章节正文
father."
"The meeting was a small one," began Rebecca
"I gave all your messages, and everybody was
disappointed you couldn't come, for the president
wasn't there, and Mrs. Matthews took the chair, which
was a pity, for the seat wasn't nearly big enough for
her, and she reminded me of a line in a hymn we
sang, `Wide as the heathen nations are,' and she
wore that kind of a beaver garden-hat that always
gets on one side. And Mr. Burch talked beautifully
about the Syrian heathen, and the singing went
real well, and there looked to be about forty cents
in the basket that was passed on our side. And
that wouldn't save even a heathen baby, would it?
Then Mr. Burch said, if any sister would offer
entertainment, they would pass the night, and have
a parlor meeting in Riverboro to-morrow, with Mrs.
Burch in Syrian costume, and lovely foreign things
to show. Then he waited and waited, and nobody
said a word. I was so mortified I didn't know what
to do. And then he repeated what he said, an
explained why he wanted to stay, and you could see
he thought it was his duty. Just then Mrs.
Robinson whispered to me and said the missionaries
always used to go to the brick house when
grandfather was alive, and that he never would let them
sleep anywhere else. I didn't know you had stopped
having them. because no traveling ministers have
been here, except just for a Sunday morning, since
I came to Riverboro. So I thought I ought to
invite them, as you weren't there to do it for yourself,
and you told me to represent the family."
"What did you do--go up and introduce
yourself as folks was goin' out?"
"No; I stood right up in meeting. I had to, for
Mr. Burch's feelings were getting hurt at nobody's
speaking. So I said, `My aunts, Miss Miranda and
Miss Jane Sawyer would be happy to have you
visit at the brick house, just as the missionaries
always did when their father was alive, and they
sent their respects by me.' Then I sat down; and
Mr. Burch prayed for grandfather, and called him a
man of God, and thanked our Heavenly Father that
his spirit was still alive in his descendants (that was
you), and that the good old house where so many
of the brethren had been cheered and helped, and
from which so many had gone out strengthened for
the fight, was still hospitably open for the stranger
and wayfarer."
Sometimes, when the heavenly bodies are in
just the right conjunction, nature seems to be the
most perfect art. The word or the deed coming
straight from the heart, without any thought of
effect, seems inspired.
A certain gateway in Miranda Sawyer's soul had
been closed for years; not all at once had it been
done, but gradually, and without her full knowledge.
If Rebecca had plotted for days, and with the utmost
cunning, she could not have effected an entrance
into that forbidden country, and now, unknown to
both of them, the gate swung on its stiff and rusty
hinges, and the favoring wind of opportunity opened
it wider and wider as time went on. All things had
worked together amazingly for good. The memory
of old days had been evoked, and the daily life
of a pious and venerated father called to mind;
the Sawyer name had been publiclydignified and
praised; Rebecca had comported herself as the
granddaughter of Deacon Israel Sawyer should, and
showed conclusively that she was not "all Randall,"
as had been supposed. Miranda was rather
mollified by and pleased with the turn of events,
although she did not intend to show it, or give anybody
any reason to expect that this expression of
hospitality was to serve for a precedent on any
subsequent occasion.
"Well, I see you did only what you was obliged
to do, Rebecca," she said, "and you worded your
invitation as nice as anybody could have done. I
wish your aunt Jane and me wasn't both so worthless
with these colds; but it only shows the good
of havin' a clean house, with every room in order,
whether open or shut, and enough victuals cooked
so 't you can't be surprised and belittled by
anybody, whatever happens. There was half a dozen
there that might have entertained the Burches as
easy as not, if they hadn't 'a' been too mean
or lazy. Why didn't your missionaries come right
along with you?"
"They had to go to the station for their valise
and their children."
"Are there children?" groaned Miranda.
"Yes, aunt Miranda, all born under Syrian
skies."
"Syrian grandmother!" ejaculated Miranda (and
it was not a fact). "How many?"
