“I don’t see where he got the money to buy it,” she said. “Perfect nonsense, anyway. Don’t try to make me read the stuff.” Ellen, however, was delighted, and ransacked5 her mother’s trunks, at last pouncing6 on a collection of bound music which was almost new, and which she decided7 would make a suitable gift for her good friend.
Her happiest hours were those spent in the church at the organ, or in listening to Jeremy as he poured forth8 his soul in music. Ellen made great progress, to the intense satisfaction of her teacher. “Not a doubt but you’ll take my place one of these days,” he told her.
“But I don’t want to take your place,” declared Ellen vehemently9.
“Not when I’m no longer able to do my duty by the old organ? I’m counting on you as my successor.”
Ellen had no answer to make to this, for it was a subject she did not care to dwell upon.
One day in May, when trees were in blossom and birds were singing, Jeremy wound up his playing with Mendelssohn’s “Spring Song,” saying, as he turned on his bench, “Hackneyed as it is, I had to play that to-day. Songs without words are all around us, and we must join in. Let’s see how well you can play the ‘Wedding March’ for the birds who are mating.” He produced the music and gave his place to Ellen, listening critically as she went on. He did not interrupt, but when she had sounded the last notes he said, “Let me give you one or two suggestions and then you play it over.”
Ellen obeyed, carefully following out his directions.
“Better, much better,” he cried as the last notes died away. “Good enough for any wedding party that is likely to hear it in this church. Now I have a proposition to make to you. For years I have wanted to go to the Bach Festival at Bethlehem. This year it seemed that all was favorable for me to go. It would be a sad disappointment to me if I were to miss it. I should have to be away two or three days, and just at the last I am informed that a wedding will take place in the church on one of those very days when I should be absent. Now, then, my dear, I want you to do me the favor of taking my place. You can do it perfectly10 well. I have trained you on the Lohengrin music with this in view, and now we have the Mendelssohn march quite ready. What do you say?”
“Oh, Mr. Todd, do you really think I can do it well enough?” Ellen was quite overcome.
“Certainly you can. In the first place there will be no musical critics present, and in the second place no one will notice anything but the wedding party. You might play execrably and it would make no difference so long as there was an approach to the familiar strains. I will see that some one is at hand to tell you when to begin and when to stop, so you won’t be flustered11.”
“You know I would do almost anything for you, Mr. Todd,” said Ellen earnestly, “and if you think I can do it well enough and won’t get panicky I’ll try my best.”
“Good girl! Now then, I want you to know that you will be doing not only a great favor to me, but you will be earning five dollars, for that is what is paid for the music.”
“Oh, but, Mr. Todd, I couldn’t take any money when I am simply acting12 in your place; besides, see how much in your debt I am already.”
“Nonsense, nonsense! There is no question of debt. I have enjoyed our lessons more than I can tell you, and am I to be paid for receiving pleasure? No, no, that is out of the question. Moreover, I shall stay at home unless you are willing to make this a matter of business. Do you want to deprive me of that which I have longed for during all these years?”
“No, no, I don’t want that; of course I don’t; I want you to go. I’ll not do anything to keep you.”
“Then it’s settled. You take my place and I go to the festival with joy. It will be one of the happiest experiences of my life. Now I will tell you that I hoped for this long ago, when you first asked me to think of some way in which you could earn money. Perhaps you have wondered why I have been so particular about these wedding marches. I wanted to prepare you for some such occasion. Now I am perfectly satisfied that you will do me credit, and I can go off with a clear conscience.”
“How can I thank you? It is perfectly wonderful,” said Ellen with shining eyes.
“It is wonderful for me. Now, how are you going to spend the money? You have said that you longed to do something for Rindy. What is it to be?”
“A party. She shall have a birthday party. She has never had one in her life. Of course it can’t be a very stylish13 affair, but it will be in June, rose time, and there will be flowers to dress up the house with.”
“All you want from our bushes. Great scheme, Ellen. I’ll help all I can.” It was just the sort of thing to appeal to Jeremy.
“We mustn’t let her know till the last minute, or she will throw cold water on the plan. She will say it is extravagant14, and I mustn’t spend money on her. But is it extravagant to do her honor, to give her a good time when she has never had any? Is it foolish, Mr. Todd?”
“It is not, and you will be giving others a good time, too, so the circle widens. I approve heartily15.”
