“Is THAT your best suit?” said the girl.
“Yes, it is; and it's GOING to be for one while,” said the boy.
It was a suit of the cotton mixture that looks like wool when it is new, and cuts a figure on the counters of every dealer14 in cheap ready-made clothing. It had been Tim Powell's best attire15 for a year; perhaps he had not been careful enough of it, and that was why it no longer cared even to imitate wool; it was faded to the hue16 of a clay bank, it was threadbare, the trousers bagged at the knees, the jacket bagged at the elbows, the pockets bulged17 flabbily from sheer force of habit, although there was nothing in them.
“I thought you were to have a new suit,” said the girl. “Uncle told me himself he was going to buy you one yesterday when you went to town.”
“I wouldn't have asked him to buy me anything yesterday for more'n a suit of clothes.”
“Why?” The girl opened her eyes. “Didn't he do anything with the lawyer? Is that why you are both so glum18 this morning?”
“No, he didn't. The lawyer says the woman that owns the mortgage has got to have the money. And it's due next week.”
The girl grew pale all over her pretty rosy19 cheeks; her eyes filled with tears as she gasped20, “Oh, how hateful of her, when she promised——”
“She never promised nothing, Eve; it ain't been hers for more than three months. Sloan, that used to have it, died, and left his property to be divided up between his nieces; and the mortgage is her share. See?”
“I don't care, it's just as mean. Mr. Sloan promised.”
“No, he didn't; he jest said if Uncle was behind he wouldn't press him; and he did let Uncle get behind with the interest two times and never kicked. But he died; and now the woman, she wants her money!”
“I think it is mean and cruel of her to turn us out! Uncle says mortgages are wicked anyhow, and I believe him!”
“I guess he couldn't have bought this place if he didn't give a mortgage on it. And he'd have had enough to pay cash, too, if Richards hadn't begged him so to lend it to him.”
“When is Richards going to pay him?”
“It come due three months ago; Richards ain't never paid up the interest even, and now he says he's got to have the mortgage extended for three years; anyhow for two.”
“But don't he KNOW we've got to pay our own mortgage? How can we help HIM? I wish Uncle would sell him out!”
The boy gave her the superior smile of the masculine creature. “I suppose,” he remarked with elaborate irony22, “that he's like Uncle and you; he thinks mortgages are wicked.”
“And just as like as not Uncle won't want to go to the carnival23,” Eve went on, her eyes filling again.
Tim gazed at her, scowling and sneering24; but she was absorbed in dreams and hopes with which as yet his boyish mind had no point of contact.
“All the girls in the A class were going to go to see the fireworks together, and George Dean and some of the boys were going to take us, and we were going to have tea at May Arlington's house, and I was to stay all night;”—this came in a half sob25. “I think it is just too mean! I never have any good times!”
“Oh, yes, you do, sis, lots! Uncle always gits you everything you want. And he feels terrible bad when I—when he knows he can't afford to git something you want——”
“I know well enough who tells him we can't afford things!”
“Well, do you want us to git things we can't afford? I ain't never advised him except the best I knew how. I told him Richards was a blow-hard, and I told him those Alliance grocery folks he bought such a lot of truck of would skin him, and they did; those canned things they sold him was all musty, and they said there wasn't any freight on 'em, and he had to pay freight and a fancy price besides; and I don't believe they had any more to do with the Alliance than our cow!”
“Uncle always believes everything. He always is so sure things are going to turn out just splendid; and they don't—only just middling; and then he loses a lot of money.”
“But he is an awful good man,” said the boy, musingly26.
“I don't believe in being so good you can't make money. I don't want always to be poor and despised, and have the other girls have prettier clothes than me!”
“I guess you can be pretty good and yet make money, if you are sharp enough. Of course you got to be sharper to be good and make money than you got to be, to be mean and make money.”
“Well, I know one thing, that Uncle ain't EVER going to make money. He——” The last word shrivelled on her lips, which puckered27 into a confused smile at the warning frown of her brother. The man that they were discussing had come round to them past the henhouse. How much had he overheard?
He didn't seem angry, anyhow. He called: “Well, Evy, ready?” and Eve was glad to run into the house for her hat without looking at him. It was a relief that she must sit on the back seat where she need not face Uncle Nelson. Tim sat in front; but Tim was so stupid he wouldn't mind.
Nor did he; it was Nelson Forrest that stole furtive28 glances at the lad's profile, the knitted brows, the freckled29 cheeks, the undecided nose, and firm mouth.
The boyish shoulders slouched forward at the same angle as that of the fifty-year-old shoulders beside him. Nelson, through long following of the plough, had lost the erect30 carriage painfully acquired in the army. He was a handsome man, whose fresh-colored skin gave him a perpetual appearance of having just washed his face. The features were long and delicate. The brown eyes had a liquid softness like the eyes of a woman. In general the countenance31 was alertly intelligent; he looked younger than his years; but this afternoon the lines about his mouth and in his brows warranted every gray hair of his pointed32 short beard. There was a reason. Nelson was having one of those searing flashes of insight that do come occasionally to the most blindly hopeful souls. Nelson had hoped all his life. He hoped for himself, he hoped for the whole human race. He served the abstraction that he called “PROgress” with unflinching and unquestioning loyalty33. Every new scheme of increasing happiness by force found a helper, a fighter, and a giver in him; by turns he had been an Abolitionist, a Fourierist, a Socialist34, a Greenbacker, a Farmers' Alliance man. Disappointment always was followed hard on its heels by a brand-new confidence. Progress ruled his farm as well as his politics; he bought the newest implements35 and subscribed36 trustfully to four agricultural papers; but being a born lover of the ground, a vein37 of saving doubt did assert itself sometimes in his work; and, on the whole, as a farmer he was successful. But his success never ventured outside his farm gates. At buying or selling, at a bargain in any form, the fourteen-year-old Tim was better than Nelson with his fifty years' experience of a wicked and bargaining world.