"I didn't think to ask; but I will get two rooms
ready, and if there are any over I'll take 'em into
my bed," said Rebecca, secretly hoping that this
would be the case. "Now, as you're both half sick,
couldn't you trust me just once to get ready for the
company? You can come up when I call. Will
you?"
"I believe I will," sighed Miranda reluctantly.
"I'll lay down side o' Jane in our bedroom and see
if I can get strength to cook supper. It's half past
three--don't you let me lay a minute past five. I
kep' a good fire in the kitchen stove. I don't know,
I'm sure, why I should have baked a pot o' beans
in the middle of the week, but they'll come in
handy. Father used to say there was nothing that
went right to the spot with returned missionaries
like pork 'n' beans 'n' brown bread. Fix up the two
south chambers, Rebecca."
Rebecca, given a free hand for the only time in her
life, dashed upstairs like a whirlwind. Every room
in the brick house was as neat as wax, and she had
only to pull up the shades, go over the floors with
a whisk broom, and dust the furniture. The aunts
could hear her scurrying to and fro, beating up
pillows and feather beds, flapping towels, jingling
crockery, singing meanwhile in her clear voice:--
"In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone."
She had grown to be a handy little creature, and
tasks she was capable of doing at all she did like
a flash, so that when she called her aunts at five
o'clock to pass judgment, she had accomplished
wonders. There were fresh towels on bureaus and
washstands, the beds were fair and smooth, the
pitchers were filled, and soap and matches were
laid out; newspaper, kindling, and wood were in the
boxes, and a large stick burned slowly in each air-
tight stove. "I thought I'd better just take the
chill off," she explained, "as they're right from
Syria; and that reminds me, I must look it up in
the geography before they get here."
There was nothing to disapprove, so the two
sisters went downstairs to make some slight changes
in their dress. As they passed the parlor door
Miranda thought she heard a crackle and looked in.
The shades were up, there was a cheerful blaze in
the open stove in the front parlor, and a fire laid
on the hearth in the back room. Rebecca's own
lamp, her second Christmas present from Mr. Aladdin,
stood on a marble-topped table in the corner,
the light that came softly through its rose-colored
shade transforming the stiff and gloomy ugliness of
the room into a place where one could sit and love
one's neighbor.
"For massy's sake, Rebecca," called Miss
Miranda up the stairs, "did you think we'd better
open the parlor?"
Rebecca came out on the landing braiding her
hair.
"We did on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I
thought this was about as great an occasion," she
said. "I moved the wax flowers off the mantelpiece
so they wouldn't melt, and put the shells, the coral,
and the green stuffed bird on top of the what-not,
so the children wouldn't ask to play with them.
Brother Milliken's coming over to see Mr. Burch
about business, and I shouldn't wonder if Brother
and Sister Cobb happened in. Don't go down
cellar, I'll be there in a minute to do the running."
Miranda and Jane exchanged glances.
"Ain't she the beatin'est creetur that ever was
born int' the world!" exclaimed Miranda; "but she
can turn off work when she's got a mind to!"
At quarter past five everything was ready, and
the neighbors, those at least who were within sight
of the brick house (a prominent object in the
landscape when there were no leaves on the trees),
were curious almost to desperation. Shades up in
both parlors! Shades up in the two south bedrooms!
And fires--if human vision was to be relied
on--fires in about every room. If it had not
been for the kind offices of a lady who had been at
the meeting, and who charitably called in at one or
two houses and explained the reason of all this
preparation, there would have been no sleep in many
families.
The missionary party arrived promptly, and there
were but two children, seven or eight having been
left with the brethren in Portland, to diminish
traveling expenses. Jane escorted them all upstairs,
while Miranda watched the cooking of the supper;
but Rebecca promptly took the two little girls away
from their mother, divested them of their wraps,
smoothed their hair, and brought them down to the
kitchen to smell the beans.
There was a bountiful supper, and the presence
of the young people robbed it of all possible stiffness.
