“It does one good to be out of doors such an evening as this,” said Albert. “It seems to me it would be better if father would get out in the open air more, instead of sitting cooped up over that stove all the while.”
“When a man’s been out in the open air, rain or shine, snow or blow, for fifty years, he ought to have earned the right to stay inside, if he wants to. | That’s about the only reward there is at the end of a farmer’s life,” answered Seth, turning the calfbucket upside down beside John, and sitting on it. Seth had his old clothes on once more, and perhaps there was some consciousness of the contrast between his apparel and that of his black-clad brethren in the truculent2 tone of his reply.
John had nodded at Albert on his approach, and thrust his feet a trifle further forward. He still stood silent, looking meditatively3 at the row of poplars on the other side of the road through rings of pipe smoke.
“So you don’t think much of farm work, eh?” said Albert.
“Who does?” replied Seth, sententiously.
A considerable period of silence ensued. Albert had never had a very high idea of his younger brothers’ conversational4 qualities, and had rarely known how to talk easily with them, but to-night it seemed a greater task than ever. He offered them cigars, in a propitiatory5 way. Seth accepted and lit one; John said “Thanks, I prefer a pipe,” and silence reigned6 again.
It was twilight7 now, and in the gathering8 dusk there was no sign of motion about, nor any sound save the tinkle9 of a sheep-bell in the pasture opposite.
John’s pipe burned out, and Albert pressed a cigar upon him again.
“I want you to try them,” he said, almost pleadingly, “I’m sure you’ll like them. They are a special brand the steward10 at the union League gets for me.”
This time John consented, and he seemed to feel that the act involved a responsibility to talk, for he said, with an effort at amiability11 as he struck a match:
“Your wife seems to be looking very well.”
“Yes, Isabel’s health is perfect, and it always benefits her to get out in the country. That’s a kind of Irishism isn’t it? I mean it makes her good health more obvious.”
“Good health is a great thing,” John answered.
The conversation was running emptings again, almost at the start. Albert made a heroic effort to strengthen it.
“Well, this is a regular quakers’ meeting,” he said, briskly. “We see each other so seldom, we are almost strangers when we do meet. I want to be frank with you, come now, and you should be frank with me. You have something on your minds, I can see. Isn’t it something I ought to know?”
Seth spoke12 again: “Perhaps on the evening of one’s mother’s funeral it isn’t to be expected that even brothers should feel chatty.”
The village journalist felt the injustice13 of this comment from the youngster.
“No, Seth,” he said, “Don’t snap Albert up in that fashion. I dare say he feels the thing, in his own way, as much as the rest of us. You are right, Albert; there is something, and I’ll tell you plainly what it is. Do you see those poplars over there? In the morning their shadows Come almost to our front door. Father planted them with his own hands. When I was a boy, I used to play over there, and climb up on to the bolls, and pretend I was to build houses there, like in Swiss Family Robinson. Well, that land passed out of our hands so long ago—it’s been an old story for years. Do you see the roof of the red school-house over back of the hill?” turning toward the South. “Or no, the light is too poor now, but you know where it is. When I used to cut ’cross lots to school there, I went the whole way over father’s land. Now, if I wanted to go there, how many people would I trespass14 on, Seth?”
“Ferguson owns the clover meadow, and Pratt has the timothy meadow, and what we used to call the berry patch belongs to Sile Thomas; he’s begun to build a house on it.”
“Precisely. Why even the fence close to where mother’s grave is, divides ours from another man’s land now.”
“Sabrina spoke to me about all this this afternoon,” said Albert hesitatingly, “and I tried, as I often have before, to make her understand that that must be the natural course of affairs, so long as the East tries to compete with the West in farming.”
