In the evening of the day on which Miss Lydia Orr had visited the old Bolton house in company with Deacon Whittle4, both forums were in full blast. The wagon5-shed behind the Brookville House sheltered an unusual number of “rigs,” whose owners, after partaking of liquid refreshment6 dispensed7 by the oily young man behind the bar, by common consent strolled out to the veranda8 where a row of battered9 wooden armchairs invited to reposeful10 consideration of the surprising events of the past few days.
The central chair supported the large presence of “Judge” Fulsom, who was dispensing11 both information and tobacco juice.
“The practice of the legal profession,” said the Judge, after a brief period devoted12 to the ruminative13 processes, “is full of surprises.”
Having spoken, Judge Fulsom folded his fat hands across the somewhat soiled expanse of his white waistcoat and relapsed into a weighty silence.
“They was sayin' over to the post office this evening that the young woman that cleaned up the church fair has bought the old Bolton place. How about it, Jedge?”
Judge Fulsom grunted16, as he leveled a displeased17 stare upon the speaker, a young farmer with a bibulous18 eye and slight swagger of defiance19. At the proper moment, with the right audience, the Judge was willing to impart information with lavish20 generosity21. But any attempt to force his hand was looked upon as a distinct infringement22 of his privilege.
“You want to keep your face shut, Lute23, till th' Jedge gets ready to talk,” counseled a middle-aged24 man who sat tilted25 back in the next chair. “Set down, son, and cool off.”
“Well, you see I got to hurry along,” objected the young farmer impatiently, “and I wanted to know if there was anything in it. Our folks had money in the old bank, an' we'd give up getting anything more out the smash years ago. But if the Bolton place has actually been sold—”
He finished with a prolonged whistle.
The greatness in the middle chair emitted a grunt15.
“Humph!” he muttered, and again, “Hr-m-m-ph!”
“It would be surprising,” conceded the middle-aged man, “after all these years.”
“Considerable many of th' creditors26 has died since,” piped up a lean youth who was smoking a very large cigar. “I s'pose th' children of all such would come in for their share—eh, Judge?”
Judge Fulsom frowned and pursed his lips thoughtfully.
“The proceedings27 has not yet reached the point you mention, Henry,” he said. “You're going a little too fast.”
Nobody spoke14, but the growing excitement took the form of a shuffling28 of feet. The Judge deliberately29 lighted his pipe, a token of mental relaxation30. Then from out the haze31 of blue smoke, like the voice of an oracle32 from the seclusion33 of a shrine34, issued the familiar recitative tone for which everybody had been waiting.
“Well, boys, I'll tell you how 'twas: Along about ten minutes of twelve I had my hat on my head, and was just drawing on my linen35 duster with the idea of going home to dinner, when I happened to look out of my office window, and there was Deacon Whittle—and the girl, just coming up th' steps. In five minutes more I'd have been gone, most likely for the day.”
“Gosh!” breathed the excitable young farmer.
The middle-aged man sternly motioned him to keep silence.
“I s'pose most of you boys saw her at the fair last night,” proceeded the Judge, ignoring the interruption. “She's a nice appearing young female; but nobody'd think to look at her—”
He paused to ram36 down the tobacco in the glowing bowl of his pipe.
“Well, as I was saying, she'd been over to the Bolton house with the Deacon. Guess we'll have to set the Deacon down for a right smart real-estate boomer. We didn't none of us give him credit for it. He'd got the girl all worked up to th' point of bein' afraid another party'd be right along to buy the place. She wanted an option on it.”
“Shucks!” again interrupted the young farmer disgustedly. “Them options ain't no good. I had one once on five acres of timber, and—”
“Shut up, Lute!” came in low chorus from the spell-bound audience.
“Wanted an option,” repeated Judge Fulsom loudly, “just till I could fix up the paper. ‘And, if you please,’ said she, ‘I'd like t' pay five thousand dollars for the option, then I'd feel more sure.’ And before I had a chance to open my mouth, she whips out a check-book.”
“Gr-reat jumping Judas!” cried the irrepressible Lute, whose other name was Parsons. “Five thousand dollars! Why, the old place ain't worth no five thousand dollars!”
Judge Fulsom removed his pipe from his mouth, knocked out the half-burned tobacco, blew through the stem, then proceeded to fill and light it again. From the resultant haze issued his voice once more, bland37, authoritative38, reminiscent.
