In view of this physical and moral transformation12, Gustavius wondered at his tolerance13 of 158the familiarities still recklessly practiced by his comrades. But how could he stoop so low as to enforce respect from a pig or a goat? The dog was eliminated from the problem, because it was a dog’s natural prerogative14 to nip at the heels of superiority and avoid punishment by flight. As for the mare15, she was uniformly courteous16, and the playfulness of the colt disarmed17 him.
Concerning the two-legged members of the family, Gustavius felt himself the victim of hereditary18 respect for the sternly authoritative19 person called Gabe, and there was something so soothing20 in the manner of the lank21, long-limbed man who spent most of his time lounging about the veranda22 that it was impossible to offer him any sort of challenge. The red-headed girl—ah! Gustavius was not ashamed to confess to himself that the bare sight of her made him glow with docile23 affection.
“And yet,” said Reginald impudently,—for 159Gustavius’s later reflections had unconsciously resolved themselves into speech, as he stood with his comrades in the afternoon shade of the willows24,—“and yet a bit of anything else as red as that girl’s hair sends you into convulsions of rage. Talk about inconsistency—”
“Shut up, pig!” said Clarence. “You’re jealous.”
Suddenly Gustavius began to bellow25 and paw the earth.
“What disturbs you, my son?” inquired Mrs. Cowslip, between the finish of one cud and the beginning of another.
“It’s that rank outsider again, who is forever butting26 in with that vile-smelling red wagon,” said Gustavius, lifting his nose toward the lawn. “He angers me beyond words. I’ve laid for him a hundred times, but he hasn’t a drop of sporting blood in his body; he’s forever 160hanging on to the skirts of the red-headed girl.”
Galatea and the Artist, carrying a long, flat box between them, were walking about the lawn midway between the house and the willows. Presently they found a smooth, level space, opened the box, and proceeded to drive into the ground two gaudily27 painted stakes and some arches of wire.
“It’s very annoying the way that chap’s always about nowadays,” admitted Reginald. “I was just thinking of going up to get my back scratched, but it’s no use now.”
“My time will come one of these days,” said Gustavius. “Just let me catch that chap alone once, that’s all!” And he began industriously28 sharpening his horns on the stone fence.
It was nothing short of wonderful, the influence unconsciously exerted by the Poet’s sister 161over these four-legged comrades whom she had captivated on the very day of her arrival, as you cannot fail to remember. Now Mrs. Cowslip, Cleopatra, Clarence, Reginald, and William, who ordinarily prided himself on his independence of action, left the grateful shade of the willows, and, with perfunctory nibblings at grass, of which they were already over-full, slowly approached the scene of preparations for that ancient and honorable game called croquet. Soon that influence was too powerful even to be resisted by Gustavius, notwithstanding the hated presence of the Artist, and he moved sulkily after the others.
The Artist was pensive30, and occasionally, as his adoring glance rested on Galatea’s graceful31 figure, he sighed. His attention being thus divided, it was not strange that he should miss the second arch.
“How foolish of you!” she said. “I can 162now save you further exertions32 by taking your ball around with me.”
Being already past the first side arch and in position for the middle one, with the Artist’s ball an easy victim, she was able to make good her promise. The Artist could not regret his inevitable33 defeat; it left him free to follow Galatea about and pour into her ears a lover’s woes34.
“Sweetheart, why do you continue so cold and distant to me? One would suppose that when a girl is engaged—”
“Arthur, take your foot away from that arch!”
With beautiful precision she made the long “split” stroke, and was safe for the first stake.
“As I was saying, dear, when a girl is engaged—”
“Arthur! you are trying to make me miss the stake! Can’t you play fair?”
163“I’m not playing at all, darling. I can’t play. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. One would expect a little mercy from a girl who wears his engagement—”
“There! you moved your ball just as I was about to strike for it!”
The Artist groaned35 and replaced the ball. She plumped her own into it dexterously36 from half-way across the field, and proceeded on the home stretch.
“I don’t know how long I’m going to stand this suspense,” sighed the Artist, “and yet you resist all my pleadings to name the day—”
“Arthur, I am playing croquet. Will you kindly37 stand one side?”
She played safely up to the last arch.
“If the date was fixed38, dear, I think I could bear your lack of—enthusiasm; that is, if the date were reasonably near—”
“Can’t you keep away from the handle of 164my mallet39, Arthur? Now I’m staked on your ball, and must risk all on one last stroke.”
“Oh, you’ll make it,” groaned the Artist. “I wish that ball was my head. Any sort of attention would be better than none at all. I’ve lost all hope of getting another kiss—”
“Ha! Whitewashed40! whitewashed!” sang the girl, dancing about the stake. “Perhaps there’s some other game you play?”