So from this time on Ellen began to scheme. She made out her list of invitations and went around to deliver them herself. “It is a sort of surprise party,” she told Miss Rindy’s friends; “at least she is not to know about it till the day. I am giving her the party for a birthday present.”
“You are? Well, I call that real nice of you,” said Mrs. Todd, who was the first to be approached. “I don’t suppose you’d mind if I sent in a birthday cake, would you?”
“Oh, no, indeed. I’d be only too delighted to have it. Thank you very much indeed, Mrs. Todd, for thinking of it. You are sure it won’t be too much trouble for you?”
“No, it will be a pleasure. Now Jeremy is away I only have myself to cook for, you know.”
The gist16 of the matter was that by the time Ellen had concluded her rounds no less than six birthday cakes had been promised, while Maria Perry asked if she didn’t want some pretty little candies to set off her table, and Mrs. Hale offered to make a fruit punch, herself supplying the fruit.
“I certainly do want to help all I can,” said this lady. “You say you are going to have ice-cream. Are you going to buy it or make it?”
“I shall have to buy it,” Ellen told her, “for in the first place I don’t know how to make it, and then we haven’t such a thing as a freezer.”
Mrs. Hale considered the matter for a moment. “I tell you what you can do,” she said. “Make it over here. Lucilena makes fine ice-cream, and she’d love to help. We have a great big freezer which can be kept here and taken over when you’re ready for it. I’ll order the ice and things for you, and that will let you out of that much trouble.”
“How good you are,” cried Ellen gratefully. “Every one is so kind.”
“It’s mighty17 little to do for Miss Rindy,” declared Mrs. Hale. “She’s always doing something for the rest of us, but never lets us do anything for her. I shall never forget how good she was to us when Billy had diphtheria. I believe she saved his life. Oh, no, you mustn’t think it counts for anything to do this little bit.”
Having made all her arrangements for the party, Ellen next turned her attention to her music for the wedding. It was an ordeal18, but she meant to meet it bravely, and so she did. It was a noon affair, but not a stylish one. The bride was a simple little country girl, the bridegroom a young farmer, but a church wedding they must have, flowers on the altar and the conventional music. Ellen acquitted19 herself creditably, saw the bridal party depart amid showers of rice, and passed out to be clasped by Caro.
“Oh, Ellen,” cried this devoted20 friend, “I was so thrilled. To think it was you playing the wedding march! Now, I want you to promise on your sacred word of honor that you will play for me when I get married.”
“Isn’t it a little early to plan for that?” inquired Ellen laughing.
“Well, maybe it is,” returned Caro with perfect seriousness, “but I want to be sure of you.”
“Evidently you think I’m a slippery sort of person,” returned Ellen teasingly.
“No, no, you know I don’t think that, but it will be such a lovely thing to look forward to.”
“Your wedding, or my performance?”
“Stop teasing,” said Caro, giving her a gentle shake. “What are you going to do now?”
“I am going home to haul over the things in one of my mother’s trunks. Cousin Rindy has got to have something to wear to her party. I have told every one to dress up in her best, but, dear me, you know what Cousin Rindy’s best is. She hasn’t even the plainest sort of white frock to her name, just some old lawns and things, and I want to see her dressed up for once in her life.”
“What do you think you can find to dress her up in?” inquired Caro, who was deeply interested in the coming event.
“I think there is a black lace dress of Mother’s which will do. Dear Mother kept it to wear evenings when she went out to sing. She disposed of all her colored dresses when she went into mourning for my father.”
“And what shall you wear?”
“Cousin Rindy has made over for me the only white dress that Mother had. Dear Mother had worn out most of the other things, so there wasn’t much left that could be used, but I’m pretty sure of the black lace, and I think Cousin Rindy can wear it just as it is.”
“I am just crazy to see how she will look. When are you going to tell her, Ellen?”
“Not till the very day. You mustn’t fail me, Caro. You know you are to help serve the refreshments21.”
“Fail you? I never was more excited in my life. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Every one is talking about it.”
“I hope to goodness they won’t let the cat out of the bag. I do want to keep it a secret up to the very day. Cousin Rindy is capable of balking22 if you give her time to think.”
The lace dress was discovered to be in quite as good order as Ellen had hoped. It was shaken out and hung up in her clothespress, to be ready for the great day.
It was mid-June. There was no school to think of, for the summer holidays had begun. Mr. Todd had returned long since from his outing, uplifted because of the good time he had had, meeting old friends, talking with kindred spirits, and, above all, listening to such music as he had not heard since his student days. “Some day you must go,” he told Ellen as he ended his account of his experiences.
