“I can understand all right about Andrew Bolton's turning up,” one man was saying. “He was bound to turn up sooner or later. I seen him myself, day before yesterday, going down street. Thinks I, ‘Who can that be?’ There was something kind of queer about the way he dragged his feet. What you going to do about it, Judge? Have we got to put up with having a jailbird, as crazy as a loon10 into the bargain, living right here in our midst?”
“In luxury and idleness, like he was a captain of industry,” drawled another man who was eating hot dog and sipping11 beer. “That's what strikes me kind of hard, Judge, in luxury and idleness, while the rest of us has to work.”
Judge Fulsom gave an inarticulate grunt12 and smoked on imperturbably13.
“Set down, boys; set down,” ordered a small man in a red sweater under a corduroy coat. “Give the Jedge a chance! He ain't going to deliver no opinion whilst you boys are rammaging around. Set down and let the Jedge take th' floor.”
A general scraping of chair legs and a shuffling14 of uneasy feet followed this exhortation15; still no word from the huge, impassive figure in the central chair. The oily-faced young man behind the bar improved the opportunity by washing a dozen or so glasses, setting them down showily on a tin tray in view of the company.
“Quit that noise, Cholley!” exhorted16 the small man in the red sweater; “we want order in the court room—eh, Jedge?”
“What I'd like to know is where she got all that money of hers,” piped an old man, with a mottled complexion17 and bleary eyes.
“Sure enough; where'd she get it?” chimed in half a dozen voices at once.
“She's Andrew Bolton's daughter,” said the first speaker. “And she's been setting up for a fine lady, doing stunts18 for charity. How about our town hall an' our lov-elly library, an' our be-utiful drinking fountain, and the new shingles19 on our church roof? You don't want to ask too many questions, Lute20.”
“Don't I?” cried the man, who was eating hot dog. “You all know me! I ain't a-going to stand for no grab-game. If she's got money, it's more than likely the old fox salted it down before they ketched him. It's our money; that's whose money 'tis, if you want to know!”
And he swallowed his mouthful with a slow, menacing glance which swept the entire circle.
“Now, Lucius,” began Judge Fulsom, removing the pipe from his mouth, “go slow! No use in talk without proof.”
“But what have you got to say, Jedge? Where'd she get all that money she's been flamming about with, and that grand house, better than new, with all the latest improvements. Wa'n't we some jays to be took in like we was by a little, white-faced chit like her? Couldn't see through a grindstone with a hole in it! Bolton House.... And an automobile21 to fetch the old jailbird home in. Wa'n't it love-ly?”
A low growl22 ran around the circle.
“Durn you, Lute! Don't you see the Jedge has something to say?” demanded the man behind the bar.
Judge Fulsom slowly tapped his pipe on the arm of his chair. “If you all will keep still a second and let me speak,” he began.
“I want my rights,” interrupted a man with a hoarse23 crow.
“Your rights!” shouted the Judge. “You've got no right to a damned thing but a good horsewhipping!”
“I've got my rights to the money other folks are keeping, I'll let you know!”
Then the Judge fairly bellowed24, as he got slowly to his feet:
“I tell you once for all, the whole damned lot of you,” he shouted, “that every man, woman and child in Brookville has been paid, compensated25, remunerated and requited26 in full for every cent he, she or it lost in the Andrew Bolton bank failure.”
There was a snarl27 of dissent28.
“You all better go slow, and hold your tongues, and mind your own business. Remember what I say; that girl does not owe a red cent in this town, neither does her father. She's paid in full, and you've spent a lot of it in here, too!” The Judge wiped his red face.
“Oh, come on, Jedge; you don't want to be hard on the house,” protested the man in the red sweater, waving his arms as frantically29 as a freight brakeman. “Say, you boys! don't ye git excited! The Jedge didn't mean that; you got him kind of het up with argufying.... Down in front, boys! You, Lute—”
But it was too late: half a dozen voices were shouting at once. There was a simultaneous descent upon the bar, with loud demands for liquor of the sort Lute Parsons filled up on. Then the raucous30 voice of the ringleader pierced the tumult31.
“Come on, boys! Let's go out to the old place and get our rights off that gal32 of Bolton's!”
“That's th' stuff, Lute!” yelled the others, clashing their glasses wildly. “Come on! Come on, everybody!”
In vain Judge Fulsom hammered on the bar and called for order in the court room. The majesty33 of the law, as embodied34 in his great bulk, appeared to have lost its power. Even his faithful henchman in the red sweater had joined the rioters and was yelling wildly for his rights. Somebody flung wide the door, and the barroom emptied itself into the night, leaving the oily young man at his post of duty gazing fearfully at the purple face of Judge Fulsom, who stood staring, as if stupefied, at the overturned chairs, the broken glasses and the empty darkness outside.
