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Options-Part22_O.Henry(1862-1910)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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"Don't you see," he said, with a sort of desperatecalmness, "that



this girl has got to be sent home to-day--not to-night nor to-morrow,

but to-day? I can't do anything for her. You know, I'm the janitor



and corresponding secretary of the Down-and-Out Club.. I thought you

could make a newspaper story out of it and win out a piece of money on



general results. But, anyhow, don't you see that she's got to get

back home before night?"



And then I began to feel that dull, leaden, soul-depressing sensation

known as the sense of duty. Why should that sense fall upon one as a



weight and a burden? I knew that I was doomed that day to give up the

bulk of my store of hard-wrung coin to the relief of this Ada Lowery.



But I swore to myself that Tripp's whiskey dollar would not be

forthcoming. He might play knight-errant at my expense, but he would



indulge in no wassail afterward, commemorating my weakness and

gullibility. In a kind of chilly anger I put on my coat and hat.



Tripp, submissive, cringing, vainly endeavoring to please, conducted

me via the street-cars to the human pawn-shop of Mother McGinnis. I



paid the fares. It seemed that the collodion-scented Don Quixote and

the smallest minted coin were strangers.



Tripp pulled the bell at the door of the mouldly red-brick boarding-

house. At its faint tinkle he paled, and crouched as a rabbit makes



ready to spring away at the sound of a hunting-dog. I guessed what a

life he had led, terror-haunted by the coming footsteps of landladies.



"Give me one of the dollars--quick!" he said.

The door opened six inches. Mother McGinnis stood there with white



eyes--they were white, I say--and a yellow face, holding together at

her throat with one hand a dingy pink flannel dressing-sack. Tripp



thrust the dollar through the space without a word, and it bought us

entry.



"She's in the parlor," said the McGinnis, turning the back of her sack

upon us.



In the dim parlor a girl sat at the crackedmarble centre-table

weeping comfortably and eating gum-drops. She was a flawless beauty.



Crying had only made her brilliant eyes brighter. When she crunched a

gum-drop you thought only of the poetry of motion and envied the



senseless confection. Eve at the age of five minutes must have been a

ringer for Miss Ada Lowery at nineteen or twenty. I was introduced,



and a gum-drop suffered neglect while she conveyed to me a naive

interest, such as a puppy dog (a prize winner) might bestow upon a



crawling beetle or a frog.

Tripp took his stand by the table, with the fingers of one hand spread



upon it, as an attorney or a master of ceremonies might have stood.

But he looked the master of nothing. His faded coat was buttoned



high, as if it sought to be charitable to deficiencies of tie and

linen.



I thought of a Scotch terrier at the sight of his shifty eyes in the

glade between his tangled hair and beard. For one ignoble moment I



felt ashamed of having been introduced as his friend in the presence

of so much beauty in distress. But evidently Tripp meant to conduct



the ceremonies, whatever they might be. I thought I detected in his

actions and pose an intention of foisting the situation upon me as



material for a newspaper story, in a lingering hope of extracting from

me his whiskey dollar.



"My friend" (I shuddered), "Mr. Chalmers," said Tripp, "will tell

you, Miss Lowery, the same that I did. He's a reporter, and he can



hand out the talk better than I can. That's why I brought him with

me." (0 Tripp, wasn't it the silver-tongued orator you wanted?)



"He's wise to a lot of things, and he'll tell you now what's best to

do."



I stood on one foot, as it were, as I sat in my rickety chair.

"Why--er--Miss Lowery," I began, secretly enraged at Tripp's awkward



opening, "I am at your service, of course, but--er--as I haven't been

apprized of the circumstances of the case, I--er--"



"Oh," said Miss Lowery, beaming for a moment, "it ain't as bad as

that--there ain't any circumstances. It's the first time I've ever



been in New York except once when I was five years old, and I had no

idea it was such a big town. And I met Mr.--Mr. Snip on the street



and asked him about a friend of mine, and he brought me here and asked

me to wait."



"I advise you, Miss Lowery," said Tripp, "to tell Mr. Chalmers all.

He's a friend of mine" (I was getting used to it by this time), "and



he'll give you the right tip."

"Why, certainly," said Miss Ada, chewing a gum-drop toward me. "There



ain't anything to tell except that--well, everything's fixed for me to




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