Aunt Jane helped clear the table and put
away the food, while Miranda entertained in the
parlor; but Rebecca and the infant Burches washed
the dishes and held high carnival in the kitchen,
doing only trifling damage--breaking a cup and
plate that had been cracked before, emptying a silver
"The meeting was a small one," began Rebecca
"I gave all your messages, and everybody was
disappointed you couldn't come, for the president
wasn't there, and Mrs. Matthews took the chair, which
was a pity, for the seat wasn't nearly big enough for
her, and she reminded me of a line in a hymn we
sang, `Wide as the heathen nations are,' and she
wore that kind of a beaver garden-hat that always
gets on one side. And Mr. Burch talked beautifully
about the Syrian heathen, and the singing went
real well, and there looked to be about forty cents
in the basket that was passed on our side. And
that wouldn't save even a heathen baby, would it?
Then Mr. Burch said, if any sister would offer
entertainment, they would pass the night, and have
a parlor meeting in Riverboro to-morrow, with Mrs.
Burch in Syrian costume, and lovely foreign things
to show. Then he waited and waited, and nobody
said a word. I was so mortified I didn't know what
to do. And then he repeated what he said, an
explained why he wanted to stay, and you could see
he thought it was his duty. Just then Mrs.
Robinson whispered to me and said the missionaries
always used to go to the brick house when
grandfather was alive, and that he never would let them
sleep anywhere else. I didn't know you had stopped
having them. because no traveling ministers have
been here, except just for a Sunday morning, since
I came to Riverboro. So I thought I ought to
invite them, as you weren't there to do it for yourself,
and you told me to represent the family."
"What did you do--go up and introduce
yourself as folks was goin' out?"
"No; I stood right up in meeting. I had to, for
Mr. Burch's feelings were getting hurt at nobody's
speaking. So I said, `My aunts, Miss Miranda and
Miss Jane Sawyer would be happy to have you
visit at the brick house, just as the missionaries
always did when their father was alive, and they
sent their respects by me.' Then I sat down; and
Mr. Burch prayed for grandfather, and called him a
man of God, and thanked our Heavenly Father that
his spirit was still alive in his descendants (that was
you), and that the good old house where so many
of the brethren had been cheered and helped, and
from which so many had gone out strengthened for
the fight, was still hospitably open for the stranger
and wayfarer."
Sometimes, when the heavenly bodies are in
just the right conjunction, nature seems to be the
most perfect art. The word or the deed coming
straight from the heart, without any thought of
effect, seems inspired.
A certain gateway in Miranda Sawyer's soul had
been closed for years; not all at once had it been
done, but gradually, and without her full knowledge.
If Rebecca had plotted for days, and with the utmost
cunning, she could not have effected an entrance
into that forbidden country, and now, unknown to
both of them, the gate swung on its stiff and rusty
hinges, and the favoring wind of opportunity opened
it wider and wider as time went on. All things had
worked together amazingly for good. The memory
of old days had been evoked, and the daily life
of a pious and venerated father called to mind;
the Sawyer name had been publiclydignified and
praised; Rebecca had comported herself as the
granddaughter of Deacon Israel Sawyer should, and
showed conclusively that she was not "all Randall,"
as had been supposed. Miranda was rather
mollified by and pleased with the turn of events,
although she did not intend to show it, or give anybody
any reason to expect that this expression of
hospitality was to serve for a precedent on any
subsequent occasion.
"Well, I see you did only what you was obliged
to do, Rebecca," she said, "and you worded your
invitation as nice as anybody could have done. I
wish your aunt Jane and me wasn't both so worthless
with these colds; but it only shows the good
of havin' a clean house, with every room in order,
whether open or shut, and enough victuals cooked
so 't you can't be surprised and belittled by
anybody, whatever happens. There was half a dozen
there that might have entertained the Burches as
easy as not, if they hadn't 'a' been too mean
or lazy. Why didn't your missionaries come right
along with you?"
"They had to go to the station for their valise
and their children."
"Are there children?" groaned Miranda.
"Yes, aunt Miranda, all born under Syrian
skies."
"Syrian grandmother!" ejaculated Miranda (and
it was not a fact). "How many?"