“Well, now, son, that depends on how you look at it. Time was when Andrew Bolton wouldn't have parted with the place for three times that amount. It was rated, I remember, at eighteen thousand, including live stock, conveyances39 an' furniture, when it was deeded over to the assignees. We sold out the furniture and stock at auction40 for about half what they were worth. But there weren't any bidders41 worth mentioning for the house and land. So it was held by the assignees—Cephas Dix, Deacon Whittle and myself—for private sale. We could have sold it on easy terms the next year for six thousand; but in process of trying to jack42 up our customer to seven, we lost out on the deal. But now—”
Judge Fulsom arose, brushed the tobacco from his waistcoat front and cleared his throat.
“Guess I'll have to be getting along,” said he; “important papers to look over, and—”
“A female woman, like her, is likely to change her mind before tomorrow morning,” said the middle-aged man dubiously43. “And I heard Mrs. Solomon Black had offered to sell her place to the young woman for twenty-nine hundred—all in good repair and neat as wax. She might take it into her head to buy it.”
“Right in the village, too,” growled44 Lute Parsons. “Say, Jedge, did you give her that option she was looking for? Because if you did she can't get out of it so easy.”
Judge Fulsom twinkled pleasantly over his bulging45 cheeks.
“I sure did accommodate the young lady with the option, as aforesaid,” he vouchsafed46. “And what's more, I telephoned to the Grenoble Bank to see if her check for five thousand dollars was O. K.... Well; so long, boys!”
He stepped ponderously47 down from the piazza48 and turned his broad back on the row of excited faces.
“Hold on, Jedge!” the middle-aged man called after him. “Was her check any good? You didn't tell us!”
The Judge did not reply. He merely waved his hand.
“He's going over to the post office,” surmised50 the lean youth, shifting the stub of his cigar to the corner of his mouth in a knowing manner.
He lowered his heels to the floor with a thud and prepared to follow. Five minutes later the bartender, not hearing the familiar hum of voices from the piazza, thrust his head out of the door.
“Say!” he called out to the hatchet-faced woman who was writing down sundry51 items in a ledger52 at a high desk. “The boys has all cleared out. What's up, I wonder?”
“They'll be back,” said the woman imperturbably53, “an' more with 'em. You want t' git your glasses all washed up, Gus; an' you may as well fetch up another demijohn out the cellar.”
Was it foreknowledge, or merely coincidence which at this same hour led Mrs. Solomon Black, frugally54 inspecting her supplies for tomorrow morning's breakfast, to discover that her baking-powder can was empty?
“I'll have to roll out a few biscuits for their breakfast,” she decided55, “or else I'll run short of bread for dinner.”
Her two boarders, Lydia Orr and the minister, were sitting on the piazza, engaged in what appeared to be a most interesting conversation, when Mrs. Black unlatched the front gate and emerged upon the street, her second-best hat carefully disposed upon her water-waves.
“I won't be gone a minute,” she paused to assure them; “I just got to step down to the grocery.”
A sudden hush56 fell upon a loud and excited conversation when Mrs. Solomon Black, very erect57 as to her spinal58 column and noticeably composed and dignified59 in her manner, entered Henry Daggett's store. She walked straight past the group of men who stood about the door to the counter, where Mr. Daggett was wrapping in brown paper two large dill pickles60 dripping sourness for a small girl with straw-colored pig-tails.
Mr. Daggett beamed cordially upon Mrs. Black, as he dropped two copper61 pennies in his cash-drawer.
“Good evening, ma'am,” said he. “What can I do for you?”
“A ten-cent can of baking-powder, if you please,” replied the lady primly62.
“Must take a lot of victuals64 to feed them two boarders o' yourn,” hazarded Mr. Daggett, still cordially, and with a dash of confidential65 sympathy in his voice.
Mr. Daggett had, by virtue66 of long association with his wife, acquired something of her spontaneous warm-heartedness. He had found it useful in his business.
“Oh, they ain't neither of 'em so hearty,” said Mrs. Black, searching in her pocket-book with the air of one who is in haste.
“We was just speakin' about the young woman that's stopping at your house,” murmured Mr. Daggett. “Let me see; I disremember which kind of bakin'-powder you use, Mis' Black.”
“The Golden Rule brand, if you please, Mr. Daggett.”
“H'm; let me see if I've got one of them Golden Rules left,” mused67 Mr. Daggett.... “I told the boys I guessed she was some relation of th' Grenoble Orrs, an' mebbe—”
“Well; she ain't,” denied Mrs. Black crisply.
“M-m-m?” interrogated68 Mr. Daggett, intent upon a careful search among the various canned products on his shelf. “How'd she happen to come to Brookville?”