“Say, Jedge, them boys was sure some excited,” ventured the bartender timidly. “You don't s'pose—”
The big man put himself slowly into motion.
“I'll get th' constable,” he growled35. “I—I'll run 'em in; and I'll give Lute Parsons the full extent of the law, if it's the last thing I do on earth. I—I'll teach them!—I'll give them all they're lookin' for.”
And he, too, went out, leaving the door swinging in the cold wind.
At the corner, still meditating36 vengeance37 for this affront38 to his dignity, Judge Fulsom almost collided with the hurrying figure of a man approaching in the opposite direction.
“Hello!” he challenged sharply. “Where you goin' so fast, my friend?”
“Evening, Judge,” responded the man, giving the other a wide margin39.
“Oh, it's Jim Dodge40—eh? Say, Jim, did you meet any of the boys on the road?”
“What boys?”
“Why, we got into a little discussion over to the Brookville House about this Andrew Bolton business—his coming back unexpected, you know; and some of the boys seemed to think they hadn't got all that was coming to them by rights. Lute Parsons he gets kind of worked up after about three or four glasses, and he sicked the boys onto going out there, and—”
“Going out—where? In the name of Heaven, what do you mean, Judge?”
“I told 'em to keep cool and— Say, don't be in a hurry, Jim. I had an awful good mind to call out Hank Simonson to run a few of 'em in. But I dunno as the boys'll do any real harm. They wouldn't dare. They know me, and they know—”
“Do you mean that drunken mob was headed for Bolton House? Why, Good Lord, man, she's there practically alone!”
“Well, perhaps you'd better see if you can get some help,” began the Judge, whose easy-going disposition41 was already balking42 at effort.
But Jim Dodge, shouting back a few trenchant43 directions, had already disappeared, running at top speed.
There was a short cut to Bolton House, across plowed44 fields and through a patch of woodland. Jim Dodge ran all the way, wading45 a brook1, swollen46 with the recent rains, tearing his way through thickets47 of brush and bramble, the twinkling lights in the top story of the distant house leading him on. Once he paused for an instant, thinking he heard the clamor of rude voices borne on the wind; then plunged48 forward again, his flying feet seemingly weighted with lead; and all the while an agonizing49 picture of Lydia, white and helpless, facing the crowd of drunken men flitted before his eyes.
Now he had reached the wall at the rear of the gardens; had clambered over it, dropping to his feet in the midst of a climbing rose which clutched at him with its thorny50 branches; had run across an acre of kitchen garden and leaped the low-growing hedge which divided it from the sunken flower garden he had made for Lydia. Here were more rosebushes and an interminable space broken by walks and a sundial, masked by shrubs51, with which he collided violently. There was no mistaking the clamor from the front of the house; the rioters had reached their quarry52 first! Not stopping to consider what one man, single-handed and unarmed, could do against a score of drunken opponents, the young man rounded the corner of the big house just as the door was flung wide and the slim figure of Lydia stood outlined against the bright interior.
“What do you want, men?” she called out, in her clear, fearless voice. “What has happened?”
There was a confused murmur53 of voices in reply. Most of the men were decent enough fellows, when sober. Some one was heard to suggest a retreat: “No need to scare the young lady. 'Tain't her fault!”
“Aw! shut up, you coward!” shouted another. “We want our money!”
“Where did you get yer money?” demanded a third. “You tell us that, young woman. That's what we're after!”
“Where's the old thief? ...We want Andrew Bolton!”
Then from somewhere in the darkness a pebble54 flung by a reckless hand shattered a pane55 of glass. At sound of the crash all pretense56 of decency57 and order seemed abandoned. The spirit of the pack broke loose!
Just what happened from the moment when he leaped upon the portico58, wrenching59 loose a piece of iron pipe which formed the support of a giant wistaria, Jim Dodge could never afterward60 recall in precise detail. A sort of wild rage seized him; he struck right and left among the dark figures swarming61 up the steps. There were cries, shouts, curses, flying stones; then he had dragged Lydia inside and bolted the heavy door between them and the ugly clamor without.
She faced him where he stood, breathing hard, his back against the barred door.
“They were saying—” she whispered, her face still and white. “My God! What do they think I've done?”
“They're drunk,” he explained. “It was only a miserable62 rabble63 from the barroom in the village. But if you'd been here alone—!”
She shook her head.
“I recognized the man who spoke64 first; his name is Parsons. There were others, too, who worked on the place here in the summer.... They have heard?”
He nodded, unable to speak because of something which rose in his throat choking him. Then he saw a thin trickle65 of red oozing66 from under the fair hair above her temple, and the blood hammered in his ears.
“You are hurt!” he said thickly. “The devils struck you!”
“It's nothing—a stone, perhaps.”