The Artist sat down on the grass with his head in his hands.
“Does your head ache, Arthur?”
“My heart aches. Darling, have pity on me and name the day when we two—”
“Why, certainly—Wednesday.”
The Artist leaped to his feet.
“Day after to-morrow—how happy you make me!”
“Oh, I haven’t decided42 on any particular Wednesday.”
165He threw himself back on the grass.
“But I’ve a feeling that it will be some Wednesday, Arthur, dear.”
Then she stooped over quickly and kissed him.
“I wondered whether Arthur would have sufficient diplomacy43 to let you win, Galatea,” said the Poet, with a perfectly44 straight face, his approach having been unobserved; “but it seems that I did him an injustice45.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Galatea with dignity; “but if you want to make it a three-handed game, I’ll undertake to whitewash41 you both.”
“Oh, there’s nothing in it for me,” drawled the Poet aggravatingly46; “however, I’m obliging by nature; I don’t mind simplifying things for Arthur.”
Galatea, with her nose in the air, sent her ball through the first two arches with a single 166stroke, and with the two thus gained took position, made the third arch, and with a swift safe drive for the middle one, which she missed, found herself well out of the way of hostile balls.
“There,” she said; “I don’t mind giving you the advantage by starting first.”
“Your generosity47 deserves a better reward,” said the Poet, as he selected a mallet with great care, “but some twenty years’ observation of the game has taught me that the croquet field is where friendship ceases.”
The Poet’s lank, knobby figure was about as symmetrical as that of a daddy-longlegs, but he had the eye of a champion marksman, and no nerves at all. He followed his sister’s tactics, and improved upon them. He took his position at the third arch with such nicety that in striking through it he sent his ball to within a yard of where Galatea’s lay.
167“Any odds48?” he asked coolly, as he clicked them together.
Galatea was scornfully silent. The Poet’s “split” for position at the centre arch was defective49, and with brutal50 disregard of the Artist’s feelings he took position directly in line with the two first arches.
“Arthur,” ordered Galatea, “come straight through and use your two strokes to get George’s ball.”
“Oh, well, if you’re going to play partners against me!” And the Poet threw down his mallet.
“There’s no rule against coaching,” snapped Galatea.
But the Artist’s mind was not on croquet. The game resolved itself into a contest between the Poet and his sister as to which should take the greatest liberties with his ball. Thus they were neck and neck at the centre arch on the 168home stretch, with the Artist still at his second arch. Galatea missed, and the Poet found himself in cocksure position for the last two arches and the stake.
By this time all the four-legged members of the firm of Bos, Equus and Co. had drawn51 near and were watching the progress of the game with lively curiosity. Reginald, with his customary assurance, now advanced with ingratiating grunts52 out of the side of his mouth, and rubbed his side against the Poet’s leg, who had a sudden inspiration.
“Two to one I can make it with the pig’s legs for arches,” he said.
Galatea experienced renewed hope. The Poet cajoled Reginald into standing29 between the two arches with his kinked tail resting upon the one nearest the stake. There was a narrow, though clear, space between his legs, in line with the arches.
169
ALL THE FOUR-LEGGED MEMBERS OF THE FIRM HAD DRAWN NEAR
171“Attention, Reginald!” and the Poet struck his ball with just the requisite53 force to send it through the two arches.
Unfortunately, at that instant Reginald sat down, and the ball, striking his fat stomach, bounced hopelessly out of position. Galatea dropped on the grass and shrieked54.
“I’ll give you the game,” said the Poet. “It’s an antiquated55 pastime, anyhow.”
“Sour grapes,” laughed Galatea.
“Not at all. I’ve thought of an improvement, that’s all,” said the Poet. “Stay where you are, Reginald. William, come here.”
The goat put his nose in the Poet’s hand and followed him to the other end of the field, where he suffered himself to be stationed between the two arches opposite the pig. Over the two arches on one side the Poet stationed Cleopatra and Clarence, and opposite them Mrs. Cowslip and Gustavius. The bull-calf wrinkled 172his yellow nose and looked mutinous56, while his comrades seemed much gratified. Then the Poet went calmly around the field and pulled up all the arches, except the centre one, and said:—
“There, all we lack is a camel or an elephant for the centre—but nothing is perfect in this world, at the start.”
“George,” said Galatea, wiping her eyes, “for out-and-out idiocy57 you certainly take the prize.”
“Not at all. That’s what’s said at first about every great discoverer. There hasn’t been a single improvement in this game in seven hundred years. Now for the first time in history you’re going to see croquet played with living arches—Ouch!”