Mrs. Black tossed her head.
“Of course it ain't for me to say,” she returned, with a dignity which made her appear taller than she really was. “But folks has heard of the table I set, 'way to Boston.”
“You don't say!” exclaimed Mr. Daggett. “So she come from Boston, did she? I thought she seemed kind of—”
“I don't know as there's any secret about where she come from,” returned Mrs. Black aggressively. “I never s'posed there was. Folks ain't had time to git acquainted with her yit.”
“That's so,” agreed Mr. Daggett, as if the idea was a new and valuable one. “Yes, ma'am; you're right! we ain't none of us had time to git acquainted.”
He beamed cordially upon Mrs. Black over the tops of his spectacles. “Looks like we're going to git a chance to know her,” he went on. “It seems the young woman has made up her mind to settle amongst us. Yes, ma'am; we've been hearing she's on the point of buying property and settling right down here in Brookville.”
An excited buzz of comment in the front of the store broke in upon this confidential conversation. Mrs. Black appeared to become aware for the first time of the score of masculine eyes fixed69 upon her.
“Ain't you got any of the Golden Rule?” she demanded sharply. “That looks like it to me—over in behind them cans of tomatoes. It's got a blue label.”
“Why, yes; here 'tis, sure enough,” admitted Mr. Daggett. “I guess I must be losing my eyesight.... It's going to be quite a chore to fix up the old Bolton house,” he added, as he inserted the blue labeled can of reputation in a red and yellow striped paper bag.
“That ain't decided,” snapped Mrs. Black. “She could do better than to buy that tumble-down old shack70.”
“So she could; so she could,” soothed71 the postmaster. “But it's going to be a good thing for the creditors, if she can swing it. Let me see, you wa'n't a loser in the Bolton Bank; was you, Mis' Black?”
“No; I wa'n't; my late departed husband had too much horse-sense.”
And having thus impugned72 less fortunate persons, Mrs. Solomon Black departed, a little stiffer as to her back-bone than when she entered. She had imparted information; she had also acquired it. When she had returned rather later than usual from selling her strawberries in Grenoble she had hurried her vegetables on to boil and set the table for dinner. She could hear the minister pacing up and down his room in the restless way which Mrs. Black secretly resented, since it would necessitate73 changing the side breadths of matting to the middle of the floor long before this should be done. But of Lydia Orr there was no sign. The minister came promptly74 down stairs at sound of the belated dinner-bell. But to Mrs. Black's voluble explanations for the unwonted hour he returned the briefest of perfunctory replies. He seemed hungry and ate heartily75 of the cold boiled beef and vegetables.
“Did you see anything of her this morning?” asked Mrs. Black pointedly76, as she cut the dried-apple pie. “I can't think what's become of her.”
Wesley Elliot glanced up from an absent-minded contemplation of an egg spot on the tablecloth77.
“If you refer to Miss Orr,” said he, “I did see her—in a carriage with Deacon Whittle.”
He was instantly ashamed of the innocent prevarication78. But he told himself he did not choose to discuss Miss Orr's affairs with Mrs. Black.
Just then Lydia came in, her eyes shining, her cheeks very pink; but like the minister she seemed disposed to silence, and Mrs. Black was forced to restrain her curiosity.
“How'd you make out this morning?” she inquired, as Lydia, having hurried through her dinner, rose to leave the table.
“Very well, thank you, Mrs. Black,” said the girl brightly. Then she went at once to her room and closed the door.
At supper time it was just the same; neither the minister nor the girl who sat opposite him had anything to say. But no sooner had Mrs. Black begun to clear away the dishes than the two withdrew to the vine-shaded porch, as if by common consent.
“She ought to know right off about Fanny Dodge79 and the minister,” Mrs. Black told herself.
She was still revolving80 this in her mind as she walked sedately81 along the street, the red and yellow striped bag clasped tightly in both hands. Of course everybody in the village would suppose she knew all about Lydia Orr. But the fact was she knew very little. The week before, one of her customers in Grenoble, in the course of a business transaction which involved a pair of chickens, a dozen eggs and two boxes of strawberries, had asked, in a casual way, if Mrs. Black knew any one in Brookville who kept boarders.
“The minister of our church boards with me,” she told the Grenoble woman, with pardonable pride. “I don't know of anybody else that takes boarders in Brookville.” She added that she had an extra room.
“Well, one of my boarders—a real nice young lady from Boston—has taken a queer notion to board in Brookville,” said the woman. “She was out autoing82 the other day and went through there. I guess the country 'round Brookville must be real pretty this time of year.”