"I didn't think to ask; but I will get two rooms
ready, and if there are any over I'll take 'em into
my bed," said Rebecca, secretly hoping that this
would be the case. "Now, as you're both half sick,
couldn't you trust me just once to get ready for the
company? You can come up when I call. Will
you?"
"I believe I will," sighed Miranda reluctantly.
"I'll lay down side o' Jane in our bedroom and see
if I can get strength to cook supper. It's half past
three--don't you let me lay a minute past five. I
kep' a good fire in the kitchen stove. I don't know,
I'm sure, why I should have baked a pot o' beans
in the middle of the week, but they'll come in
handy. Father used to say there was nothing that
went right to the spot with returned missionaries
like pork 'n' beans 'n' brown bread. Fix up the two
south chambers, Rebecca."
Rebecca, given a free hand for the only time in her
life, dashed upstairs like a whirlwind. Every room
in the brick house was as neat as wax, and she had
only to pull up the shades, go over the floors with
a whisk broom, and dust the furniture. The aunts
could hear her scurrying to and fro, beating up
pillows and feather beds, flapping towels, jingling
crockery, singing meanwhile in her clear voice:--
"In vain with lavish kindness
The gifts of God are strown;
The heathen in his blindness
Bows down to wood and stone."
She had grown to be a handy little creature, and
tasks she was capable of doing at all she did like
a flash, so that when she called her aunts at five
o'clock to pass judgment, she had accomplished
wonders. There were fresh towels on bureaus and
washstands, the beds were fair and smooth, the
pitchers were filled, and soap and matches were
laid out; newspaper, kindling, and wood were in the
boxes, and a large stick burned slowly in each air-
tight stove. "I thought I'd better just take the
chill off," she explained, "as they're right from
Syria; and that reminds me, I must look it up in
the geography before they get here."
There was nothing to disapprove, so the two
sisters went downstairs to make some slight changes
in their dress. As they passed the parlor door
Miranda thought she heard a crackle and looked in.
The shades were up, there was a cheerful blaze in
the open stove in the front parlor, and a fire laid
on the hearth in the back room. Rebecca's own
lamp, her second Christmas present from Mr. Aladdin,
stood on a marble-topped table in the corner,
the light that came softly through its rose-colored
shade transforming the stiff and gloomy ugliness of
the room into a place where one could sit and love
one's neighbor.
"For massy's sake, Rebecca," called Miss
Miranda up the stairs, "did you think we'd better
open the parlor?"
Rebecca came out on the landing braiding her
hair.
"We did on Thanksgiving and Christmas, and I
thought this was about as great an occasion," she
said. "I moved the wax flowers off the mantelpiece
so they wouldn't melt, and put the shells, the coral,
and the green stuffed bird on top of the what-not,
so the children wouldn't ask to play with them.
Brother Milliken's coming over to see Mr. Burch
about business, and I shouldn't wonder if Brother
and Sister Cobb happened in. Don't go down
cellar, I'll be there in a minute to do the running."
Miranda and Jane exchanged glances.
"Ain't she the beatin'est creetur that ever was
born int' the world!" exclaimed Miranda; "but she
can turn off work when she's got a mind to!"
At quarter past five everything was ready, and
the neighbors, those at least who were within sight
of the brick house (a prominent object in the
landscape when there were no leaves on the trees),
were curious almost to desperation. Shades up in
both parlors! Shades up in the two south bedrooms!
And fires--if human vision was to be relied
on--fires in about every room. If it had not
been for the kind offices of a lady who had been at
the meeting, and who charitably called in at one or
two houses and explained the reason of all this
preparation, there would have been no sleep in many
families.
The missionary party arrived promptly, and there
were but two children, seven or eight having been
left with the brethren in Portland, to diminish
traveling expenses. Jane escorted them all upstairs,
while Miranda watched the cooking of the supper;
but Rebecca promptly took the two little girls away
from their mother, divested them of their wraps,
smoothed their hair, and brought them down to the
kitchen to smell the beans.
There was a bountiful supper, and the presence
of the young people robbed it of all possible stiffness.
