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New Chronicles of Rebecca-Part18_Kate Douglas Wiggin(1856-1923)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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He could see Rebecca stepping down from the platform, while his

own red-headed little girl stood up on her bench, waving her hat



with one hand, her handkerchief with the other, and stamping with

both feet.



Now a man sitting beside the mayor rose from his chair and Abner

heard him call:



"Three cheers for the women who made the flag!"

"HIP, HIP, HURRAH!"



"Three cheers for the State of Maine!"

"HIP, HIP, HURRAH!"



"Three cheers for the girl that saved the flag from the hands of

the enemy!"



"HIP, HIP, HURRAH! HIP, HIP, HURRAH!"

It was the Edgewood minister, whose full, vibrant voice was of



the sort to move a crowd. His words rang out into the clear air

and were carried from lip to lip. Hands clapped, feet stamped,



hats swung, while the loud huzzahs might almost have wakened the

echoes on old Mount Ossipee.



The tall, loose-jointed man sat down in the wagon suddenly and

took up the reins.



"They're gettin' a little mite personal, and I guess it's bout

time for you to be goin', Simpson!"



The tone was jocular, but the red mustaches drooped, and the

half-hearted cut he gave to start the white mare on her homeward



journey showed that he was not in his usual devil-may-care mood.

"Durn his skin!" he burst out in a vindictive undertone, as the



mare swung into her long gait. "It's a lie! I thought twas

somebody's wash! I hain't an enemy!"



While the crowd at the raising dispersed in happy family groups

to their picnics in the woods; while the Goddess of Liberty,



Uncle Sam, Columbia, and the proud States lunched grandly in the

Grange hall with distinguished guests and scarred veterans of two



wars, the lonely man drove, and drove, and drove through silent

woods and dull, sleepy villages, never alighting to replenish his



wardrobe or his stock of swapping material.

At dusk he reached a miserable tumble-down house on the edge of a



pond.

The faithful wife with the sad mouth and the habitual look of



anxiety in her faded eyes came to the door at the sound of wheels

and went doggedly to the horse-shed to help him unharness.



"You didn't expect to see me back tonight, did ye?" he asked

satirically; "leastwise not with this same horse? Well, I'm here!



You needn't be scairt to look under the wagon seat, there hain't

nothin' there, not even my supper, so I hope you're suited for



once! No, I guess I hain't goin' to be an angel right away,

neither. There wa'n't nothin' but flags layin' roun' loose down



Riverboro way, n' whatever they say, I hain't sech a hound as to

steal a flag!"



It was natural that young Riverboro should have red, white, and

blue dreams on the night after the new flag was raised. A



stranger thing, perhaps, is the fact that Abner Simpson should

lie down on his hard bed with the flutter of bunting before his



eyes, and a whirl of unaccustomed words in his mind.

"For it's your star, my star, all our stars together."



"I'm sick of goin' it alone," he thought; "I guess I'll try the

other road for a spell;" and with that he fell asleep.



Seventh Chronicle

THE LITTLE PROPHET



I

"I guess York County will never get red of that Simpson crew!"



exclaimed Miranda Sawyer to Jane. "I thought when the family

moved to Acreville we'd seen the last of em, but we ain't! The



big, cross-eyed, stutterin' boy has got a place at the mills in

Maplewood; that's near enough to come over to Riverboro once in a



while of a Sunday mornin' and set in the meetin' house starin' at

Rebecca same as he used to do, only it's reskier now both of em



are older. Then Mrs. Fogg must go and bring back the biggest girl

to help her take care of her baby,--as if there wa'n't plenty of



help nearer home! Now I hear say that the youngest twin has come

to stop the summer with the Cames up to Edgewood Lower Corner."



"I thought two twins were always the same age," said Rebecca,

reflectively, as she came into the kitchen with the milk pail.



"So they be," snapped Miranda, flushing and correcting herself.

"But that pasty-faced Simpson twin looks younger and is smaller



than the other one. He's meek as Moses and the other one is as




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