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Passing of the Third Floor Back-Part3_Jerome K.Jerome(1859-1927)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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one's fellow-boarders; making senseless jokes about one's

fellow-boarders; talking big about oneself, nobody believing one--all



such-like vulgarities. Other boarding-houses might indulge in them:

Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square had its dignity to consider.



The truth is, Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square was coming to a very good

opinion of itself: for the which not Bloomsbury Square so much as the



stranger must be blamed. The stranger had arrived at Forty-eight

Bloomsbury Square with the preconceived idea--where obtained from



Heaven knows--that its seeminglycommonplace, mean-minded,

coarse-fibred occupants were in reality ladies and gentlemen of the



first water; and time and observation had apparently only strengthened

this absurd idea. The natural result was, Forty-eight Bloomsbury



Square was coming round to the stranger's opinion of itself.

Mrs. Pennycherry, the stranger would persist in regarding as a lady



born and bred, compelled by circumstances over which she had no

control to fill an arduous but honorable position of middle-class



society--a sort of foster-mother, to whom were due the thanks and

gratitude of her promiscuous family; and this view of herself Mrs.



Pennycherry now clung to with obstinateconviction. There were

disadvantages attaching, but these Mrs. Pennycherry appeared prepared



to suffer cheerfully. A lady born and bred cannot charge other ladies

and gentlemen for coals and candles they have never burnt; a



foster-mother cannot palm off upon her children New Zealand mutton for

Southdown. A mere lodging-house-keeper can play these tricks, and



pocket the profits. But a lady feels she cannot: Mrs. Pennycherry

felt she no longer could.



To the stranger Miss Kite was a witty and delightful conversationalist

of most attractivepersonality. Miss Kite had one failing: it was



lack of vanity. She was unaware of her own delicate and refined

beauty. If Miss Kite could only see herself with his, the stranger's



eyes, the modesty that rendered her distrustful of her natural charms

would fall from her. The stranger was so sure of it Miss Kite



determined to put it to the test. One evening, an hour before dinner,

there entered the drawing-room, when the stranger only was there and



before the gas was lighted, a pleasant, good-looking lady, somewhat

pale, with neatly-arranged brown hair, who demanded of the stranger if



he knew her. All her body was trembling, and her voice seemed

inclined to run away from her and become a sob. But when the



stranger, looking straight into her eyes, told her that from the

likeness he thought she must be Miss Kite's younger sister, but much



prettier, it became a laugh instead: and that evening the

golden-haired Miss Kite disappeared never to show her high-coloured



face again; and what perhaps, more than all else, might have impressed

some former habitue of Forty-eight Bloomsbury Square with awe, it was



that no one in the house made even a passing inquiryconcerning her.

Sir William's cousin the stranger thought an acquisition to any



boarding-house. A lady of high-class family! There was nothing

outward or visible perhaps to tell you that she was of high-class



family. She herself, naturally, would not mention the fact, yet

somehow you felt it. Unconsciously she set a high-class tone,



diffused an atmosphere of gentle manners. Not that the stranger had

said this in so many words; Sir William's cousin gathered that he



thought it, and felt herself in agreement with him.

For Mr. Longcord and his partner, as representatives of the best type



of business men, the stranger had a great respect. With what

unfortunate results to themselves has been noted. The curious thing



is that the Firm appeared content with the price they had paid for the

stranger's good opinion--had even, it was rumoured, acquired a taste



for honest men's respect--that in the long run was likely to cost them

dear. But we all have our pet extravagance.



The Colonel and Mrs. Devine both suffered a good deal at first from

the necessity imposed upon them of learning, somewhat late in life,



new tricks. In the privacy of their own apartment they condoled with

one another.



"Tomfool nonsense," grumbled the Colonel, "you and I starting billing

and cooing at our age!"



"What I object to," said Mrs. Devine, "is the feeling that somehow I

am being made to do it."



"The idea that a man and his wife cannot have their little joke

together for fear of what some impertinent jackanapes may think of



them! it's damn ridiculous," the Colonel exploded.

"Even when he isn't there," said Mrs. Devine, "I seem to see him



looking at me with those vexing eyes of his. Really the man quite

haunts me."






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