“It will be a long time before I arrive at a proper appreciation23 of Bach,” Ellen told him, “and still longer before I can afford such a jaunt24.”
“One never knows,” returned her friend. “I was a long time saving enough for the journey, and could never have indulged myself in such extravagance if a friend had not made it possible by inviting25 me to stay with him. However, my child, as I said, one never knows. There may be a perfect rush of weddings when your services will be required at the organ.”
“No, indeed, I shall not take your place again. I feel guilty, as it is, to have accepted your fee.”
“You earned it, and did mighty well, I hear. It won’t do to say you will never do it again; I might have lumbago.” And he went off chuckling26.
Long before this Ellen had lost all awe27 of her cousin. At first, depressed28, lonely, grief-stricken, she had shown only a meek29 spirit. She did not know what kindness, justice, and good sense lay behind Miss Rindy’s abrupt30 manner, but in time she found out, her spirits revived, and she teased, cajoled, made enthusiastic appeals, just as she had done in her own home.
On the morning of Miss Rindy’s birthday she began her man?uvres at the breakfast table. “I hope you don’t forget that this is your birthday,” she said. “Now, would you rather I kissed you once a minute for three-quarters of an hour, or will you take a kiss once a day for forty-six days?”
“You ridiculous girl! You know what I think about kissing.”
“That’s the reason I asked. I didn’t know but you would rather have it over at once than prolong the agony.”
“I don’t see the necessity of doing either.”
“We’ve got to do something to celebrate, so I thought that might appeal to you as being a cheap way of getting out of it. If you object to that form of celebration, what do you say to a party?”
“A party, indeed! What are you talking about? I never had a party in my life.”
“Then it’s high time you had, and I mean that you shall.”
“You do, do you? I suppose you mean to furnish party dresses, refreshments, decorations, and all that.”
“Of course I do.”
“And where, may I ask, do you expect to get the money?”
“Oh, I have money enough. Five dollars should cover the expense of the modest entertainment I have in mind.”
“Five dollars, and where did you get five dollars?” Miss Rindy leaned forward with real eagerness.
“Earned it.”
“How?”
“Playing wedding marches for Miss Matilda Andrews’ wedding.”
“You don’t mean to say they paid you for that? I thought you did it as a favor so Jeremy could go to that musical thing he was so set upon.”
“He called it a favor, but I was paid just the same.”
“You ought to give it right back to him.”
“I tried to, but he won’t take it, so to ease my conscience I am going to blow it in on a party for you, which he can enjoy as well as the rest.”
“That is a perfectly absurd and ridiculous notion. You need shoes.”
“I can get along with those I have, or wear a pair of Mother’s if I stuff cotton in the toes. If worst comes to worst, I can go to one of those communities where they run around barefoot for their health’s sake. Now, Cousin Rindy, I don’t mind those disapproving31 looks one little bit. I’ve made all my arrangements. In a few minutes I expect the first birthday cake to be delivered. The invitations are all out; I hope you will approve of the list. The cakes are baked, or will be before the morning is over, so this evening you must be ready to receive your guests. I don’t believe you will be so cruel as to disappoint them and me.”
Miss Rindy’s usually firm lips began to quiver. “But Ellen, but Ellen——”
“Ellen me no Ellens. Unless you want me to die of mortification32 you will succumb33 gracefully34.”
“It looks as if I must,” Miss Rindy sighed half wistfully. “But I have nothing suitable to wear.”
“Oh, yes, you have. When we have finished the breakfast dishes we will go up-stairs and try it on.”
“What is it?” Miss Rindy’s curiosity really was aroused.
“That black lace of Mother’s. I am sure it will fit you, or at least, made as it is, you can wear it. I want you to take it as a birthday gift from me.”
“I shall not do it. You will need it yourself some day.”
“Do you consider black lace suitable for a chit of a girl? By the time I could wear it, firstly, it would be all out of style; secondly35, it will have turned brown or green from lying away; and thirdly, it may drop to pieces from the same cause. Now be a nice, good child and do this for me. I want you to wear, too, that pretty bead36 chain thing one of your soldier boys made, and sent you last Christmas. You never would wear it, and now’s your chance. It will set off your dress beautifully, and with a rose or two you will look like a queen. Don’t dawdle37 over your food, Orinda; there is a lot to be done, and we must get on.”
