil. His whole name was Philip."
"That's my name in English."
"Then why don't you call it so, instead of Philip-O? What good
is the O, anyhow? In my country they put the O before the name,
instead of to the tail-end of it. My mother was an O'Connor.
But it's likely ivery country has its own ways."
Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully understand
Mrs. McGuire's philosophical remarks. Otherwise they might have
amused him, as they may possibly amuse my readers.
I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place
between Phil and his hostess. She made numerous inquiries, to
some of which he was able to give satisfactory replies, to others
not. But in half an hour there was an interruption, and a noisy
one. Three stout, freckled-faced children ran in at the back
door, dripping as if they had just emerged from a shower-bath.
Phil moved aside to let them approach the stove.
Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a
part of the wet clothing, and lamenting for the state in which
her sturdy offspring had returned. But presently order was
restored, and the bustle was succeeded by quiet.
"Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest.
Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to
the great delight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire
herself. The result was that when, shortly after, on the storm
subsiding, Phil proposed to go, the children clamored to have him
stay, and he received such a cordialinvitation to stop till the
next morning that he accepted, nothing loath. So till the next
morning our young hero is provided for.
CHAPTER XXIII
A PITCHED BATTLE
Has my youthful reader ever seen a dog slinking home with
downcast look and tall between his legs? It was with very much
the same air that Pietro in the evening entered the presence of
the padrone. He had received a mortifying defeat, and now he had
before him the difficult task of acknowledging it.
"Well, Pietro," said the padrone, harshly, "where is Filippo?"
"He is not with me" answered Pietro, in an embarrassed manner.
"Didn't you see him then?" demanded his uncle, hastily.
For an instant Pietro was inclined to reply in the negative,
knowing that the censure he would incur would be less. But Phil
might yet be taken--he probably would be, sooner or later,
Pietro thought--and then his falsehood would be found out, and he
would in consequence lose the confidence of the padrone. So,
difficult though it was, he thought it politic to tell the truth.
"Si, signore, I saw him," said he.
"Then why didn't you drag him home?" demanded his uncle, with
contracted brow. "Didn't I tell you to bring him home?"
"Si, signore, but I could not."
"Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the padrone, with a
sneer. "Is a boy of twelve more than a match for you, who are
six years older?"
"I could kill him with my little finger," said Pietro, stung by
this taunt, and for the moment he looked as if he would like to
do it.
"Then you didn't want to bring him? Come, you are not too old
for the stick yet."
Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger and shame when
these words were addressed to him. He would not have cared so
much had they been alone, but some of the younger boys were
present, and it shamed him to be threatened in their presence.
"I will tell you how it happened," he said, suppressing his anger
as well as he could, "and you will see that I was not in fault."
"Speak on, then," said his uncle; but his tone was cold and
incredulous.
Pietro told the story, as we know it. It will not be necessary
to repeat it. When he had finished, his uncle said, with a
sneer, "So you were afraid of a woman. I am ashamed of you."
"What could I do?" pleaded Pietro.
"What could you do?" repeated the padrone, furiously; "you could
push her aside, run into the house, and secure the boy. You are
a coward --afraid of a woman!"
"It was her house," said Pietro. "She would call the police."
"So could you. You could say it was your brother you sought.
There was no difficulty. Do you think Filippo is there yet?"
"I do not know."
"To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the padrone. "I see
I cannot trust you alone. You shall show me the house, and I
will take the boy."
Pietro was glad to hear this. It shifted the responsibility from
his shoulders, and he was privately convinced that Mrs. McGuire
would prove a more formidableantagonist than the padrone
imagined. Whichever way it turned out, he would experience a
feeling of satisfaction. If the padrone got worsted, it would
show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed of his defeat. If Mrs.
McGuire had to surrender at discretion, he would rejoice in her
discomfiture. So, in spite of his reprimand, he went to bed with
better spirits than he came home.