“Well that may be all right, but Elhanan Pratt seems to manage to compete with the West, as you call it, and so do the Fergusons and all the rest of them. We are the only ones who appear to get left, every time. Of course, it’s somebody’s fault. Father’s been a poor manager, no use of denying that. But that doesn’t make it any the easier to bear. Father hardly knows which way to turn for ours from another man’s now. Money; he might have scraped through the year if hops16 had had a good season, but at nine cents a pound it was hardly worth while to take them to the depot17. You can’t clear expenses at less than eleven cents. And then if he does have a fairly decent year, his hop15-pickers are always the most drunken, idle gang of them all, who eat their heads off, and steal more fruit and chickens than they pick boxes, and if anybody’s hops are spoiled in the kiln18, you can bet on their being Fairchild’s, every time. And three years ago, it was the hop merchant who failed, just at the opportune19 moment, and let Father in for a whole years’ profit and labor20. Of course, it’s all bad luck, mismanagement, whatever you like to call it, and it can’t be helped, I suppose. But it makes a man sour, and it broke poor mother’s heart. And then here’s Seth.”
“Oh, never mind me, I can stand it, I guess, if the rest can. I’m not complaining” came from the figure on the bucket—only dimly to be seen now, in the shadow of the curb, and the increasing darkness.
“Here’s Seth,” continued John, without noting the disclaimer. “You and I had some advantages—of course, mine were not to be compared with yours, but still I was given a chance, such as it was and I don’t know that I would trade what I learned at work during college years for a college education—but this poor boy, who’s thought about him, who’s given him a chance to show what’s in him? He’s been allowed to come up as he could, almost like any farm laborer21. His mother tried to do her little, but what spirit did she have for it, and what time did the drudgery22 here give him? Thank God! He’s had the stuff in him to work at education himself, and he’s got the making of the best man of us three. But it’s no thanks to you. And that’s why we feel hard, Albert. Nobody supposes you could make a good farmer and manager out of father; nobody blames you for a bad hop season, or the dishonesty of Biggs. But I do say that of us three brothers there’s one who frets23 and worries over the thing, and though he’s a poor man, does all he can afford to do, and more too, to help make it better; and there’s another, young, ambitious, capable, whose nose is held down to the grindstone, and the best years of whose life are being miserably24 spent in a hopeless wrestling with debt and disaster; and there’s a third brother, the oldest brother, rich, easy, enjoying all the luxuries of life, who don’t give a damn about it all! That’s what I say, and if you don’t like it, you needn’t!”
The silence which ensued was of the kind that can be felt. The two cigars at the corners of the old curb glowed intermittently25 in the darkness. John’s had gone out during his speech, and as he re-lighted it, the glare of the match showed an excited, indignant face. There was no room for doubt, after the momentary26 exhibit which the red light made, that John was very much in earnest.
Albert was thinking laboriously27 on his answer. Meantime, he said, to fill the interval28 “Do you like the cigar?”
“Yes; a fifteen center, isn’t it?”
Albert had it in his mind to say truthfully that he paid $180 per thousand, but the fear of invidious comparisons rose before him in time, and he said “About that, I think.”
He waited a moment, still meditating29, and threw out another stop-gap: “It’s curious how the rhetorical habit grows on a man who writes leading articles. I noticed that you used three adjectives every time, the regular cumulative30 thing, you know.”
“Maybe so; it would be more to the purpose to hear what you think about the spirit of my oration31; the form doesn’t matter so much.”
“Well, I will tell you, John,” said Albert, slowly, still feeling his way, “to speak frankly32, no doubt there’s a good deal in what you say. I feel that there is. But you ought to consider that it isn’t easy for a man living in a great city, immersed in business cares, and engrossed33 in the labors34 of his profession, to realise all these things, and see them as you, who are here on the ground, see them. It’s hardly fair to attack me as heartless, when you present these facts to me for the first time.”
“For the first time! You ought to have seen them for yourself without presenting. And then you said Sabrina had often discussed the subject with you.”
“Oh, but her point of view is always family dignity, the keeping up of the Fairchilds’ homestead in baronial state, and that sort of thing. You should have heard her this afternoon, telling me how her fathers name used to be coupled with Dearborn County, just as Silas Wright’s was with Dutchess—either Dutchess or Delaware, I forget which she said—but it was very funny.”