“I declare, Ellen,” Miss Rindy began as she took up her knife and fork again, but she stopped short, and looked so pathetically meek that Ellen felt like laughing, telling herself that her cousin stood bossing pretty well.
The rest of the day Miss Rindy acted like one in a daze38. The dress was found to suit perfectly, although at first Miss Rindy insisted that she had never worn anything so low in the neck, and that it must be fastened up close to her chin, as she never wore anything in any other way.
“Then it is high time you did,” insisted Ellen, still bossy39. “Any one with such a pretty white throat should show it. My conscience, Cousin Rindy! Nobody could call that anything but modest in the extreme.”
“But I shall be so conscious and uncomfortable.”
“You’ll be mighty comfortable on a hot day like this, and if it should happen that you sink through the floor with shame I’ll get the rector to go down into the cellar and bring you up.”
“You do talk the most utter nonsense.”
“Every one talks nonsense when they’re giving a birthday party. I hope I won’t do anything perfectly scan’lous before the day is over.”
“I’m not sure that you won’t,” returned Miss Rindy grimly, “considering the way you have begun.”
“That isn’t a circumstance to the way I shall end,” retorted Ellen lightly.
“I want to see that list of invitations,” Miss Rindy changed the subject.
“You shall see it.”
“How did you word your notes?”
“Like this: ‘Miss Ellen North’s compliments to Mrs. So-and-So, and requests the pleasure of her company on June fifteenth at eight o’clock in the evening at a birthday party in honor of Miss Orinda Crump.’ Of course, it was rather formal, and as I took them around myself I needn’t have written them, but could have delivered my message in person, but I wanted to be sure how many would accept, and then I didn’t want them to forget.”
“Nobody in this town would be likely to forget a party at Rindy Crump’s,” was the comment, given gruffly.
There never was a more active person than Ellen showed herself to be that day. She made the house into a bower40, she was “up-stairs, down-stairs, and in my lady’s chamber,” so that every room was rose-sweet. The cakes kept arriving up to the last minute,—even Miss Sophia Garrett sent one,—and the bowl of fruit punch was delivered safely, while the freezer of ice-cream stood in readiness to be brought over by Lucilena at the last moment. Mrs. Hale offered to lend Lucilena for the occasion, that dusky person eagerly seconding the offer. Wipers was dressed up in a flaunting41 blue bow made from a discarded hair ribbon of Caro’s; to be truthful42 one must relate that it was torn to bits before midnight in an affray with Bunty, but this did not prevent Wipers’ initial appearance from being quite magnificent.
The hardest duty of the day was that of dressing43 up Miss Rindy, who balked44 every step of the way. “You must let me do your hair,” Ellen insisted at the outset.
“What for?” asked Miss Rindy.
“Because I want it to be becoming.”
“It does well enough. I’ve always worn it this way, and I don’t mean to change.”
“Just for this once; if you don’t like it you can go back to the old way. Do you know I read somewhere that a woman doesn’t begin to grow old till she ceases to change the arrangement of her hair. I am crazy to see how you will look when I am through with you.”
“Very well, go ahead, but I warn you that if I don’t like it, down it comes.”
Ellen went ahead. She waved, fluffed out, brought down becoming locks over the high expanse of her cousin’s forehead, and then giggled45 as she stood off to see the effect.
“I suppose I do look like a perfect guy,” said Miss Rindy, “so it’s no wonder you’re laughing at me. Give me that hand mirror.”
“No, no, you are not to see yourself till you are all dressed. I was laughing because I’m so pleased at the result of my efforts.”
“You don’t expect me to get dressed twice. How can I do my hair with that fancy frock on?”
“That is just what I don’t expect. I guarantee that you won’t want to take off the frock once you see how well you look.” She slipped the dress over her cousin’s head, fastened it, after many objections to the extremely modest display of throat, finished it off with an old-fashioned pin, swung the chain into place, then turned her cousin around to face the large mirror. “There,” she exclaimed, “how do you think you look?”
“Like a fool,” responded Miss Rindy with her twist of a smile.
“Orinda Crump, I am ashamed of you! You know perfectly well that you never looked so well in all your life. You’d pass for no more than thirty-five at the most. Will you have a dab46 of powder on your nose? You won’t? Well, with your nice complexion47 you really don’t need it. ’Fess up that you are pleased as Punch.”
“I have to acknowledge, Ellen, that I never dreamed that dress could make such a difference, and that I suppose I am a vain old goose to be so pleased, but what troubles me is what people will think. I know what Sophy Bennett will say: ‘There’s no fool like an old fool.’”