The next morning Pietro and the padrone proceeded to Newark, as
proposed. Arrived there, the former led his uncle at once to the
house of the redoubtable Mrs. McGuire. It will be necessary for
us to precede them.
Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for some months past had had
steady work. But, as luck would have it, work ceased for him on
the day in which his wife had proved so powerful a protector to
Phil. When he came home at night he announced this.
"Niver mind, Pat," said Mrs. McGuire, who was sanguine and
hopeful, "we'll live somehow. I've got a bit of money upstairs,
and I'll earn something by washing. We won't starve."
"I'll get work ag'in soon, maybe," said Pat, encouraged.
"Shure you will."
"And if I don't, I'll help you wash," said her husband,
humorously.
"Shure you'd spoil the clothes," said Bridget, laughing.
In the evening Phil played, and they had a merry time. Mr.
McGuire quite forgot that he was out of work, and, seizing his
wife by the waist, danced around the kitchen, to the great
delight of the children.
The next morning Phil thanked Mrs. McGuire for her kindness, and
prepared to go away.
"Why will you go?" asked Bridget, hospitably. "Shure we have
room for you. You can pay us a little for your atin', and sleep
with the childer."
"I should like it," said Phil, "but----"
"But what?"
"Pietro will come for me."
"And if he does, my Pat will kick him out of doors."
Mr. McGuire was six feet in height, and powerfully made. There
was no doubt he could do it if he had the opportunity. But Phil
knew that he must go out into the streets and then Pietro might
waylay him when he had no protector at hand. He explained his
difficulty to Mrs. McGuire, and she proposed that he should
remain close at hand all the forenoon; near enough to fly to the
house as a refuge, if needful. If Pietro did not appear in that
time, he probably would not at all.
Phil agreed to this plan, and accordingly began to play and sing
in the neighborhood, keeping a watchfullookout for the enemy.
His earnings were small, for the neighborhood was poor. Still,
he picked up a few pennies, and his store was increased by a
twenty-five cent gift from a passing gentleman. He had just
commenced a new tune, being at that time ten rods from the house,
when his watchful eyes detected the approach of Pietro, and, more
formidable still, the padrone.
He did not stop to finish his tune, but took to his heels. At
that moment the padrone saw him. With a cry of exultation, he
started in pursuit, and Pietro with him. He thought Phil already
in his grasp.
Phil dashed breathless into the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was
ironing.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"The padrone--Pietro and the padrone!" exclaimed Phil, pale with
affright.
Mrs. McGuire took in the situation at once.
"Run upstairs," she said. "Pat's up there on the bed. He will
see they won't take you."
Phil sprangupstairs two steps at a time, and dashed into the
chamber. Mr. McGuire was lying on the outside of the bed,
peacefully smoking a clay pipe.
"What's the matther?" he asked, repeating his wife's question.
"They have come for me," said Phil.
"Have they?" said Pat. "Then they'll go back, I'm thinkin'.
Where are they?"
But there was no need of a reply, as their voices were already
audible from below, talking with Mrs. McGuire. The distance was
so trifling that they had seen Phil enter the house, and the
padrone, having a contempt for the physical powers of woman,
followed boldly.
They met Mrs. McGuire at the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
"The boy," said the padrone. "I saw him come in here."
"Did ye? Your eyes is sharp thin."
She stood directly in the passage, so that neither could enter
without brushing her aside.
"Send him out," said the padrone.
"Faith, and I won't," said Bridget. "He shall stay here as long
as he likes."
"I will come in and take him," said the padrone, furiously.
"I wouldn't advise ye to thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, coolly.
"Move aside, woman, or I will make you," said the Italian,
angrily.
"I'll stay where I am. Shure, it's my own house, and I have a
right to do it."
"Pietro," said the padrone, with sudden thought, "he may escape
from the front door. Go round and watch it."
By his sign Bridget guessed what he said, though it was spoken in
Italian.