“Sabrina and I haven’t spoken for I don’t know how long, and we’re not likely to again in a hurry, but for all that I’m bound to say I wish some others of the family had as much pride as she’s got,” said John. “Whatever else she may be, she’s as loyal and as faithful to the family idea, as jealous of the family’s name, as any old Spanish grandee35. And I confess the Silas Wright thing doesn’t seem funny to me at all—any fellow with the right kind of a heart in him would feel that it was deucedly pathetic—the poor old maid clinging through the shipwreck36 to that one spar of support—the recollection of a time when her father was bigger than his county. Such things oughtn’t to be laughed at.”
Albert lost his patience. “Confound it, man, do you want to force me into a quarrel—this night of all others! By George, was there ever such a brace37 of brothers! I come out here to get you by yourselves, to talk over with you some plans that have occurred to me for setting things right here—and I haven’t had a civil answer yet from either of you. First it’s the youngster who scowls38 and snarls39 at me, and then you read me lofty lectures on my behavior, and then both together in concerted condemnation40. No wonder I come rarely to the farm! It’s enough to sicken any man of family ties, to be bullyragged in this way. I’ve a good mind to tell you you can all go to the devil, and be hanged to you!”
The figure on the bucket rose to its feet with a spring, so energetically that there seemed a menace in the action. The village editor restrained this movement with a quiet hand, and a whispered “Keep cool, Seth.” Then he said with exaggerated calmness of voice:
“Personally, perhaps I shouldn’t mind much if you did. But there are others to look after, and so, before you do, it might be worth while to learn what the fine alternative was to have been. It would be a great pity to not even to hear these noble plans with which you were primed, you say, when you came out.”
“But you must admit, John, that you and Seth tonight have been enough to try the patience of a saint.”
“Oh, yes, we admit that. Go on!”
“Well, you’ve made it a little difficult for me to develop my plans—they were scarcely formed in my mind. In a general way, I wanted to consult you about freeing the farm, perhaps buying back some of the original land that has gone, putting the house in shape again, improving the stock, placing Father and Sabrina beyond the chance of ever being embarrassed again—and—and—doing something for Seth.”
“Nobody wants you—” began the impatient Seth.
“Youngster, you shut up!” said John, again using the quieting hand. “Do you really mean all this, Albert?”
“I should scarcely have spoken in detail as I have, otherwise,” answered the lawyer loftily.
“Well, this—” said John, “this takes a fellow’s breath away.”
“If you hadn’t been in such haste to impute41 bad motives42 and convict me without judge or jury, perhaps the effect of my plans might not have been so overpowering.”
“Yes, we did you an injustice, Albert, clearly we did. We were full of the idea that all these troubles rolled off you like water off a duck’s back. It seems that was our mistake. But—what’s your scheme?”
“Definitely, I have none, except to do all I can, in the way we may decide will be best all around. I have been thinking some of coming to live here myself, say from May to November of each year, and taking the farm into my own hands.”
“H’m—m! That might have its advantages, perhaps—but——”
“Oh, I know what you mean. If I do, everybody’s rights shall be respected. We’ll fix that beyond question, to your satisfaction, before a thing is done.”
“I don’t care about myself, particularly; you know that: but then there’s Seth, you know—we’ve always figured on the farm as his. It’s true he don’t want to be a farmer, that he hates the whole thing, but still that represents all his capital, so to speak, and—”
“My dear John, that shall all be arranged. I am a childless man—probably always shall be. As long as Father lives the farm shall remain in his name. Either his will can be in my favor, or I can manage the farm as a trustee for all three of us, after he’s gone. In either case, you shall both be protected in turn by my will—absolutely protected. Meantime, what do you want me to do for Seth? What does he want to do?”
“Nothing needs to be done for me,” began Seth, “I can—”
“Now, youngster, will you be quiet!” said John, in mock despair. “I’ll tell you what you can do for Seth, and do easily. Get him a place on some decent newspaper, in New York or one of the larger cities of the State, and let him have money enough to eke43 out a small salary at first, so that he can begin at editorial work instead of tramping up through the reporter’s treadmill44, as I had to. That’s all Seth’ll ask, and it will be the making of him.”
