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Whirligigs-Part29_O.Henry(1862-1910)_English Literature(文学名著)-第2页

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Then a water-hydrant played its part in the cosmogony,



the buggy became matchwood as foreordained, and the

driver rested very quietly where he had been flung on the



asphalt in front of a certain brownstone mansion.

They came out and had him inside very promptly. And



there was one who made herself a pillow for his head,

and cared for no curious eyes, bending over and saying,



"Oh, it was you; it was you all the time, Bobby! Couldn't

you see it? And if you die, why, so must I, and -- "



But in all this wind we must hurry to keep in touch

with our paper.



Policeman O'Brine arrested it as a character dangerous

to traffic. Straightening its dishevelled leaves with his



big, slow fingers, he stood a few feet from the family

entrance of the Shandon Bells Caf? One headline he



spelled out ponderously: "The Papers to the Front in a

Move to Help the Police."



But, whisht! The voice of Danny, the head bartender,

through the crack of the door: "Here's a nip for ye, Mike,



ould man."

Behind the widespread, amicable columns of the press



Policeman O'Brine receives swiftly his nip of the real

stuff. He moves away, stalwart, refreshed, fortified,



to his duties. Might not the editor man view with pride

the early, the spiritual, the literal fruit that had blessed



his labours.

Policeman O'Brine folded the paper and poked it



playfully under the arm of a small boy that was passing.

That boy was named Johnny, and he took the paper



home with him. His sister was named Gladys, and

she had written to the beauty editor of the paper asking



for the practicable touchstone of beauty. That was

weeks ago, and she had ceased to look for an answer.



Gladys was a pale girl, with dull eyes and a discontented

expression. She was dressing to go up to the avenue to



get some braid. Beneath her skirt she pinned two leaves

of the paper Johnny had brought. When she walked the



rustling sound was an exact imitation of the real thing.

On the street she met the Brown girl from the flat



below and stopped to talk. The Brown girl turned green.

Only silk at $5 a yard could make the sound that she



heard when Gladys moved. The Brown girl, consumed

by jealousy, said something spiteful and went her way,



with pinched lips.

Gladys proceeded toward the avenue. Her eyes now



sparkled like jagerfonteins. A rosy bloom visited her

cheeks; a triumphant, subtle, vivifying, smile transfigured



her face. She was beautiful. Could the beauty editor

have seen her then! There was something in her answer



in the paper, I believe, about cultivating kind feelings

toward others in order to make plain features attractive.



The labour leader against whom the paper's solemn

and weighty editorialinjunction was laid was the father



of Gladys and Johnny. He picked up the remains of

the journal from which Gladys had ravished a cosmetic



of silken sounds. The editorial did not come under his

eye, but instead it was greeted by one of those ingenious



and specious puzzle problems that enthrall alike the

simpleton and the sage.



The labour leader tore off half of the page, provided

himself with table, pencil and paper and glued himself



to his puzzle.

Three hours later, after waitingvainly for him at the



appointed place, other more conservative leaders declared

and ruled in favour of arbitration, and the strike with its



attendant dangers was averted. Subsequent editions

of the paper referred, in coloured inks, to the clarion tone



of its successful denunciation of the labour leader's

intended designs.



The remaining leaves of the active journal also went

loyally to the proving of its potency.



When Johnny returned from school he sought a secluded

spot and removed the missingcolumns from the inside of



his clothing, where they had been artfully distributed so as

to successfully defend such areas as are generally attacked






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