"He won't run away," she said. "I'll tell you where he is, if
you want to know."
"Where?" asked the padrone, eagerly.
"He's upstairs, thin."
The padrone would not be restrained any longer. He made a rush
forward, and, pushing Mrs. McGuire aside, sprang up the stairs.
He would have found greater difficulty in doing this, but
Bridget, knowing her husband was upstairs, made little
resistance, and contented herself, after the padrone had passed,
with intercepting Pietro, and clutching him vigorously by the
hair, to his great discomfort, screaming "Murther!" at the top of
her lungs.
The padrone heard the cry, but in his impetuosity he did not heed
it. He expected to gain an easy victory over Phil, whom he
supposed to be alone in the chamber. He sprang toward him, but
had barely seized him by the arm, when the gigantic form of the
Irishman appeared, and the padrone found himself in his powerful
grasp.
"What business have ye here, you bloody villain?" demanded Pat;
"breakin' into an honest man's house, without lave or license.
I'll teach you manners, you baste!"
"Give me the boy!" gasped the padrone.
"You can't have him, thin!" said Pat "You want to bate him, you
murderin' ould villain!"
"I'll have you arrested," said the padrone, furiously, writhing
vainly to get himself free. He was almost beside himself that
"That's my name in English."
"Then why don't you call it so, instead of Philip-O? What good
is the O, anyhow? In my country they put the O before the name,
instead of to the tail-end of it. My mother was an O'Connor.
But it's likely ivery country has its own ways."
Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully understand
Mrs. McGuire's philosophical remarks. Otherwise they might have
amused him, as they may possibly amuse my readers.
I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place
between Phil and his hostess. She made numerous inquiries, to
some of which he was able to give satisfactory replies, to others
not. But in half an hour there was an interruption, and a noisy
one. Three stout, freckled-faced children ran in at the back
door, dripping as if they had just emerged from a shower-bath.
Phil moved aside to let them approach the stove.
Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a
part of the wet clothing, and lamenting for the state in which
her sturdy offspring had returned. But presently order was
restored, and the bustle was succeeded by quiet.
"Play us a tune," said Pat, the oldest.
Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to
the great delight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire
herself. The result was that when, shortly after, on the storm
subsiding, Phil proposed to go, the children clamored to have him
stay, and he received such a cordialinvitation to stop till the
next morning that he accepted, nothing loath. So till the next
morning our young hero is provided for.
CHAPTER XXIII
A PITCHED BATTLE
Has my youthful reader ever seen a dog slinking home with
downcast look and tall between his legs? It was with very much
the same air that Pietro in the evening entered the presence of
the padrone. He had received a mortifying defeat, and now he had
before him the difficult task of acknowledging it.
"Well, Pietro," said the padrone, harshly, "where is Filippo?"
"He is not with me" answered Pietro, in an embarrassed manner.
"Didn't you see him then?" demanded his uncle, hastily.
For an instant Pietro was inclined to reply in the negative,
knowing that the censure he would incur would be less. But Phil
might yet be taken--he probably would be, sooner or later,
Pietro thought--and then his falsehood would be found out, and he
would in consequence lose the confidence of the padrone. So,
difficult though it was, he thought it politic to tell the truth.
"Si, signore, I saw him," said he.
"Then why didn't you drag him home?" demanded his uncle, with
contracted brow. "Didn't I tell you to bring him home?"
"Si, signore, but I could not."
"Are you not so strong as he, then?" asked the padrone, with a
sneer. "Is a boy of twelve more than a match for you, who are
six years older?"
"I could kill him with my little finger," said Pietro, stung by
this taunt, and for the moment he looked as if he would like to
do it.
"Then you didn't want to bring him? Come, you are not too old
for the stick yet."
Pietro glowed beneath his dark skin with anger and shame when
these words were addressed to him. He would not have cared so
much had they been alone, but some of the younger boys were
present, and it shamed him to be threatened in their presence.