Clarence had made a sudden playful leap from his position and nipped the Poet’s lean thigh58. He was led back and admonished59 so 173severely that he meekly60 refrained from making any further demonstrations62.
With perfect gravity the Poet led Galatea and the Artist in a game of croquet calculated to make history. If Mrs. Cowslip had not kicked the Poet’s ball clear off the field when it bounced smartly against her tenderest pastern, and if Gustavius had not destroyed the Artist’s nerve by bellowing63 hoarsely64 in his ear at a critical moment, it would have been a bewildering success.
“Anyway,” said the Poet, when Galatea had won through rank favoritism on the part of Reginald, who refrained from sitting down in her critical moment, “anyway, we’ve given one more demonstration61 that all are born free and equal in the firm of Bos, Equus and Co., even when it comes to croquet.”
“One thing I don’t understand,” said the Artist, who, being in love, was quite hopelessly 174serious, “and that is how you manage these animals turned out loose this way, when they become unruly, as all animals are apt to at times.”
“The learned Professor of whom we rented this place, and who attended to their early education, didn’t neglect that point,” answered the Poet, with a solemn glance at Galatea which brought before her mind’s eye a vision of their first exciting experience with William and Gustavius. “In times of mutiny one magic word uttered by the Professor brought them to their senses completely humbled65.”
“Indeed!” said the Artist. “This is most interesting. I’ve heard of such methods being used by animal trainers. What is that word, George?”
“Its efficacy, Arthur, consists in the rarity of its use. It is pronounced only as a last resort, as familiarity would breed contempt for it. 175The word, Arthur, is”—and he whispered in the Artist’s ear—“Abracadabra.”
And Galatea related the circumstances of their single observation of its potency,—as recorded in the early part of this veracious66 chronicle,—with special stress on the advantages offered by a low-limbed cherry tree in case of pursuit by an enraged67 bull-calf.
“What you have told me is really wonderful,” said the Artist. “Never again will I doubt that domestic animals are possessed68 of reasoning powers, as well as capacity for affection.”
“Here comes Gabriel,” said Galatea. “He looks alarmed. I wonder what has happened?”
Gabriel caught his breath and said, addressing the Poet:—
“Si Blodgett fell off a haystack an’ thinks he’s goin’ to die. He wants to confess about them eggs.”
“Oh, the poor man!” said Galatea.
176“This isn’t the first time I’ve been mistaken for a clergyman—that is, at first sight,” said the Poet. “Is he really badly hurt, Gabriel?”
“They ain’t no bones broke, but Si’s groanin’ somethin’ terrible an’ says it’s his insides.”
“But he can’t want me,” said the Poet. “Why, I put together the links of circumstantial evidence that proved he stole the eggs.”
“That’s jest it. Si says you’re th’ Lord’s instrument sent to awaken69 his sleepin’ conscience—darn him!—an’ he’s afraid of hell-fire if you don’t come an’ hear his confession70.”
“Poor man!” said Galatea, with tears in her eyes. “Come, George, I’ll go with you. It’s only a step. Arthur, you wait here; we’ll soon be back.”
Conducted by Gabriel, they disappeared down the road, and the Artist was alone with his fate. 177He had no premonition of disaster. He lay on the grass with his eyes closed, wrapped in the joys and miseries71 of being in love.
The living croquet-arches, with one impulse, got their heads together and considered the situation.
“I, for one, shall go and take a look around the kitchen,” said Clarence.
“It’s the roof of the house for me,” said William; “I haven’t had a good view of the surrounding country since strawberry-time.”
“What about that chap on the grass?” asked Gustavius. “What will he be doing?”
“That reminds me,” said Reginald; “now’s your chance, Gustavius. You’ve been longing72 to catch him alone.”
The bull-calf shook his horns sulkily. “I kind of hate to do it. He seems to be a friend of the red-headed girl.”
“Besides, my son,” observed Mrs. Cowslip, 178“none of our race ever attacks a sleeping person.”
“Leave that to me,” said Reginald; “it’s time an example should be made of these outsiders.”
Clarence agreed with him. They began circling around the prostrate73 enemy, gradually drawing nearer, nipping at his legs or arms and darting74 away, until at length Clarence’s teeth brought their victim to his feet with a yell of mingled75 surprise and pain. But the Artist was not of a vengeful disposition76.
“Ha! ha!” he laughed, “you’re spoiling for a frolic, I see!”
He ran toward the colt and then turned, as though inviting77 pursuit. The invitation was accepted with a unanimity78 that thoroughly79 alarmed the Artist. Even Mrs. Cowslip and Cleopatra were making hostile demonstrations, while William was backing away with a significance 179that caused the Artist to seize a croquet mallet as he dodged80 about the field. This was enough for the bull-calf, who began bellowing and pawing the earth, while his eyes turned red.