“Yes; it is, real pretty,” she had told the Grenoble woman.
And this had been the simple prelude84 to Lydia Orr's appearance in Brookville.
Wooded hills did not interest Mrs. Black, nor did the meandering85 of the silver river through its narrow valley. But she took an honest pride in her own freshly painted white house with its vividly86 green blinds, and in her front yard with its prim63 rows of annuals and thrifty87 young dahlias. As for Miss Lydia Orr's girlish rapture88 over the view from her bedroom window, so long as it was productive of honestly earned dollars, Mrs. Black was disposed to view it with indulgence. There was nothing about the girl or her possessions to indicate wealth or social importance, beyond the fact that she arrived in a hired automobile89 from Grenoble instead of riding over in Mrs. Solomon Black's spring wagon. Miss Orr brought with her to Brookville one trunk, the contents of which she had arranged at once in the bureau drawers and wardrobe of Mrs. Black's second-best bedroom. It was evident from a private inspection90 of their contents that Miss Orr was in mourning.
At this point in her meditations91 Mrs. Black became aware of an insistent92 voice hailing her from the other side of the picket93 fence.
It was Mrs. Daggett, her large fair face flushed with the exertion94 of hurrying down the walk leading from Mrs. Whittle's house.
“Some of us ladies has been clearing up after the fair,” she explained, as she joined Mrs. Solomon Black. “It didn't seem no more than right; for even if Ann Whittle doesn't use her parlor95, on account of not having it furnished up, she wants it broom-clean. My! You'd ought to have seen the muss we swept out.”
“I'd have been glad to help,” said Mrs. Black stiffly; “but what with it being my day to go over to Grenoble, and my boarders t' cook for and all—”
“Oh, we didn't expect you,” said Abby Daggett tranquilly96. “There was enough of us to do everything.”
She beamed warmly upon Mrs. Black.
“Us ladies was saying we'd all better give you a rising vote of thanks for bringing that sweet Miss Orr to the fair. Why, 'twas a real success after all; we took in two hundred and forty-seven dollars and twenty-nine cents. Ain't that splendid?”
Mrs. Black nodded. She felt suddenly proud of her share in this success.
“I guess she wouldn't have come to the fair if I hadn't told her about it,” she admitted. “She only come to my house yesterd'y morning.”
“In an auto83?” inquired Abby Daggett eagerly.
“Yes,” nodded Mrs. Black. “I told her I could bring her over in the wagon just as well as not; but she said she had the man all engaged. I told her we was going to have a fair, and she said right off she wanted to come.”
Abby Daggett laid her warm plump hand on Mrs. Black's arm.
“I dunno when I've took such a fancy to anybody at first sight,” she said musingly97. “She's what I call a real sweet girl. I'm just going to love her, I know.”
She gazed beseechingly98 at Mrs. Solomon Black.
“Mebbe you'll think it's just gossipy curiosity; but I would like to know where that girl come from, and who her folks was, and how she happened to come to Brookville. I s'pose you know all about her; don't you?”
Mrs. Solomon Black coughed slightly. She was aware of the distinction she had already acquired in the eyes of Brookville from the mere49 fact of Lydia Orr's presence in her house.
“If I do,” she began cautiously, “I don't know as it's for me to say.”
“Don't fer pity's sake think I'm nosey,” besought99 Abby Daggett almost tearfully. “You know I ain't that kind; but I don't see how folks is going to help being interested in a sweet pretty girl like Miss Orr, and her coming so unexpected. And you know there's them that'll invent things that ain't true, if they don't hear the facts.”
“She's from Boston,” said Mrs. Solomon Black grudgingly100. “You can tell Lois Daggett that much, if she's getting anxious.”
Mrs. Daggett's large face crimsoned101. She was one of those soft, easily hurt persons whose blushes bring tears. She sniffed102 a little and raised her handkerchief to her eyes.
“I was afraid you'd—”
“Well, of course I ain't scared of you, Abby,” relented Mrs. Black. “But I says to myself, ‘I'm goin' to let Lydia Orr stand on her two own feet in this town,’ I says. She can say what she likes about herself, an' there won't be no lies coming home to roost at my house. I guess you'd feel the very same way if you was in my place, Abby.”
Mrs. Daggett glanced with childish admiration103 at the other woman's magenta-tinted face under its jetty water-waves. Even Mrs. Black's everyday hat was handsomer than her own Sunday-best.
“You always was so smart an' sensible, Phoebe,” she said mildly. “I remember 'way back in school, when we was both girls, you always could see through arithmetic problems right off, when I couldn't for the life of me. I guess you're right about letting her speak for herself.”
“Course I am!” agreed Mrs. Black triumphantly104.
She had extricated105 herself from a difficulty with flying colors. She would still preserve her reputation for being a close-mouthed woman who knew a lot more about everything than she chose to tell.
“Anybody can see she's wearing mournin',” she added benevolently106.
“Oh, I thought mebbe she had a black dress on because they're stylish107. She did look awful pretty in it, with her arms and neck showing through. I like black myself; but mourning—that's different. Poor young thing, I wonder who it was. Her father, mebbe, or her mother. You didn't happen to hear her say, did you, Phoebe?”
Mrs. Solomon Black compressed her lips tightly. She paused at her own gate with majestic108 dignity.
“I guess I'll have to hurry right in, Abby,” said she. “I have my bread to set.”
Mrs. Solomon Black had closed her gate behind her, noticing as she did so that Wesley Elliot and Lydia Orr had disappeared from the piazza where she had left them. She glanced at Mrs. Daggett, lingering wistfully before the gate.
“Goodnight, Abby,” said she firmly.
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forums
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| 讨论会； 座谈会； 广播专题讲话节目； 集会的公共场所( forum的名词复数 )； 论坛，讨论会，专题讨论节目； 法庭 | |
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tavern
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| n.小旅馆，客栈；小酒店 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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whittle
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| v.削（木头），削减；n.屠刀 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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dispensed
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| v.分配( dispense的过去式和过去分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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reposeful
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| adj.平稳的，沉着的 | |
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dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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ruminative
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| adj.沉思的，默想的，爱反复思考的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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bibulous
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| adj.高度吸收的，酗酒的 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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lavish
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| adj.无节制的；浪费的；vt.慷慨地给予，挥霍 | |
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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infringement
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| n.违反；侵权 | |
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lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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relaxation
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| n.松弛，放松；休息；消遣；娱乐 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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shrine
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| n.圣地，神龛，庙；v.将...置于神龛内，把...奉为神圣 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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conveyances
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| n.传送( conveyance的名词复数 )；运送；表达；运输工具 | |
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auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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bidders
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| n.出价者，投标人( bidder的名词复数 ) | |
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jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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44
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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45
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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46
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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ponderously
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48
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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49
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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50
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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51
sundry
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| adj.各式各样的，种种的 | |
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52
ledger
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| n.总帐，分类帐；帐簿 | |
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53
imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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54
frugally
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| adv. 节约地, 节省地 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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56
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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57
erect
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| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
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spinal
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| adj.针的，尖刺的，尖刺状突起的；adj.脊骨的，脊髓的 | |
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59
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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60
pickles
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| n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 )；处于困境；遇到麻烦；菜酱 | |
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61
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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62
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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victuals
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| n.食物；食品 | |
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65
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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interrogated
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| v.询问( interrogate的过去式和过去分词 )；审问；（在计算机或其他机器上）查询 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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shack
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| adj.简陋的小屋，窝棚 | |
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71
soothed
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| v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 )；抚慰；使舒服；减轻痛苦 | |
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72
impugned
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| v.非难，指谪( impugn的过去式和过去分词 )；对…有怀疑 | |
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73
necessitate
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| v.使成为必要，需要 | |
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74
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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pointedly
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| adv.尖地，明显地 | |
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77
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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prevarication
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| n.支吾；搪塞；说谎；有枝有叶 | |
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dodge
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| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
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revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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81
sedately
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| adv.镇静地，安详地 | |
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82
autoing
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| vi.乘汽车（auto的现在分词形式） | |
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83
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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84
prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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85
meandering
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| 蜿蜒的河流，漫步，聊天 | |
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86
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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87
thrifty
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| adj.节俭的；兴旺的；健壮的 | |
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88
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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89
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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90
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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91
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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92
insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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93
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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95
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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96
tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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97
musingly
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| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
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98
beseechingly
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| adv. 恳求地 | |
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99
besought
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| v.恳求，乞求（某事物）( beseech的过去式和过去分词 )；(beseech的过去式与过去分词) | |
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100
grudgingly
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101
crimsoned
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| 变为深红色（crimson的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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102
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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103
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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104
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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105
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
benevolently
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| adv.仁慈地，行善地 | |
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107
stylish
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| adj.流行的，时髦的；漂亮的，气派的 | |
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108
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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