"I will tell you how it happened," he said, suppressing his anger
as well as he could, "and you will see that I was not in fault."
"Speak on, then," said his uncle; but his tone was cold and
incredulous.
Pietro told the story, as we know it. It will not be necessary
to repeat it. When he had finished, his uncle said, with a
sneer, "So you were afraid of a woman. I am ashamed of you."
"What could I do?" pleaded Pietro.
"What could you do?" repeated the padrone, furiously; "you could
push her aside, run into the house, and secure the boy. You are
a coward --afraid of a woman!"
"It was her house," said Pietro. "She would call the police."
"So could you. You could say it was your brother you sought.
There was no difficulty. Do you think Filippo is there yet?"
"I do not know."
"To-morrow I will go with you myself," said the padrone. "I see
I cannot trust you alone. You shall show me the house, and I
will take the boy."
Pietro was glad to hear this. It shifted the responsibility from
his shoulders, and he was privately convinced that Mrs. McGuire
would prove a more formidableantagonist than the padrone
imagined. Whichever way it turned out, he would experience a
feeling of satisfaction. If the padrone got worsted, it would
show that he, Pietro, need not be ashamed of his defeat. If Mrs.
McGuire had to surrender at discretion, he would rejoice in her
discomfiture. So, in spite of his reprimand, he went to bed with
better spirits than he came home.
The next morning Pietro and the padrone proceeded to Newark, as
proposed. Arrived there, the former led his uncle at once to the
house of the redoubtable Mrs. McGuire. It will be necessary for
us to precede them.
Patrick McGuire was a laborer, and for some months past had had
steady work. But, as luck would have it, work ceased for him on
the day in which his wife had proved so powerful a protector to
Phil. When he came home at night he announced this.
"Niver mind, Pat," said Mrs. McGuire, who was sanguine and
hopeful, "we'll live somehow. I've got a bit of money upstairs,
and I'll earn something by washing. We won't starve."
"I'll get work ag'in soon, maybe," said Pat, encouraged.
"Shure you will."
"And if I don't, I'll help you wash," said her husband,
humorously.
"Shure you'd spoil the clothes," said Bridget, laughing.
In the evening Phil played, and they had a merry time. Mr.
McGuire quite forgot that he was out of work, and, seizing his
wife by the waist, danced around the kitchen, to the great
delight of the children.
The next morning Phil thanked Mrs. McGuire for her kindness, and
prepared to go away.
"Why will you go?" asked Bridget, hospitably. "Shure we have
room for you. You can pay us a little for your atin', and sleep
with the childer."
"I should like it," said Phil, "but----"
"But what?"
"Pietro will come for me."
"And if he does, my Pat will kick him out of doors."
Mr. McGuire was six feet in height, and powerfully made. There
was no doubt he could do it if he had the opportunity. But Phil
knew that he must go out into the streets and then Pietro might
waylay him when he had no protector at hand. He explained his
difficulty to Mrs. McGuire, and she proposed that he should
remain close at hand all the forenoon; near enough to fly to the
house as a refuge, if needful. If Pietro did not appear in that
time, he probably would not at all.
Phil agreed to this plan, and accordingly began to play and sing
in the neighborhood, keeping a watchfullookout for the enemy.
His earnings were small, for the neighborhood was poor. Still,
he picked up a few pennies, and his store was increased by a
twenty-five cent gift from a passing gentleman. He had just
commenced a new tune, being at that time ten rods from the house,
when his watchful eyes detected the approach of Pietro, and, more
formidable still, the padrone.
He did not stop to finish his tune, but took to his heels. At
that moment the padrone saw him. With a cry of exultation, he
started in pursuit, and Pietro with him. He thought Phil already
in his grasp.
Phil dashed breathless into the kitchen, where Mrs. McGuire was
ironing.
"What's the matter?" she asked.
"The padrone--Pietro and the padrone!" exclaimed Phil, pale with
affright.