Was that any part of the reason, he wondered to-day, why at the end of thirty years of unflinching toil38 and honesty, he found himself with a vast budget of experience in the ruinous loaning of money, with a mortgage on the farm of a friend, and a mortgage on his own farm likely to be foreclosed? Perhaps it might have been better to stay in Henry County. He had paid for his farm at last. He had known a good moment, too, that day he drove away from the lawyer's with the cancelled mortgage in his pocket and Tim hopping39 up and down on the seat for joy. But the next day Richards—just to give him the chance of a good thing—had brought out that Maine man who wanted to buy him out. He was anxious to put the money down for the new farm, to have no whip-lash of debt forever whistling about his ears as he ploughed, ready to sting did he stumble in the furrows40; and Tim was more anxious than he; but—there was Richards! Richards was a neighbor who thought as he did about Henry George and Spiritualism, and belonged to the Farmers' Alliance, and had lent Nelson all the works of Henry George that he (Richards) could borrow. Richards was in deep trouble. He had lost his wife; he might lose his farm. He appealed to Nelson, for the sake of old friendship, to save him. And Nelson could not resist; so, two thousand of the thirty-four hundred dollars that the Maine man paid went to Richards, the latter swearing by all that is holy, to pay his friend off in full at the end of the year. There was money coming to him from his dead wife's estate, but it was tied up in the courts. Nelson would not listen to Tim's prophecies of evil. But he was a little dashed when Richards paid neither interest nor principal at the year's end, although he gave reasons of weight; and he experienced veritable consternation41 when the renewed mortgage ran its course and still Richards could not pay. The money from his wife's estate had been used to improve his farm (Nelson knew how rundown everything was), his new wife was sickly and “didn't seem to take hold,” there had been a disastrous42 hail-storm—but why rehearse the calamities43? they focussed on one sentence: it was impossible to pay.
Then Nelson, who had been restfully counting on the money from Richards for his own debt, bestirred himself, only to find his patient creditor44 gone and a woman in his stead who must have her money. He wrote again—sorely against his will—begging Richards to raise the money somehow. Richards's answer was in his pocket, for he wore the best black broadcloth in which he had done honor to the lawyer, yesterday. Richards plainly was wounded; but he explained in detail to Nelson how he (Nelson) could borrow money of the banks on his farm and pay Miss Brown. There was no bank where Richards could borrow money; and he begged Nelson not to drive his wife and little children from their cherished home. Nelson choked over the pathos45 when he read the letter to Tim; but Tim only grunted46 a wish that HE had the handling of that feller. And the lawyer was as little moved as Tim. Miss Brown needed the money, he said. The banks were not disposed to lend just at present; money, it appeared, was “tight;” so, in the end, Nelson drove home with the face of Failure staring at him between his horses' ears.
There was only one way. Should he make Richards suffer or suffer himself? Did a man have to grind other people or be ground himself? Meanwhile they had reached the town. The stir of a festival was in the air. On every side bunting streamed in the breeze or was draped across brick or wood. Arches spanned some of the streets, with inscriptions47 of welcome on them, and swarms48 of colored lanterns glittered against the sunlight almost as gayly as they would show when they should be lighted at night. Little children ran about waving flags. Grocery wagons49 and butchers' wagons trotted50 by with a flash of flags dangling51 from the horses' harness. The streets were filled with people in their holiday clothes. Everybody smiled. The shopkeepers answered questions and went out on the sidewalks to direct strangers. From one window hung a banner inviting52 visitors to enter and get a list of hotels and boarding-houses. The crowd was entirely53 good-humored and waited outside restaurants, bandying jokes with true Western philosophy. At times the wagons made a temporary blockade in the street, but no one grumbled54. Bands of music paraded past them, the escort for visitors of especial consideration. In a window belonging, the sign above declared, to the Business Men's Association, stood a huge doll clad in blue satin, on which was painted a device of Neptune56 sailing down the Mississippi amid a storm of fireworks. The doll stood in a boat arched about with lantern-decked hoops58, and while Nelson halted, unable to proceed, he could hear the voluble explanation of the proud citizen who was interpreting to strangers.
This, Nelson thought, was success. Here were the successful men. The man who had failed looked at them. Eve roused him by a shrill59 cry, “There they are. There's May and the girls. Let me out quick, Uncle!”
He stopped the horse and jumped out himself to help her. It was the first time since she came under his roof that she had been away from it all night. He cleared his throat for some advice on behavior. “Mind and be respectful to Mrs. Arlington. Say yes, ma'am, and no, ma'am——” He got no further, for Eve gave him a hasty kiss and the crowd brushed her away.
“All she thinks of is wearing fine clothes and going with the fellers!” said her brother, disdainfully. “If I had to be born a girl, I wouldn't be born at all!”
“Maybe if you despise girls so, you'll be born a girl the next time,” said Nelson. “Some folks thinks that's how it happens with us.”