“Good fellows! good boys!” said the Artist, holding out his hand.
But they gathered about him closer yet, with snorts, bellows81, and grunts which convinced the Artist it was time to exert authority. So he shouted in a stern voice:—
“Away! To the barn, all of you!”
For answer the indignant pig ran between his legs, all but upsetting him, and the others crowded in closer yet. Thoroughly frightened, the Artist decided that extreme measures were justifiable82. Recalling the magic word whispered in his ear by the Poet, he raised his hand and thundered:—
“ABRACADABRA!”
180The effect was instantaneous, but disconcerting. After one instant of general stupefaction, Clarence stood on his hind-legs with his forefeet beating the air, and addressed his companions in a shrill83 whinny, which they readily understood to mean:—
“What! Shall a miserable84 interloper presume so far!”
“Let me at him!” roared the bull-calf, with horns low and tail high.
The Artist turned and fled, with Gustavius bellowing at his heels, urged on by his comrades following close behind. Straight for the house sped the fugitive85. The low-limbed cherry tree was nearer, and, luckily, he remembered it in time. Having sufficient presence of mind at the last moment to fling his forty-dollar Panama hat into Gustavius’s face, he swung himself into the tree, and was safe.
Gustavius kept one eye on him while practicing 181on the hat, which was presently only an expensive memory.
Clarence, finding the kitchen door open, walked in. By way of a rain-water barrel, the woodshed, and the water-tank, William mounted to the peak of the house roof and proceeded to enjoy the prospect86. Reginald made himself comfortable in a veranda rocker. Mrs. Cowslip found the soft earth of the tulip-bed conducive87 to somnolence88 and cud-chewing, while Cleopatra grazed near by on some late pansies. Such was the scene that presented itself to Galatea when she returned alone, having found Si Blodgett more scared than hurt.
“Why, Arthur!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing up there?”
“Call off your bull-calf, and I’ll come down and tell you.” The Artist was annoyed.
“Gustavius? Why, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
182“Wouldn’t he? Just look at my forty-dollar Panama!”
“Oh, Arthur, surely there must be some mistake—some misunderstanding.”
“It’s past the misunderstanding stage when I’m treed like this.”
“You must have said something that offended Gustavius. He’s terribly sensitive, poor fellow!”
“Said something! I treated them like friends and fellow citizens till they all set upon me at once; then, seeing it was a conspiracy89, I said ‘Abracadabra,’ of course.”
“Oh, Arthur! You forgot that you had no right—that you were not a member of our family—yet.”
“They seemed to remember it all right—especially the bull-calf. I nearly burst a blood-vessel getting up here.”
“It is really most unfortunate, Arthur.” She 183looked about her, at the late pansies, at the tulip-bed, and at the house roof, and said reproachfully: “William! Mrs. Cowslip! Cleopatra!”
The goat came meekly down from the roof. The cow and the mare walked slowly off toward the barn, much mortified90.
“You don’t seem to mind Gustavius—and me,” complained the Artist.
Galatea sat on the grass and took off her hat.
“You may come down presently, Arthur. I have long wanted to say certain things to you, but you are so impulsive91 in your—in various ways, that it seemed necessary for me to wait for some such opportunity as this, when you are—otherwise occupied. Arthur, you have pressed me to name a day for a certain ceremony—”
She was interrupted by a bellow from Gustavius, 184consequent upon a sudden movement of the Artist, who immediately concluded not to forsake92 his perch93.
“Must you interrupt me, Arthur?”
“I didn’t; it was the bull-calf; I don’t bellow.”
“Well, Arthur, I would oblige you and set a date for our wedding if I were quite sure that we understand each other.”
“Galatea, there’s nothing to understand except that I love you to the extinction94 of every other thought or feeling, and always shall.” He paused to regain95 his balance, for the tree was a small one, and swayed under the stress of his emotion.
“Then, dear, if I set an early date, will you promise faithfully to love me in all my moods, no matter what I say or do, and never be angry, or dispute with me about anything?”
“Bless you, my darling! I swear it!”
185“Have you no misgivings96, Arthur?”
“None, none! Not one!”
“Not even when you remember that my hair is red?”
“I adore red hair!”
“But not on other girls, Arthur?”
“No; only on you, darling.”
“Thank you, Arthur, dear. If the second Wednesday in October, five weeks hence, will suit you, then you may come down and kiss me.”
“Galatea!”
Gustavius pawed the earth, and he hesitated.
“Can a bull-calf stand between you and me, Arthur?”