Aunt Jane helped clear the table and put
away the food, while Miranda entertained in the
parlor; but Rebecca and the infant Burches washed
the dishes and held high carnival in the kitchen,
doing only trifling damage--breaking a cup and
plate that had been cracked before, emptying a silver
- beaver [´bi:və]
n.海狸；獭皮(帽) (初中英语单词) - parlor [´pɑ:lə] n.客厅；起居室 (初中英语单词)
- costume [´kɔstju:m] n.服装(试样)；女装 (初中英语单词)
- anywhere [´eniweə] ad.无论何处；任何地方 (初中英语单词)
- grandfather [´grænd,fɑ:ðə] n.(外)祖父；祖先 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- whatever [wɔt´evə] pron.&a.无论什么 (初中英语单词)
- feather [´feðə] n.羽毛 (初中英语单词)
- meanwhile [´mi:n´wail] n.&ad.其间；同时 (初中英语单词)
- capable [´keipəbəl] a.有能力；能干的 (初中英语单词)
- downstairs [,daun´steəz] ad.在楼下 a.楼下的 (初中英语单词)
- cheerful [´tʃiəful] a.快乐的；高兴的 (初中英语单词)
- softly [´sɔftli] ad.软化地；柔和地 (初中英语单词)
- prominent [´prɔminənt] a.突起的；凸出的 (初中英语单词)
- vision [´viʒən] n.视觉；想象力；幻影 (初中英语单词)
- promptly [´prɔmptli] ad.敏捷地；即时地 (初中英语单词)
- infant [´infənt] n.&a.婴(幼)儿 (初中英语单词)
- trifling [´traifliŋ] a.微小的；轻浮的 (初中英语单词)
- heathen [´hi:ðən] n.异教徒 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- heavenly [´hevənli] a.天的，天空的 (高中英语单词)
- gateway [´geit-wei] n.入口；通道；途径 (高中英语单词)
- forbidden [fə´bidn] forbid的过去分词 (高中英语单词)
- dignified [´dignifaid] a.尊贵的 (高中英语单词)
- israel [´izreiəl] n.以色列 (高中英语单词)
- secretly [´si:kritli] ad.秘密地；隐蔽地 (高中英语单词)
- geography [dʒi´ɔgrəfi] n.地理(学) (高中英语单词)
- hearth [hɑ:θ] n.炉边；家庭(生活) (高中英语单词)
- gloomy [´glu:mi] a.昏暗的；忧郁的 (高中英语单词)
- thanksgiving [´θæŋks,giviŋ] 感恩节 (高中英语单词)
- missionary [´miʃənəri] a.传教(士)的 n.传教士 (高中英语单词)
- conjunction [kən´dʒʌŋkʃən] n.联合；巧合；接近 (英语四级单词)
- precedent [´presidənt] n.先例 a.在先的 (英语四级单词)
- upstairs [,ʌp´steəz] ad.在楼上 a.楼上的 (英语四级单词)
- whirlwind [´wə:l,wind] n.旋风；猛烈的势力 (英语四级单词)
- lavish [´læviʃ] a.慷慨的；浪费的 (英语四级单词)
- disapprove [,disə´pru:v] v.不赞成；指责 (英语四级单词)
- crackle [´krækəl] v.劈啪地响 n.劈啪声 (英语四级单词)
- desperation [,despə´reiʃən] n.铤而走险，拼命 (英语四级单词)
- syrian [´siriən] a.&n.叙利亚人(的) (英语六级单词)
- amazingly [ə´meiziŋli] ad.惊人地；惊奇地 (英语六级单词)
- publicly [´pʌblikli] ad.公然；公众所有地 (英语六级单词)
- deacon [´di:kən] n.(教会的)执事 (英语六级单词)
- beating [´bi:tiŋ] n.敲；搅打；失败 (英语六级单词)
- landing [´lændiŋ] n.登陆；降落；楼梯平台 (英语六级单词)
- cracked [krækt] a.有裂缝的；碎的；粗哑 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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