Mrs. McGuire took in the situation at once.
"Run upstairs," she said. "Pat's up there on the bed. He will
see they won't take you."
Phil sprangupstairs two steps at a time, and dashed into the
chamber. Mr. McGuire was lying on the outside of the bed,
peacefully smoking a clay pipe.
"What's the matther?" he asked, repeating his wife's question.
"They have come for me," said Phil.
"Have they?" said Pat. "Then they'll go back, I'm thinkin'.
Where are they?"
But there was no need of a reply, as their voices were already
audible from below, talking with Mrs. McGuire. The distance was
so trifling that they had seen Phil enter the house, and the
padrone, having a contempt for the physical powers of woman,
followed boldly.
They met Mrs. McGuire at the door.
"What do you want?" she demanded.
"The boy," said the padrone. "I saw him come in here."
"Did ye? Your eyes is sharp thin."
She stood directly in the passage, so that neither could enter
without brushing her aside.
"Send him out," said the padrone.
"Faith, and I won't," said Bridget. "He shall stay here as long
as he likes."
"I will come in and take him," said the padrone, furiously.
"I wouldn't advise ye to thry it," said Mrs. McGuire, coolly.
"Move aside, woman, or I will make you," said the Italian,
angrily.
"I'll stay where I am. Shure, it's my own house, and I have a
right to do it."
"Pietro," said the padrone, with sudden thought, "he may escape
from the front door. Go round and watch it."
By his sign Bridget guessed what he said, though it was spoken in
Italian.
"He won't run away," she said. "I'll tell you where he is, if
you want to know."
"Where?" asked the padrone, eagerly.
"He's upstairs, thin."
The padrone would not be restrained any longer. He made a rush
forward, and, pushing Mrs. McGuire aside, sprang up the stairs.
He would have found greater difficulty in doing this, but
Bridget, knowing her husband was upstairs, made little
resistance, and contented herself, after the padrone had passed,
with intercepting Pietro, and clutching him vigorously by the
hair, to his great discomfort, screaming "Murther!" at the top of
her lungs.
The padrone heard the cry, but in his impetuosity he did not heed
it. He expected to gain an easy victory over Phil, whom he
supposed to be alone in the chamber. He sprang toward him, but
had barely seized him by the arm, when the gigantic form of the
Irishman appeared, and the padrone found himself in his powerful
grasp.
"What business have ye here, you bloody villain?" demanded Pat;
"breakin' into an honest man's house, without lave or license.
I'll teach you manners, you baste!"
"Give me the boy!" gasped the padrone.
"You can't have him, thin!" said Pat "You want to bate him, you
murderin' ould villain!"
"I'll have you arrested," said the padrone, furiously, writhing
vainly to get himself free. He was almost beside himself that
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz]
ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词) - undertake [,ʌndə´teik] vt.从事；承担；担保 (初中英语单词)
- satisfactory [,sætis´fæktəri] a.令人满意的 (初中英语单词)
- interruption [intə´rʌpʃ(ə)n] n.停止，中断 (初中英语单词)
- presently [´prezəntli] ad.不久；目前 (初中英语单词)
- shortly [´ʃɔ:tli] ad.立刻，马上；不久 (初中英语单词)
- invitation [,invi´teiʃən] n.邀请；请帖；吸引 (初中英语单词)
- youthful [´ju:θfəl] a.年轻的；青年的 (初中英语单词)
- instant [´instənt] a.立即的 n.紧迫；瞬间 (初中英语单词)
- consequence [´kɔnsikwəns] n.结果；后果；推断 (初中英语单词)
- ashamed [ə´ʃeimd] a.惭愧；不好意思 (初中英语单词)
- coward [´kauəd] n.胆怯者 a.胆小的 (初中英语单词)
- responsibility [ri,spɔnsə´biliti] n.责任(心)；职责；任务 (初中英语单词)
- satisfaction [,sætis´fækʃən] n.满意；满足 (初中英语单词)
- surrender [sə´rendə] vt.&n.交出；引渡；放弃 (初中英语单词)
- rejoice [ri´dʒɔis] v.(使)高兴；欢庆 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- refuge [´refju:dʒ] v.&n.避难(所)；庇护 (初中英语单词)
- accordingly [ə´kɔ:diŋli] ad.因此；从而；依照 (初中英语单词)
- neighborhood [´neibəhud] n.邻居；邻近；附近 (初中英语单词)
- pursuit [pə´sju:t] n.追踪；追击；事务 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- trifling [´traifliŋ] a.微小的；轻浮的 (初中英语单词)
- physical [´fizikəl] a.物质的；有形的 (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- spoken [´spəukən] speak的过去分词 (初中英语单词)
- knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- victory [´viktəri] n.胜利，战胜 (初中英语单词)
- barely [´beəli] ad.公开地；仅仅 (初中英语单词)
- bloody [´blʌdi] a.(流)血的；血腥的 (初中英语单词)
- ireland [´aiələnd] n.爱尔兰 (高中英语单词)
- chronicle [´krɔnikl] n.历史 vt.记述 (高中英语单词)
- hostess [´həustis] n.女主人；旅馆女老板 (高中英语单词)
- sturdy [´stə:di] a.坚强的；坚定的 (高中英语单词)
- bustle [´bʌsəl] v.(使)匆忙 n.匆忙 (高中英语单词)
- cordial [´kɔ:diəl] a.热忱的；亲切的 (高中英语单词)
- falsehood [´fɔ:lshud] n.错误；撒谎 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- furiously [´fjuəriəsli] ad.狂怒地；有力地 (高中英语单词)
- formidable [´fɔ:midəbəl] a.可怕的；艰难的 (高中英语单词)
- precede [pri´si:d] v.领先；先于 (高中英语单词)
- laborer [´leibərə] (=labourer) n.工人 (高中英语单词)
- breathless [´breθlis] a.屏息的 (高中英语单词)
- contempt [kən´tempt] n.轻蔑；受辱；不顾 (高中英语单词)
- contented [kən´tentid] a.满足的；心满意足的 (高中英语单词)
- chamber [´tʃeimbə] n.房间；议院；会议室 (高中英语单词)
- gigantic [dʒai´gæntik] a.巨大的 (高中英语单词)
- censure [´senʃə] vt.&n.责备；非难 (英语四级单词)
- politic [´pɔlitik] a.精明的；有策略的 (英语四级单词)
- antagonist [æn´tægənist] n.敌手，反对者，对手 (英语四级单词)
- discretion [di´skreʃən] n.谨慎；判断(力) (英语四级单词)
- protector [prə´tektə] n.保护者；防御者 (英语四级单词)
- forenoon [´fɔ:nu:n] n.午前，上午 (英语四级单词)
- watchful [´wɔtʃfəl] a.注意的；戒备的 (英语四级单词)
- lookout [´lukaut] n.警戒；景色；前途 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- vigorously [´vigərəsli] ad.精力旺盛地；健壮地 (英语四级单词)
- philosophical [,filə´sɔfikəl] a.哲学(上)的；冷静的 (英语六级单词)
- harshly [´hɑ:ʃli] ad.粗糙地，冷酷地 (英语六级单词)
- privately [´praivitli] ad.秘密，一个人 (英语六级单词)
- whichever [witʃ´evə] a.&pron.无论哪个(些) (英语六级单词)
- sanguine [´sæŋgwin] a.血红的 n.血红色 (英语六级单词)
- earnings [´ə:niŋz] n.收益；报酬；获得 (英语六级单词)
- exultation [egzʌl´teiʃən] n.欢腾，狂欢 (英语六级单词)
- discomfort [dis´kʌmfət] n.不适；不安；困难 (英语六级单词)
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