“Begin at editorial work—Seth? Nonsense!”
“No nonsense about it. For two years back Seth has been doing some of the best work on my paper—work that’s been copied all over the State.”
“Bless my soul, what a literary family we are!” said the lawyer. “Does Aunt Sabrina write, too? Perhaps those love poems you have on the last page are hers.”
John continued without noticing the interjection. “Do you remember that long article on Civil Service Reform we had in the Banner last January?”
“I don’t think I do, John. To be frank, although we enjoy having you send us the Banner immensely, occasionally it happens that the stress of professional duties compels me to miss reading a number.”
“Well that article was reprinted in all the big papers, from Boston to Chicago. I never knew any other thing from a little village paper to travel so far, or attract so much attention. I had lots of letters about it, too. That article was Seth’s—all his own. I didn’t change a word in it. And he’s hardly seen any thing of the world yet, either.”
The lawyer was heard chuckling45, when John’s voice died away in the darkness. The cigars had long since burned out, and the men could with difficulty see one another. The two younger brothers waited, the one surprised, the other increasingly indignant, to learn the cause of Albert’s hilarity46.
“Do you realise, John,” he said at last, with merriment still in his voice, “what a delightful47 commentary on Civil Service Reform your words make. The best article on that doctrine48 is written by a youngster who has never left the farm, who doesn’t know the difference between a Custom House and a letter-box on a lamp-post! Ho, ho, I must tell that to Chauncey when I see him.”
An hour later, John and Seth still leaned against the mossy curb, smoking and talking over the words of their elder brother, who sometime before had gone in to avoid the dew-fall.
“I wonder if we have misjudged him, after all,” said Seth. “I’m almost ashamed to accept his favors, after the way I pitched into him.”
“I wonder what his scheme really is,” mused49 the more experienced village editor.
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1
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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truculent
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| adj.野蛮的，粗野的 | |
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meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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propitiatory
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| adj.劝解的；抚慰的；谋求好感的；哄人息怒的 | |
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6
reigned
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| vi.当政，统治（reign的过去式形式） | |
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7
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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8
gathering
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| n.集会，聚会，聚集 | |
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tinkle
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| vi.叮当作响；n.叮当声 | |
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10
steward
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| n.乘务员，服务员；看管人；膳食管理员 | |
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amiability
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| n.和蔼可亲的，亲切的，友善的 | |
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12
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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13
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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14
trespass
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| n./v.侵犯，闯入私人领地 | |
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15
hop
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| n.单脚跳，跳跃；vi.单脚跳，跳跃；着手做某事；vt.跳跃，跃过 | |
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16
hops
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| 跳上[下]( hop的第三人称单数 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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18
kiln
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| n.（砖、石灰等）窑，炉；v.烧窑 | |
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opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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laborer
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| n.劳动者，劳工 | |
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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frets
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| 基质间片； 品丝（吉他等指板上定音的）( fret的名词复数 ) | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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intermittently
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| adv.间歇地；断断续续 | |
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momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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cumulative
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| adj.累积的，渐增的 | |
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oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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32
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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labors
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| v.努力争取(for)( labor的第三人称单数 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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grandee
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| n.贵族；大公 | |
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36
shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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37
brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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38
scowls
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| 不悦之色，怒容( scowl的名词复数 ) | |
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39
snarls
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| n.（动物的）龇牙低吼( snarl的名词复数 )；愤怒叫嚷（声）；咆哮（声）；疼痛叫声v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的第三人称单数 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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40
condemnation
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| n.谴责; 定罪 | |
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41
impute
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| v.归咎于 | |
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42
motives
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| n.动机，目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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43
eke
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| v.勉强度日，节约使用 | |
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44
treadmill
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| n.踏车；单调的工作 | |
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45
chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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46
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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47
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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48
doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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49
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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