“Do YOU, Uncle?” asked Tim, running his mind forebodingly over the possible business results of such a belief. “S'posing he shouldn't be willing to sell the pigs to be killed, 'cause they might be some friends of his!” he reflected, with a rising tide of consternation. Nelson smiled rather sadly. He said, in another tone: “Tim, I've thought so many things, that now I've about given up thinking. All I can do is to live along the best way I know how and help the world move the best I'm able.”
“You bet I ain't going to help the world move,” said the boy; “I'm going to look out for myself!”
“Then my training of you has turned out pretty badly, if that's the way you feel.”
A little shiver passed over the lad's sullen60 face; he flushed until he lost his freckles61 in the red veil and burst out passionately62: “Well, I got eyes, ain't I? I ain't going to be bad, or drink, or steal, or do things to git put in the penitentiary63; but I ain't going to let folks walk all over me like you do; no, sir!”
Nelson did not answer; in his heart he thought that he had failed with the children, too; and he relapsed into that dismal64 study of the face of Failure.
He had come to the city to show Tim the sights, and, therefore, though like a man in a dream, he drove conscientiously65 about the gay streets, pointing out whatever he thought might interest the boy, and generally discovering that Tim had the new information by heart already. All the while a question pounded itself, like the beat of the heart of an engine, through the noise and the talk: “Shall I give up Richards or be turned out myself?”
When the afternoon sunlight waned66 he put up the horse at a modest little stable where farmers were allowed to bring their own provender67. The charges were of the smallest and the place neat and weather-tight, but it had been a long time before Nelson could be induced to use it, because there was a higher-priced stable kept by an ex-farmer and member of the Farmers' Alliance. Only the fact that the keeper of the low-priced stable was a poor orphan68 girl, struggling to earn an honest livelihood69, had moved him.
They had supper at a restaurant of Tim's discovery, small, specklessly tidy, and as unexacting of the pocket as the stable. It was an excellent supper. But Nelson had no appetite; in spite of an almost childish capacity for being diverted, he could attend to nothing but the question always in his ears: “Richards or me—which?”
Until it should be time for the spectacle they walked down the hill, and watched the crowds gradually blacken every inch of the river-banks. Already the swarms of lanterns were beginning to bloom out in the dusk. Strains of music throbbed70 through the air, adding a poignant71 touch to the excitement vibrating in all the faces and voices about them. Even the stolid72 Tim felt the contagion73. He walked with a jaunty74 step and assaulted a tune57 himself. “I tell you, Uncle,” says Tim, “it's nice of these folks to be getting up all this show, and giving it for nothing!”
“Do you think so?” says Nelson. “You don't love your book as I wish you did; but I guess you remember about the ancient Romans, and how the great, rich Romans used to spend enormous sums in games and shows that they let the people in free to—well, what for? Was it to learn them anything or to make them happy? Oh, no, it was to keep down the spirit of liberty, Son, it was to make them content to be slaves! And so it is here. These merchants and capitalists are only looking out for themselves, trying to keep labor21 down and not let it know how oppressed it is, trying to get people here from everywhere to show what a fine city they have and get their money.”
“Well, 'TIS a fine town,” Tim burst in, “a boss town! And they ain't gouging75 folks a little bit. None of the hotels or the restaurants have put up their prices one cent. Look what a dandy supper we got for twenty-five cents! And ain't the boy at Lumley's grocery given me two tickets to set on the steamboat? There's nothing mean about this town!”
Nelson made no remark; but he thought, for the fiftieth time, that his farm was too near the city. Tim was picking up all the city boys' false pride as well as their slang. Unconscious Tim resumed his tune. He knew that it was “Annie Rooney” if no one else did, and he mangled76 the notes with appropriate exhilaration.
Now, the river was as busy as the land, lights swimming hither and thither77; steamboats with ropes of tiny stars bespangling their dark bulk and a white electric glare in the bow, low boats with lights that sent wavering spear-heads into the shadow beneath. The bridge was a blazing barbed fence of fire, and beyond the bridge, at the point of the island, lay a glittering multitude of lights, a fairy fleet with miniature sails outlined in flame as if by jewels.
Nelson followed Tim. The crowds, the ceaseless clatter78 of tongues and jar of wheels, depressed79 the man, who hardly knew which way to dodge80 the multitudinous perils81 of the thoroughfare; but Tim used his elbows to such good purpose that they were out of the levee, on the steamboat, and settling themselves in two comfortable chairs in a coign of vantage on deck, that commanded the best obtainable view of the pageant82, before Nelson had gathered his wits together enough to plan a path out of the crush.
“I sized up this place from the shore,” Tim sighed complacently83, drawing a long breath of relief; “only jest two chairs, so we won't be crowded.”
Obediently, Nelson took his chair. His head sank on his thin chest. Richards or himself, which should he sacrifice? So the weary old question droned through his brain. He felt a tap on his shoulder. The man who roused him was an acquaintance, and he stood smiling in the attitude of a man about to ask a favor, while the expectant half-smile of the lady on his arm hinted at the nature of the favor. Would Mr. Forrest be so kind?—there seemed to be no more seats. Before Mr. Forrest could be kind Tim had yielded his own chair and was off, wriggling84 among the crowd in search of another place.
“Smart boy, that youngster of yours,” said the man; “he'll make his way in the world, he can push. Well, Miss Alma, let me make you acquainted with Mr. Forrest. I know you will be well entertained by him. So, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back and help my wife wrestle85 with the kids. They have been trying to see which will fall overboard first ever since we came on deck!”