Something in the sorrowful look she gave him broke down the flimsy barrier between them.
“Lydia—Lydia!” he cried, holding out his arms.
She clung to him like a child. They stood so for a moment, listening to the sounds from without. There were still occasional shouts and the altercation67 of loud, angry voices; but this was momently growing fainter; presently it died away altogether.
She stirred in his arms and he stooped to look into her face.
“I—Father will be frightened,” she murmured, drawing away from him with a quick decided68 movement. “You must let me go.”
“Not until I have told you, Lydia! I am poor, rough—not worthy69 to touch you—but I love you with my whole heart and soul, Lydia. You must let me take care of you. You need me, dear.”
Tears overflowed70 her eyes, quiet, patient tears; but she answered steadily71.
“Can't you see that I—I am different from other women? I have only one thing to live for. I must go to him.... You had forgotten—him.”
In vain he protested, arguing his case with all lover's skill and ingenuity72. She shook her head.
“Sometime you will forgive me that one moment of weakness,” she said sadly. “I was frightened and—tired.”
He followed her upstairs in gloomy silence. The old man, she was telling him hurriedly, would be terrified. She must reassure73 him; and tomorrow they would go away together for a long journey. She could see now that she had made a cruel mistake in bringing him to Brookville.
But there was no answer in response to her repeated tapping at his door; and suddenly the remembrance of that stooping shadow came back to him.
“Let me go in,” he said, pushing her gently aside.
The lights, turned high in the quiet room, revealed only emptiness and disorder74; drawers and wardrobes pulled wide, scattered75 garments apparently76 dropped at random77 on chairs and tables. The carpet, drawn78 aside in one corner, disclosed a shallow aperture79 in the floor, from which the boards had been lifted.
“Why— What?” stammered80 the girl, all the high courage gone from her face. “What has happened?”
He picked up a box—a common cigar box—from amid the litter of abandoned clothing. It was quite empty save for a solitary81 slip of greenish paper which had somehow adhered to the bottom.
Lydia clutched the box in both trembling hands, staring with piteous eyes at the damning evidence of that bit of paper.
“Money!” she whispered. “He must have hidden it before—before— Oh, father, father!”
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收听单词发音
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1
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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forum
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| n.论坛，讨论会 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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6
puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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creased
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的过去式和过去分词 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹； 皱皱巴巴 | |
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impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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loon
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| n.狂人 | |
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sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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12
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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imperturbably
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| adv.泰然地，镇静地，平静地 | |
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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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15
exhortation
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| n.劝告，规劝 | |
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exhorted
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| v.劝告，劝说( exhort的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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shingles
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| n.带状疱疹；（布满海边的）小圆石( shingle的名词复数 )；屋顶板；木瓦（板）；墙面板 | |
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lute
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| n.琵琶，鲁特琴 | |
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automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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growl
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| v.（狗等）嗥叫，（炮等）轰鸣；n.嗥叫，轰鸣 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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compensated
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| 补偿，报酬( compensate的过去式和过去分词 )； 给（某人）赔偿（或赔款） | |
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requited
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| v.报答( requite的过去式和过去分词 )；酬谢；回报；报复 | |
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snarl
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| v.吼叫，怒骂，纠缠，混乱；n.混乱，缠结，咆哮 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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frantically
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| ad.发狂地, 发疯地 | |
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raucous
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| adj.(声音)沙哑的，粗糙的 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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embodied
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| v.表现( embody的过去式和过去分词 )；象征；包括；包含 | |
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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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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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vengeance
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| n.报复，报仇，复仇 | |
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affront
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| n./v.侮辱，触怒 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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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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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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balking
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| n.慢行，阻行v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的现在分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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43
trenchant
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| adj.尖刻的，清晰的 | |
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plowed
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| v.耕( plow的过去式和过去分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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wading
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的现在分词 ) | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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thickets
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| n.灌木丛( thicket的名词复数 )；丛状物 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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49
agonizing
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| adj.痛苦难忍的；使人苦恼的v.使极度痛苦；折磨(agonize的ing形式) | |
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thorny
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| adj.多刺的，棘手的 | |
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51
shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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52
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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pebble
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| n.卵石，小圆石 | |
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55
pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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56
pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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portico
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| n.柱廊，门廊 | |
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wrenching
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| n.修截苗根，苗木铲根（铲根时苗木不起土或部分起土）v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的现在分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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61
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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62
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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63
rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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64
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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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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66
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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68
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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69
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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70
overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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71
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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72
ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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73
reassure
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| v.使放心，使消除疑虑 | |
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disorder
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| n.紊乱，混乱；骚动，骚乱；疾病，失调 | |
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75
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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76
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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random
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| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
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78
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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80
stammered
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| v.结巴地说出( stammer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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