“What do you care what she says or thinks? I’m sorry I invited her if you think she’ll make you feel uncomfortable.”
“She won’t, not any more than any one else. Let’s go down, Ellen, before I get so puffed48 up looking at myself in the glass that there’ll be no enduring me.”
“There’s the bell,” cried Ellen.
“Don’t leave me up here alone,” Miss Rindy called after her, “for there is no knowing into what self-abasement I may plunge49. If I don’t rend50 my heart I may rend my garments, so wait for me, and, once having put my hand to the plough, I shall not dare to turn back.”
Ellen waited for her half-way down the stairs, and together they greeted the first arrivals, these happening to be Caro and her parents.
“It’s good you happen to be the first, Sam Rowe,” was Miss Rindy’s greeting to the doctor. “This is my first party, you know, and I’m liable to faint dead away from excitement, I’m in such a flutter.”
“You don’t look much as if you’d faint,” returned the doctor. “I never saw you look so well.”
“Why, Rindy Crump,” Mrs. Rowe had been looking her over, “what have you been doing to yourself? You look ten years younger.”
“Doesn’t she?” the doctor agreed. “You’re almost good-looking, Rindy.”
“Sh! Sh!” warned Miss Rindy. “Here come some more people. I must compose my countenance51. If you don’t stop your compliments, I shall have a rush of blood to the head, and then what? Go along, Sam Rowe, and try out your flattery on some one else, Sophy Bennett, for instance.”
The doctor made a wry52 face but moved on, and soon Miss Rindy was surrounded by her guests.
点击收听单词发音
1 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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2 smuggled | |
水货 | |
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3 furtively | |
adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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4 sniffed | |
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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5 ransacked | |
v.彻底搜查( ransack的过去式和过去分词 );抢劫,掠夺 | |
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6 pouncing | |
v.突然袭击( pounce的现在分词 );猛扑;一眼看出;抓住机会(进行抨击) | |
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7 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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8 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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9 vehemently | |
adv. 热烈地 | |
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10 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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11 flustered | |
adj.慌张的;激动不安的v.使慌乱,使不安( fluster的过去式和过去分词) | |
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12 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
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13 stylish | |
adj.流行的,时髦的;漂亮的,气派的 | |
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14 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
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15 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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16 gist | |
n.要旨;梗概 | |
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17 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
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18 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
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19 acquitted | |
宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(自己)作出某种表现 | |
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20 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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21 refreshments | |
n.点心,便餐;(会议后的)简单茶点招 待 | |
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22 balking | |
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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23 appreciation | |
n.评价;欣赏;感谢;领会,理解;价格上涨 | |
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24 jaunt | |
v.短程旅游;n.游览 | |
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25 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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26 chuckling | |
轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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27 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
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28 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
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29 meek | |
adj.温顺的,逆来顺受的 | |
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30 abrupt | |
adj.突然的,意外的;唐突的,鲁莽的 | |
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31 disapproving | |
adj.不满的,反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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32 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
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33 succumb | |
v.屈服,屈从;死 | |
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34 gracefully | |
ad.大大方方地;优美地 | |
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35 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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36 bead | |
n.念珠;(pl.)珠子项链;水珠 | |
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37 dawdle | |
vi.浪费时间;闲荡 | |
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38 daze | |
v.(使)茫然,(使)发昏 | |
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39 bossy | |
adj.爱发号施令的,作威作福的 | |
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40 bower | |
n.凉亭,树荫下凉快之处;闺房;v.荫蔽 | |
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41 flaunting | |
adj.招摇的,扬扬得意的,夸耀的v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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42 truthful | |
adj.真实的,说实话的,诚实的 | |
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43 dressing | |
n.(食物)调料;包扎伤口的用品,敷料 | |
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44 balked | |
v.畏缩不前,犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 );(指马)不肯跑 | |
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45 giggled | |
v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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46 dab | |
v.轻触,轻拍,轻涂;n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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47 complexion | |
n.肤色;情况,局面;气质,性格 | |
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48 puffed | |
adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 );喷着汽(或烟)移动;吹嘘;吹捧 | |
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49 plunge | |
v.跳入,(使)投入,(使)陷入;猛冲 | |
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50 rend | |
vt.把…撕开,割裂;把…揪下来,强行夺取 | |
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51 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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52 wry | |
adj.讽刺的;扭曲的 | |
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