Under the leeway of this pleasantry he bowed and retired86. Nelson turned with determined87 politeness to the lady. He was sorry that she had come, she looking to him a very fine lady indeed, with her black silk gown, her shining black ornaments88, and her bright black eyes. She was not young, but handsome in Nelson's judgment89, although of a haughty90 bearing. “Maybe she is the principal of the High School,” thought he. “Martin has her for a boarder, and he said she was very particular about her melons being cold!”
But however formidable a personage, the lady must be entertained.
“I expect you are a resident of the city, ma'am?” said Nelson.
“Yes, I was born here.” She smiled, a smile that revealed a little break in the curve of her cheek, not exactly a dimple, but like one.
“I don't know when I have seen such a fine appearing lady,” thought Nelson. He responded: “Well, I wasn't born here; but I come when I was a little shaver of ten and stayed till I was eighteen, when I went to Kansas to help fight the border ruffians. I went to school here in the Warren Street school-house.”
“So did I, as long as I went anywhere to school. I had to go to work when I was twelve.”
Nelson's amazement91 took shape before his courtesy had a chance to control it. “I didn't suppose you ever did any work in your life!” cried he.
“I guess I haven't done much else. Father died when I was twelve and the oldest of five, the next only eight—Polly, that came between Eb and me, died—naturally I had to work. I was a nurse-girl by the day, first; and I never shall forget how kind the woman was to me. She gave me so much dinner I never needed to eat any breakfast, which was a help.”
“You poor little thing! I'm afraid you went hungry sometimes.” Immediately he marvelled92 at his familiar speech, but she did not seem to resent it.
“No, not so often,” she said, musingly; “but I used often and often to wish I could carry some of the nice things home to mother and the babies. After a while she would give me a cookey or a piece of bread and butter for lunch; that I could take home. I don't suppose I'll often have more pleasure than I used to have then, seeing little Eb waiting for sister; and the baby and mother——” She stopped abruptly93, to continue, in an instant, with a kind of laugh; “I am never likely to feel so important again as I did then, either. It was great to have mother consulting me, as if I had been grown up. I felt like I had the weight of the nation on my shoulders, I assure you.”
“And have you always worked since? You are not working out now?” with a glance at her shining gown.
“Oh, no, not for a long time. I learned to be a cook. I was a good cook, too, if I say it myself. I worked for the Lossings for four years. I am not a bit ashamed of being a hired girl, for I was as good a one as I knew how. It was Mrs. Lossing that first lent me books; and Harry94 Lossing, who is head of the firm now, got Ebenezer into the works. Ebenezer is shipping-clerk with a good salary and stock in the concern; and Ralph is there, learning the trade. I went to the business-college and learned book-keeping, and afterward95 I learned typewriting and shorthand. I have been working for the firm for fourteen years. We have educated the girls. Milly is married, and Kitty goes to the boarding-school, here.”
“Then you haven't been married yourself?”
“What time did I have to think of being married? I had the family on my mind, and looking after them.”
“That was more fortunate for your family than it was for my sex,” said Nelson, gallantly96. He accompanied the compliment by a glance of admiration97, extinguished in an eye-flash, for the white radiance that had bathed the deck suddenly vanished.
“Now you will see a lovely sight,” said the woman, deigning98 no reply to his tribute; “listen! That is the signal.”
The air was shaken with the boom of cannon99. Once, twice, thrice. Directly the boat-whistles took up the roar, making a hideous100 din5. The fleet had moved. Spouting101 rockets and Roman candles, which painted above it a kaleidoscopic102 archway of fire, welcomed by answering javelins103 of light and red and orange and blue and green flares104 from the shore; the fleet bombarded the bridge, escorted Neptune in his car, manoeuvred and massed and charged on the blazing city with a many-hued shower of flame.
After the boats, silently, softly, floated the battalions105 of lanterns, so close to the water that they seemed flaming water-lilies, while the dusky mirror repeated and inverted106 their splendor107.
“They're shingles108, you know,” explained Nelson's companion, “with lanterns on them; but aren't they pretty?”
“Yes, they are! I wish you had not told me. It is like a fairy story!”
“Ain't it? But we aren't through; there's more to come. Beautiful fireworks!”
The fireworks, however, were slow of coming. They could see the barge109 from which they were to be sent; they could watch the movements of the men in white oil-cloth who moved in a ghostly fashion about the barge; they could hear the tap of hammers; but nothing came of it all.
They sat in the darkness, waiting; and there came to Nelson a strange sensation of being alone and apart from all the breathing world with this woman. He did not perceive that Tim had quietly returned with a box which did very well for a seat, and was sitting with his knees against the chair-rungs. He seemed to be somehow outside of all the tumult110 and the spectacle. It was the vainglorying triumph of this world. He was the soul outside, the soul that had missed its triumph. In his perplexity and loneliness he felt an overwhelming longing55 for sympathy; neither did it strike Nelson, who believed in all sorts of occult influences, that his confidence in a stranger was unwarranted. He would have told you that his “psychic instincts” never played him false, although really they were traitors111 from their astral cradles to their astral graves.
He said in a hesitating way: “You must excuse me being kinder dull; I've got some serious business on my mind and I can't help thinking of it.”
“Is that so? Well, I know how that is; I have often stayed awake nights worrying about things. Lest I shouldn't suit and all that—especially after mother took sick.”
“I s'pose you had to give up and nurse her then?”