“Never!” He leaped far out from the tree and took her in his arms.
Gustavius gave them one glance and walked away in disgust. Being only a bull-calf, he did not realize that he had accomplished97 in a 186single afternoon something which had baffled the little rosy98 god himself for more than a year.
The sound of voices in the road brought the lovers back to earth.
“It’s all over,” said the Poet, catching99 sight of them. “Si Blodgett has confessed everything, and his insides don’t hurt him any more.”
Gabriel had intercepted100 the rural delivery; he gave Galatea a letter bearing a foreign postmark. She tore open the envelope, read two pages, and exclaimed:—
“O George, it’s from the Professor! Just listen to this:—
“‘Finding the cause of the higher education of domestic animals much farther advanced in Germany than in America, I have decided to locate permanently101 in Berlin, where some promising102 pupils have been placed in my charge, including 187a young ram103 with a wonderful talent for algebra104. I am therefore offering for sale the place which you leased from me, at the very reasonable price of seven thousand five hundred to you, knowing that my former pupils will thus continue in good hands.’”
“Too bad,” sighed the Poet; “I’ve often wished I’d been born a plumber105.”
“Galatea,” said the Artist, “would you really like to have this place for your own?”
“Oh, Arthur, it makes me weep to think of leaving Gustavius, and Clarence, and Reginald—”
“And Cleopatra, and Mrs. Cowslip, and William, and Napoleon,” added the Poet.
“You shall not leave them,” said the Artist, beaming upon them both. “Give me the Professor’s address, Galatea, and you shall have a deed of the place on the second Wednesday in October.”
188“Eh, what’s that—the second Wednesday in October?” said the Poet.
“Why, on that happy date,” said the Artist, as Galatea flung her arms about his neck, “Bos, Equus and Co. are to take in a new partner.”
The End
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jocund
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| adj.快乐的，高兴的 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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placid
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mightily
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painstaking
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friction
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rigidly
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| adv.刻板地，僵化地 | |
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embedded
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skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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tolerance
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| n.宽容；容忍，忍受；耐药力；公差 | |
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prerogative
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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courteous
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| adj.彬彬有礼的，客气的 | |
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disarmed
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| v.裁军( disarm的过去式和过去分词 )；使息怒 | |
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hereditary
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| adj.遗传的，遗传性的，可继承的，世袭的 | |
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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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soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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lank
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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docile
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| adj.驯服的，易控制的，容易教的 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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bellow
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| v.吼叫，怒吼；大声发出，大声喝道 | |
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butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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gaudily
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industriously
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standing
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pensive
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graceful
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exertions
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inevitable
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woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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dexterously
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kindly
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fixed
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mallet
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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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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43
diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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injustice
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| n.非正义，不公正，不公平，侵犯（别人的）权利 | |
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46
aggravatingly
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generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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48
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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49
defective
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| adj.有毛病的，有问题的，有瑕疵的 | |
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brutal
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| adj.残忍的，野蛮的，不讲理的 | |
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51
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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52
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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53
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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54
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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mutinous
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| adj.叛变的，反抗的；adv.反抗地，叛变地；n.反抗，叛变 | |
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57
idiocy
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| n.愚蠢 | |
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58
thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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59
admonished
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| v.劝告( admonish的过去式和过去分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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61
demonstration
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| n.表明，示范，论证，示威 | |
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demonstrations
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| 证明( demonstration的名词复数 )； 表明； 表达； 游行示威 | |
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63
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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hoarsely
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| adv.嘶哑地 | |
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humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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veracious
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| adj.诚实可靠的 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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awaken
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| vi.醒，觉醒；vt.唤醒，使觉醒，唤起，激起 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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darting
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的现在分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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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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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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unanimity
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| n.全体一致，一致同意 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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bellows
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| n.风箱；发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的名词复数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的第三人称单数 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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justifiable
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| adj.有理由的，无可非议的 | |
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83
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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84
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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85
fugitive
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| adj.逃亡的，易逝的；n.逃犯，逃亡者 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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conducive
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| adj.有益的，有助的 | |
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88
somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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89
conspiracy
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| n.阴谋，密谋，共谋 | |
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90
mortified
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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92
forsake
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| vt.遗弃，抛弃；舍弃，放弃 | |
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93
perch
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| n.栖木，高位，杆；v.栖息，就位，位于 | |
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extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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98
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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99
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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100
intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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101
permanently
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| adv.永恒地，永久地，固定不变地 | |
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102
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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103
ram
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| (random access memory)随机存取存储器 | |
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104
algebra
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| n.代数学 | |
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105
plumber
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| n.(装修水管的)管子工 | |
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