“That was what Ebenezer and Ralph were for having me do; but mother—my mother always had so much sense—mother says, 'No, Alma, you've got a good place and a chance in life, you sha'n't give it up. We'll hire a girl. I ain't never lonesome except evenings, and then you will be home. I should jest want to die,' she says, 'if I thought I kept you in a kind of prison like by my being sick—now, just when you are getting on so well.' There never WAS a woman like my mother!” Her voice shook a little, and Nelson asked gently:
“Ain't your mother living now?”
“No, she died last year.” She added, after a little silence, “I somehow can't get used to being lonesome.”
“It IS hard,” said Nelson. “I lost my wife three years ago.”
“That's hard, too.”
“My goodness! I guess it is. And it's hardest when trouble comes on a man and he can't go nowhere for advice.”
“Yes, that's so, too. But—have you any children?”
“Yes, ma'am; that is, they ain't my own children. Lizzie and I never had any; but these two we took and they are most like my own. The girl is eighteen and the boy rising of fourteen.”
“They must be a comfort to you; but they are considerable of a responsibility, too.”
“Yes, ma'am,” he sighed softly to himself. “Sometimes I feel I haven't done the right way by them, though I've tried. Not that they ain't good children, for they are—no better anywhere. Tim, he will work from morning till night, and never need to urge him; and he never gives me a promise he don't keep it, no ma'am, never did since he was a little mite112 of a lad. And he is a kind boy, too, always good to the beasts; and while he may speak up a little short to his sister, he saves her many a step. He doesn't take to his studies quite as I would like to have him, but he has a wonderful head for business. There is splendid stuff in Tim if it could only be worked right.”
While Nelson spoke113, Tim was hunching114 his shoulders forward in the darkness, listening with the whole of two sharp ears. His face worked in spite of him, and he gave an inarticulate snort.
“Well,” the woman said, “I think that speaks well for Tim. Why should you be worried about him?”
“I am afraid he is getting to love money and worldly success too well, and that is what I fear for the girl, too. You see, she is so pretty, and the idols115 of the tribe and the market, as Bacon calls them, are strong with the young.”
“Yes, that's so,” the woman assented116 vaguely117, not at all sure what either Bacon or his idols might be. “Are the children relations of yours?”
“No, ma'am; it was like this: When I was up in Henry County there came a photographic artist to the village near us, and pitched his tent and took tintypes in his wagon. He had his wife and his two children with him. The poor woman fell ill and died; so we took the two children. My wife was willing; she was a wonderfully good woman, member of the Methodist church till she died. I—I am not a church member myself, ma'am; I passed through that stage of spiritual development a long while ago.” He gave a wistful glance at his companion's dimly outlined profile. “But I never tried to disturb her faith; it made HER happy.”
“Oh, I don't think it is any good fooling with other people's religions,” said the woman, easily. “It is just like trying to talk folks out of drinking; nobody knows what is right for anybody else's soul any more than they do what is good for anybody else's stomach!”
“Yes, ma'am. You put things very clearly.”
“I guess it is because you understand so quickly. But you were saying———”
“That's all the story. We took the children, and their father was killed by the cars the next year, poor man; and so we have done the best we could ever since by them.”
“I should say you had done very well by them.”
“No, ma'am; I haven't done very well somehow by anyone, myself included, though God knows I've tried hard enough!”
Then followed the silence natural after such a confession118 when the listener does not know the speaker well enough to parry abasement119 by denial.
“I am impressed,” said Nelson, simply, “to talk with you frankly120. It isn't polite to bother strangers with your troubles, but I am impressed that you won't mind.”
“Oh, no, I won't mind.”
It was not extravagant121 sympathy; but Nelson thought how kind her voice sounded, and what a musical voice it was. Most people would have called it rather sharp.
He told her—with surprisingly little egotism, as the keen listener noted—the story of his life; the struggle of his boyhood; his random122 self-education; his years in the army (he had criticised his superior officers, thereby123 losing the promotion124 that was coming for bravery in the field); his marriage (apparently he had married his wife because another man had jilted her); his wrestle with nature (whose pranks125 included a cyclone) on a frontier farm that he eventually lost, having put all his savings126 into a “Greenback” newspaper, and being thus swamped with debt; his final slow success in paying for his Iowa farm; and his purchase of the new farm, with its resulting disaster. “I've farmed in Kansas,” he said, “in Nebraska, in Dakota, in Iowa. I was willing to go wherever the land promised. It always seemed like I was going to succeed, but somehow I never did. The world ain't fixed127 right for the workers, I take it. A man who has spent thirty years in hard, honest toil oughtn't to be staring ruin in the face like I am to-day. They won't let it be so when we have the single tax and when we farmers send our own men instead of city lawyers, to the Legislature and halls of Congress. Sometimes I think it's the world that's wrong and sometimes I think it's me!”
The reply came in crisp and assured accents, which were the strongest contrast to Nelson's soft, undecided pipe: “Seems to me in this last case the one most to blame is neither you nor the world at large, but this man Richards, who is asking YOU to pay for HIS farm. And I notice you don't seem to consider your creditor in this business. How do you know she don't need the money? Look at me, for instance; I'm in some financial difficulty myself. I have a mortgage for two thousand dollars, and that mortgage—for which good value was given, mind you—falls due this month. I want the money. I want it bad. I have a chance to put my money into stock at the factory. I know all about the investment; I haven't worked there all these years and not know how the business stands. It is a chance to make a fortune. I ain't likely to ever have another like it; and it won't wait for me to make up my mind forever, either. Isn't it hard on me, too?”
“Lord knows it is, ma'am,” said Nelson, despondently128; “it is hard on us all! Sometimes I don't see the end of it all. A vast social revolution——”
“Social fiddlesticks! I beg your pardon, Mr. Forrest, but it puts me out of patience to have people expecting to be allowed to make every mortal kind of fools of themselves and then have 'a social revolution' jump in to slue off the consequences. Let us understand each other. Who do you suppose I am?”
“Miss—Miss Almer, ain't it?”
“It's Alma Brown, Mr. Forrest. I saw you coming on the boat and I made Mr. Martin fetch me over to you. I told him not to say my name, because I wanted a good plain talk with you. Well, I've had it. Things are just about where I thought they were, and I told Mr. Lossing so. But I couldn't be sure. You must have thought me a funny kind of woman to be telling you all those things about myself.”
Nelson, who had changed color half a dozen times in the darkness, sighed before he said: “No, ma'am; I only thought how good you were to tell me. I hoped maybe you were impressed to trust me as I was to trust you.”
Being so dark Nelson could not see the queer expression on her face as she slowly shook her head. She was thinking: “If I ever saw a babe in arms trying to do business! How did HE ever pay for a farm?” She said: “Well, I did it on purpose; I wanted you to know I wasn't a cruel aristocrat129, but a woman that had worked as hard as yourself. Now, why shouldn't you help me and yourself instead of helping130 Richards? You have confidence in me, you say. Well, show it. I'll give you your mortgage for your mortgage on Richards's farm. Come, can't you trust Richards to me? You think it over.”
The hiss131 of a rocket hurled132 her words into space. The fireworks had begun. Miss Brown looked at them and watched Nelson at the same time. As a good business woman who was also a good citizen, having subscribed five dollars to the carnival, she did not propose to lose the worth of her money; neither did she intend to lose a chance to do business. Perhaps there was an obscurer and more complex motive133 lurking134 in some stray corner of that queer garret, a woman's mind. Such motives—aimless softenings of the heart, unprofitable diversions of the fancy—will seep135 unconsciously through the toughest business principles of woman.
She was puzzled by the look of exaltation on Nelson's features, illumined as they were by the uncanny light. If the fool man had not forgotten all his troubles just to see a few fireworks! No, he was not that kind of a fool; maybe—and she almost laughed aloud in her pleasure over her own insight—maybe it all made him think of the war, where he had been so brave. “He was a regular hero in the war,” Miss Brown concluded, “and he certainly is a perfect gentleman; what a pity he hasn't got any sense!”
She had guessed aright, although she had not guessed deep enough in regard to Nelson. He watched the great wheels of light, he watched the river aflame with Greek fire, then, with a shiver, he watched the bombs bursting into myriads136 of flowers, into fizzing snakes, into fields of burning gold, into showers of jewels that made the night splendid for a second and faded. They were not fireworks to him; they were a magical phantasmagoria that renewed the incoherent and violent emotions of his youth; again he was in the chaos137 of the battle, or he was dreaming by his camp-fire, or he was pacing his lonely round on guard. His heart leaped again with the old glow, the wonderful, beautiful worship of Liberty that can do no wrong. He seemed to hear a thousand voices chanting:
“In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free!”
His turbid138 musings cleared—or they seemed to him to clear—under the strong reaction of his imagination and his memories. It was all over, the dream and the glory thereof. The splendid young soldier was an elderly, ruined man. But one thing was left: he could be true to his flag.
“A poor soldier, but enlisted139 for the war,” says Nelson, squaring his shoulders, with a lump in his throat and his eyes brimming. “I know by the way it hurts me to think of refusing her that it's a temptation to wrong-doing. No, I can't save myself by sacrificing a brother soldier for humanity. She is just as kind as she can be, but women don't understand business; she wouldn't make allowance for Richards.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder; it was Martin apologizing for hurrying Miss Brown; but the baby was fretting140 and——
“I'm sorry—yes—well, I wish you didn't have to go!” Nelson began; but a hoarse141 treble rose from under his elbows: “Say, Mr. Martin, Uncle and me can take Miss Brown home.”
“If you will allow me the pleasure,” said Nelson, with the touch of courtliness that showed through his homespun ways.
“Well, I WOULD like to see the hundred bombs bursting at once and Vulcan at his forge!” said Miss Brown.
Thus the matter arranged itself. Tim waited with the lady while Nelson went for the horse, nor was it until afterward that Miss Brown wondered why the lad did not go instead of the man. But Tim had his own reasons. No sooner was Nelson out of earshot than he began: “Say, Miss Brown, I can tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“That Richards is no good; but you can't get Uncle to see it. At least it will take time. If you'll help me we can get him round in time. Won't you please not sell us out for six months and give me a show? I'll see you get your interest and your money, too.”
“You?” Miss Brown involuntarily took a business attitude, with her arms akimbo, and eyed the boy.
“Yes, ma'am, me. I ain't so very old, but I know all about the business. I got all the figures down—how much we raise and what we got last year. I can fetch them to you so you can see. He is a good farmer, and he will catch on to the melons pretty quick. We'll do better next year, and I'll try to keep him from belonging to things and spending money; and if he won't lend to anybody or start in raising a new kind of crop just when we get the melons going, he will make money sure. He is awful good and honest. All the trouble with him is he needs somebody to take care of him. If Aunt Lizzie had been alive he never would have lent that dead-beat Richards that money. He ought to get married.”
Miss Brown did not feel called on to say anything. Tim continued in a judicial142 way: “He is awful good and kind, always gets up in the morning to make the fire if I have got something else to do; and he'd think everything his wife did was the best in the world; and if he had somebody to take care of him he'd make money. I don't suppose YOU would think of it?” This last in an insinuating143 tone, with evident anxiety.
“Well, I never!” said Miss Brown.
Whether she was more offended or amused she couldn't tell; and she stood staring at him by the electric light. To her amazement the hard little face began to twitch144. “I didn't mean to mad you,” Tim grunted, with a quiver in his rough voice. “I've been listening to every word you said, and I thought you were so sensible you'd talk over things without nonsense. Of course I knew he'd have to come and see you Saturday nights, and take you buggy riding, and take you to the theatre, and all such things—first. But I thought we could sorter fix it up between ourselves. I've taken care of him ever since Aunt Lizzie died, and I did my best he shouldn't lend that money, but I couldn't help it; and I did keep him from marrying a widow woman with eight children, who kept telling him how much her poor fatherless children needed a man; and I never did see anybody I was willing—before—and it's—it's so lonesome without Aunt Lizzie!” He choked and frowned. Poor Tim, who had sold so many melons to women and seen so much of back doors and kitchen humors that he held the sex very cheap, he did not realize how hard he would find it to talk of the one woman who had been kind to him! He turned red with shame over his own weakness.
“You poor little chap!” cried Miss Brown; “you poor little sharp, innocent chap!” The hand she laid on his shoulder patted it as she went on: “Never mind, if I can't marry your uncle, I can help you take care of him. You're a real nice boy, and I'm not mad; don't you think it. There's your uncle now.”
Nelson found her so gentle that he began to have qualms145 lest his carefully prepared speech should hurt her feelings. But there was no help for it now. “I have thought over your kind offer to me, ma'am,” said he, humbly146, “and I got a proposition to make to you. It is your honest due to have your farm, yes, ma'am. Well, I know a man would like to buy it; I'll sell it to him, and pay you your money.”
“But that wasn't my proposal.”
“I know it, ma'am. I honor you for your kindness; but I can't risk what—what might be another person's idea of duty about Richards. Our consciences ain't all equally enlightened, you know.”
Miss Brown did not answer a word.
They drove along the streets where the lanterns were fading. Tim grew uneasy, she was silent so long. On the brow of the hill she indicated a side street and told them to stop the horse before a little brown house. One of the windows was a dim square of red.
“It isn't quite so lonesome coming home to a light,” said Miss Brown.
As Nelson cramped147 the wheel to jump out to help her from the vehicle, the light from the electric arc fell full on his handsome face and showed her the look of compassion148 and admiration, there.
“Wait one moment,” she said, detaining him with one firm hand. “I've got something to say to you. Let Richards go for the present; all I ask of you about him is that you will do nothing until we can find out if he is so bad off. But, Mr. Forrest, I can do better for you about that mortgage. Mr. Lossing will take it for three years for a relative of his and pay me the money. I told him the story.”
“And YOU will get the money all right?”
“Just the same. I was only trying to help you a little by the other way, and I failed. Never mind.”
“I can't tell you how you make me feel,” said Nelson.
“Please let him bring you some melons to-morrow and make a stagger at it, though,” said Tim.
“Can I?” Nelson's eyes shone.
“If you want to,” said Miss Brown. She laughed; but in a moment she smiled.
All the way home Nelson saw the same face of Failure between the old mare's white ears; but its grim lineaments were softened149 by a smile, a smile like Miss Brown's.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
vividly
|
|
| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
wayfarer
|
|
| n.旅人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
arsenal
|
|
| n.兵工厂，军械库 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
din
|
|
| n.喧闹声，嘈杂声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
sagged
|
|
| 下垂的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
dinginess
|
|
| n.暗淡，肮脏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
sleek
|
|
| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
drooped
|
|
| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
wagon
|
|
| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
tints
|
|
| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
scowling
|
|
| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
dealer
|
|
| n.商人，贩子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
attire
|
|
| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
hue
|
|
| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
bulged
|
|
| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
glum
|
|
| adj.闷闷不乐的，阴郁的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
rosy
|
|
| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
gasped
|
|
| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
labor
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
irony
|
|
| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
carnival
|
|
| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
sneering
|
|
| 嘲笑的，轻蔑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
sob
|
|
| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
musingly
|
|
| adv.沉思地，冥想地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
|
27
puckered
|
|
| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
furtive
|
|
| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
freckled
|
|
| adj.雀斑；斑点；晒斑；（使）生雀斑v.雀斑，斑点( freckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
erect
|
|
| n./v.树立，建立，使竖立；adj.直立的，垂直的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
countenance
|
|
| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
pointed
|
|
| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
loyalty
|
|
| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
socialist
|
|
| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
implements
|
|
| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
subscribed
|
|
| v.捐助( subscribe的过去式和过去分词 )；签署，题词；订阅；同意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
vein
|
|
| n.血管，静脉；叶脉，纹理；情绪；vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
toil
|
|
| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
hopping
|
|
| n. 跳跃 动词hop的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
furrows
|
|
| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
consternation
|
|
| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
disastrous
|
|
| adj.灾难性的，造成灾害的；极坏的，很糟的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
calamities
|
|
| n.灾祸，灾难( calamity的名词复数 )；不幸之事 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
creditor
|
|
| n.债仅人，债主，贷方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
pathos
|
|
| n.哀婉，悲怆 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
grunted
|
|
| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
inscriptions
|
|
| （作者）题词( inscription的名词复数 )； 献词； 碑文； 证劵持有人的登记 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
swarms
|
|
| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
wagons
|
|
| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
trotted
|
|
| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
dangling
|
|
| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
inviting
|
|
| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
entirely
|
|
| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
grumbled
|
|
| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
longing
|
|
| n.（for）渴望 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
Neptune
|
|
| n.海王星 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
tune
|
|
| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
hoops
|
|
| n.箍( hoop的名词复数 )；（篮球）篮圈；（旧时儿童玩的）大环子；（两端埋在地里的）小铁弓 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
shrill
|
|
| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
sullen
|
|
| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
freckles
|
|
| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
passionately
|
|
| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
penitentiary
|
|
| n.感化院；监狱 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
dismal
|
|
| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
conscientiously
|
|
| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
waned
|
|
| v.衰落( wane的过去式和过去分词 )；（月）亏；变小；变暗淡 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
provender
|
|
| n.刍草；秣料 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
orphan
|
|
| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
livelihood
|
|
| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
throbbed
|
|
| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
poignant
|
|
| adj.令人痛苦的，辛酸的，惨痛的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
stolid
|
|
| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
contagion
|
|
| n.(通过接触的疾病)传染；蔓延 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
jaunty
|
|
| adj．愉快的，满足的；adv.心满意足地，洋洋得意地；n.心满意足；洋洋得意 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
gouging
|
|
| n.刨削[槽]v.凿( gouge的现在分词 )；乱要价；（在…中）抠出…；挖出… | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
mangled
|
|
| vt.乱砍（mangle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
thither
|
|
| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
clatter
|
|
| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
depressed
|
|
| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
dodge
|
|
| v.闪开，躲开，避开；n.妙计，诡计 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
perils
|
|
| 极大危险( peril的名词复数 )； 危险的事（或环境） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
pageant
|
|
| n.壮观的游行；露天历史剧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
complacently
|
|
| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
wriggling
|
|
| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
wrestle
|
|
| vi.摔跤，角力；搏斗；全力对付 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
retired
|
|
| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
determined
|
|
| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
judgment
|
|
| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
haughty
|
|
| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
amazement
|
|
| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
marvelled
|
|
| v.惊奇，对…感到惊奇( marvel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
abruptly
|
|
| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
harry
|
|
| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
afterward
|
|
| adv.后来；以后 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
gallantly
|
|
| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
97
admiration
|
|
| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
98
deigning
|
|
| v.屈尊，俯就( deign的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
99
cannon
|
|
| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
100
hideous
|
|
| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
101
spouting
|
|
| n.水落管系统v.（指液体）喷出( spout的现在分词 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
102
kaleidoscopic
|
|
| adj.千变万化的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
103
javelins
|
|
| n.标枪( javelin的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
104
flares
|
|
| n.喇叭裤v.（使）闪耀( flare的第三人称单数 )；（使）（船舷）外倾；（使）鼻孔张大；（使）（衣裙、酒杯等）呈喇叭形展开 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
105
battalions
|
|
| n.（陆军的）一营（大约有一千兵士）( battalion的名词复数 )；协同作战的部队；军队；（组织在一起工作的）队伍 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
106
inverted
|
|
| adj.反向的，倒转的v.使倒置，使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
107
splendor
|
|
| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
108
shingles
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
109
barge
|
|
| n.平底载货船，驳船 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
110
tumult
|
|
| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
111
traitors
|
|
| 卖国贼( traitor的名词复数 )； 叛徒； 背叛者； 背信弃义的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
112
mite
|
|
| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
113
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
114
hunching
|
|
| 隆起（hunch的现在分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
115
idols
|
|
| 偶像( idol的名词复数 )； 受崇拜的人或物； 受到热爱和崇拜的人或物； 神像 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
116
assented
|
|
| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
117
vaguely
|
|
| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
118
confession
|
|
| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
119
abasement
|
|
| n.滥用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
120
frankly
|
|
| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
121
extravagant
|
|
| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
122
random
|
|
| adj.随机的；任意的；n.偶然的(或随便的)行动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
123
thereby
|
|
| adv.因此，从而 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
124
promotion
|
|
| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
125
pranks
|
|
| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
126
savings
|
|
| n.存款，储蓄 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
127
fixed
|
|
| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
128
despondently
|
|
| adv.沮丧地，意志消沉地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
129
aristocrat
|
|
| n.贵族，有贵族气派的人，上层人物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
130
helping
|
|
| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
131
hiss
|
|
| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
132
hurled
|
|
| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
133
motive
|
|
| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
134
lurking
|
|
| 潜在 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
135
seep
|
|
| v.渗出，渗漏；n.渗漏，小泉，水（油）坑 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
136
myriads
|
|
| n.无数，极大数量( myriad的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
137
chaos
|
|
| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
138
turbid
|
|
| adj.混浊的，泥水的，浓的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
139
enlisted
|
|
| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
140
fretting
|
|
| n. 微振磨损 adj. 烦躁的, 焦虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
141
hoarse
|
|
| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
142
judicial
|
|
| adj.司法的，法庭的，审判的，明断的，公正的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
143
insinuating
|
|
| adj.曲意巴结的，暗示的v.暗示( insinuate的现在分词 )；巧妙或迂回地潜入；（使）缓慢进入；慢慢伸入 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
144
twitch
|
|
| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
145
qualms
|
|
| n.不安；内疚 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
146
humbly
|
|
| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
147
cramped
|
|
| a.狭窄的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
148
compassion
|
|
| n.同情，怜悯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
149
softened
|
|
| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |