"Did you go to see your old woman yesterday?" Mr. Randolph said.
"Yes, papa."
"Did you enjoy your visit?"
"Very much, papa."
Mrs. Randolph's head made a motion of impatience1, which however those two did not see.
"How was that, Daisy? I do not comprehend in this instance the sources of pleasure."
"Papa"—said Daisy hesitating—"I think I gave pleasure."
She could not explain to him much more, but Mr. Randolph at least understood that. He gave Daisy another kiss, which was not disapproving2, the child felt. So her breakfast was extremely happy.
She had a new plan in her head now about Molly. She wanted to get established on the footing of a friend in that poor little house; and she thought she had better perhaps not confine her line of advance to the garden. After breakfast she sought the housekeeper's room, and let Joanna know that she was in want of a nice little cake of some sort to carry to a poor creature who could make nor buy none. Daisy was a great favourite with Miss Underwood, especially ever since the night when she had been summoned in her night dress to tell the child about the words of the minister that day. Joanna never said "no" to Daisy if it was possible to say "yes;" nor considered anything a trouble that Daisy required. On this occasion, she promised that exactly what Daisy wanted should be in readiness by the afternoon; and having thus secured her arrangements Daisy went with a perfectly3 light heart to see what the morning was to bring forth4.
"Daisy!" shouted Preston as she was going down the piazza5 steps,—"Daisy! where are you bound?"
"Out—" said Daisy, who was vaguely6 seeking the September sunshine.
"Well, 'out' is as good as anywhere. Wait till I get my hat. Come,
Daisy!—we have business on hand."
"What business?" said Daisy, as she was led along through the trees.
"Great business," said Preston,—"only I shall want help, Daisy—I want a great deal of help. I cannot manage it alone. Wait till we get to a real good place for a talk.—Here, this will do. Now sit down."
"How pretty it is to-day!" said Daisy.
For indeed the river opposite them looked a bright sheet of glass; and the hills were blue in the morning light, and the sunshine everywhere was delightsome. The beautiful trees of Melbourne waved overhead; American elms hung their branches towards the ground; lindens stood in masses of luxuriance; oaks and chestnuts7 spotted8 the rolling ground with their round heads; and English elms stood up great towers of green. The September sun on all this and on the well kept greensward; no wonder Daisy said it was pretty. But Preston was too full of his business.
"Now, Daisy, we have got a great deal to do!"
"Have we?" said Daisy.
"It is this. Aunt Felicia has determined9 that she will give a party in two or three weeks."
"A party! But I never have anything to do with parties—mamma's parties—Preston."
"No. But with this one I think you have."
"How can I?" said Daisy. She was very pleasantly unconcerned as yet, and only enjoying the morning and Preston and the trees and the sunshine.
"Why, little Daisy, I have got to furnish part of the entertainment; and
I can't do it without you."
Daisy looked now.
"Aunt Felicia wants me to get up some tableaux11."
"Some what?" said Daisy.
"Tableaux. Tableaux vivants. Pictures, Daisy; made with living people."
"What do you mean, Preston?"
"Why we will choose some pictures, some of the prettiest pictures we can find; and then we will dress up people to represent all the figures, and place them just as the figures are grouped in the engraving12; and then they look like a most beautiful large painted picture."
"But pictures do not move?"
"No more do the people. They hold still and do not stir, any more than if they were not real."
"I should think they would look like people though, and not like a picture," said Daisy. "No matter how still you were to keep, I should never fancy you were painted."
"No," said Preston laughing; "but you do not understand. The room where the spectators are is darkened, and the lights for the picture are all set on one side, just as the light comes in the picture; and then it all looks just right. And the picture is seen behind a frame too, of the folding doors or something."
Daisy sat looking at Preston, a little curious but not at all excited.
"So I shall want your help, Daisy."
"About what?"
"First, to choose what pictures we will have. We must look over all the books of engravings in the house, and see what would do. Shall we go at it?"
Daisy consented. They repaired to the library and took position by a large portfolio13 of engravings.
"'Fortitude14'! Capital!" cried Preston as he turned over the first sheet in the portfolio. "Capital, Daisy! That's for you. You would make an excellent 'Fortitude.'"
"I!—" said Daisy.
"Capital—couldn't be better. This is Sir Joshua Reynolds' 'Fortitude'—and you will do for it wonderfully well. You have half the look of it now. Only you must be a little more stern."
"Why must Fortitude look stern?" said Daisy.
"O, because she has hard work to do, I suppose."
"What is Fortitude, Preston?"
"O Daisy, Daisy! are you going through life like that? Why you'll turn all your play into work."
"Why?—But what is it?"
"Fortitude? Why it is, let me see,—it is the power of endurance."
"The power of bearing pain, Daisy," said Mr. Randolph, who was walking through the room.
"I do not think Fortitude ought to look stern."
"The old gentleman thought so. I suppose he knew. You must, anyhow,—like the picture."
"But Preston, how could I look like that? My dresses are not made so."
"I hope not!" said Preston laughing. "But Daisy, we'll get some of aunt
Felicia's riggings and feathers and set you out in style."
"But you can't put feathers on my head like those," said Daisy. "They wouldn't stay on. And I don't see why Fortitude should be dressed in feathers."
"Why it is the crest15 of her helmet, Daisy! Fortitude must have something strong about her, somewhere, and I suppose her head is as good a place as any. We'll make a helmet for you. And I will make Dolce lie down at your feet for the lion."
"You couldn't, Preston."
"I could make him do anything." Dolce was Preston's dog; a great shaggy
St. Bernard.
"Well!—" said Daisy with a half sigh.
"I think you'll make a beautiful Fortitude. Now let us see what next.
That is for one."
"How many pictures do you want?" said Daisy.
"O a good many. Plenty, or it wouldn't be worth taking all the trouble, and shutting the people up in a dark room. 'Alfred in the neat-herd's cottage'—getting a scolding for his burnt cakes. How splendid that would be if we could get Dr. Sandford to be Alfred!"
"Who would be that scolding old woman?"
"No matter, because we can't get Dr. Sandford. We are not to have grown folks at all. It is a pity Ransom16 is not here. We shall have to get Alexander Fish—or Hamilton! Hamilton will do. He's a good looking fellow."
"You would do a great deal better," said Daisy. "And Alexander would not do at all. He has not a bit the look of a king about him."
"I must be that old man with the bundle of sticks on his head," said
Preston, who was however immensely flattered.
"But his beard?" said Daisy.
"O I'll put that on. A false beard is easy. You won't know me, Daisy. That will be an excellent picture. See that girl blowing the burnt cakes and making her face into a full moon!"
"Will you have her in the picture?"
"Certainly! Most assuredly."
"But, who will you get to do that, Preston?"
"Nora Dinwiddie, I reckon."
"Will she come?"
"We shall want all we can get. All Mrs. Stanfield's young ones, and Mrs. Fish's and Linwood's and everybody. Now Daisy, here you are! This is the very thing."
"For what?" said Daisy.
"Don't you see? For you. This is Queen Esther before Ahasuerus—you know the story?"
"O yes!—when he stretched out the golden sceptre to her. She is fainting, isn't she?"
"Exactly. You can do that glorious, because you have always a pair of pale cheeks on hand."
"I?"—said Daisy again. "Do you want me to be two things?"
"A dozen things, perhaps. You must be Queen Esther at any rate. Nobody but you."
"And who will be Ahasuerus?"
"I don't know. Hamilton Rush, I reckon; he's a nice fellow."
"O Preston, why don't you be Ahasuerus?"
"I am manager, you know, Daisy; it won't do for the manager to take the best pieces for himself. Ahasuerus is one of the best. See how handsome the dress is—and the attitude, and everything."
"I don't see where you will find the dresses," said Daisy. "All those are robes of silk and velvet17 and fur; and then the jewels, Preston!"
"Nonsense, Daisy. Aunt Felicia will let us take all her stores of satins and velvets and feathers and jewellery too. It won't hurt them to be looked at."
"I think," said Daisy slowly,—"I think I will not be Queen Esther."
"Why not? don't you like her looks?"
"O yes. That's no matter; but I would rather somebody else would be it."
"Why, little Daisy? You are the one; nobody can be Esther but you."
"I think I will not," said Daisy thoughtfully.
"What's the matter, Daisy? You must. I want you for Esther and nobody else. What is the objection?"
"I would rather not," said Daisy. "I don't know Hamilton Rush much."
This was said with extreme demureness18, and Preston bit his lips almost till the blood came to prevent the smile which would have startled Daisy.
"You won't know him at all when he is dressed and with his crown on. It's all a play. You can imagine he is the real old Persian king, who looked so fiercely on the beautiful Jewess when she ventured unsummoned into his presence."
"I could not stand like that," said Daisy.
"Yes, you could. That's easy. You are fainting in the arms of your attendants."
"Who will the attendants be?"
"I don't know. Who do you think?"
"I think I would rather not be in this picture,—" said Daisy.
"Yes, you will. I want you. It is too good to be given to somebody else.
It is one of the prettiest pictures we shall have, I reckon."
"Then you must be the king."
"Well—we will see," said Preston. "What comes next? 'Canute and his courtiers.' That won't do, because we could not have the sea in."
"Nor the horse," said Daisy.
"Not very well.—What a stupid collection of portraits! Nothing but portraits."—
"There are fortune tellers19."
"That won't do—not interest enough. There! here's one. 'Little Red
Riding-hood.' That will be beautiful for you, Daisy."
"But Preston, I mustn't be everything."
"Plenty more things coming. You don't like Red Riding-hood? Then we will give it to Nora or Ella."
"O like it," said Daisy. "I like it much better than Esther—unless you will play Ahasuerus."
"Well I will put you down for both of 'em."
"But who's to be anything else?"
"Lots. Here.—Splendid! 'Marie Antoinette' going from the revolutionary tribunal—that will be capital."
"Who will take that?" said Daisy.
"Let me see. I think—I think, Daisy, it must be Theresa Stanfield. She is a clever girl, and it must be a clever girl to do this."
"But she will not look as old as she ought."
"Yes she will, when she is dressed. I know who will be our dresser, too;
Mrs. Sandford."
"Will she?" said Daisy.
"Yes. She knows how, I know. You and I must go and give invitations,
Daisy."
"Mamma will send the invitations."
"Yes, of course, to the party; but we have got to beat up recruits and get contributions for the tableaux. You and I must do that. I engaged to take all the trouble of the thing from aunt Felicia."
"Contributions, Preston?"
"Of people, Daisy. People for the tableaux. We must have all we can muster20."
"I can't see how you will make Theresa Stanfield look like that."
"I cannot," said Preston laughing,—"but Mrs. Sandford will do part and Theresa herself will do the other part. She will bring her face round, you will see. The thing is, who will be that ugly old woman who is looking at the queen with such eyes of coarse fury—I think I shall have to be that old woman."
"You, Preston!" And Daisy went off into a fit of amusement. "Can you make your eyes look with coarse fury?"
"You shall see. That's a good part. I should not like to trust it to anybody else. Alexander and Hamilton Rush will have to be the Queen's guards—how we want Ransom. Charley Linwood is too small. There's George, though."
"What does that woman look at the queen so for?"
"Wants to see her head come down—which it did soon after."
"Her head come down?"—
"It had come down pretty well then, when the proud, beautiful queen was exposed to the looks and insults of the rabble21. But they wanted to see it come down on the scaffold."
"What had she been doing, to make them hate her?"
"She had been a queen;—and they had made up their minds that nobody ought to be queen, or anything else but rabble; so her head must come off. A great many other heads came off; for the same reason."
"Preston, I don't think the poor would hate that kind of thing so, if the rich people behaved right."
"How do you think rich people ought to behave?" said Preston gravely, turning over the engravings.
Daisy's old puzzle came back on her; she was silent.
"Common people always hate the uncommon22, Daisy. Now what next?—Ah! here is what will do. This is beautiful."
"What is it?"
"Portia and Bassanio. He has just got that letter, you know."
"What letter?"
"Why, Antonio's letter. O don't you know the story? Bassanio was Antonio's friend, and—O dear, it is a long story, Daisy. You must read it."
"But what is the picture about?"
"This. Bassanio has just this minute been married to Portia,—the loveliest lady in all the world; that he knew of; and now comes a letter, just that minute, telling him that his dear friend Antonio is in great danger of being cut to pieces through the wickedness of a fellow that he had borrowed money from. And the money had been borrowed for Bassanio, to set him up for his courtship—so no wonder he feels rather bad."
"Does she know?"
"No; she is just asking what is the matter. That will be a capital picture."
"But you couldn't stand and look like that," said Daisy.
"I shall not," said Preston, "but Hamilton Rush will. I shall give it to him. And—let me see—for Portia—that Fish girl cannot do it, she is not clever enough. It will have to be Theresa Stanfield."
"I should like to see anybody look like that," said Daisy.
"Well, you will. We shall have to go to another book of engravings.—Hollo! here you are again, Daisy. This will do for you exactly. Exactly!"
"What is it?"
"Why Daisy, these are two old Puritans; young ones, I mean, of course; and they are very fond of each other, you know, but somehow they don't know it. Or one of them don't, and he has been goose enough to come to ask Priscilla if she will be his friend's wife. Of course she is astonished at him."
"She does not look astonished."
"No, that is because she is a Puritan. She takes it all quietly, only she says she has an objection to be this other man's wife. And then John finds what a fool he is. That's capital. You shall be Priscilla; you will do it and look it beautifully."
"I do not think I want to be Priscilla,"—said Daisy slowly.
"Yes, you do. You will. It will make such a beautiful picture. I reckon
Alexander Fish will make a good John Alden—he has nice curly hair."
"So have you," said Daisy; "and longer than Alexander's, and more like the picture."
"I am manager, Daisy. That wouldn't do."
"I shall not be in that picture if Alexander is the other one," said
Daisy.
"Well—we will see. But Daisy, it is only playing pictures, you know. It will not be Daisy and Alexander Fish—not at all—it will be Priscilla and John Alden."
"I should think it was Alexander Fish," said Daisy.
Preston laughed.
"But Preston, what is that word you said just now?—what is a Puritan?"
"I don't know. I think you are one. I do not know another."
"You said these were Puritans?"
"Yes, so they were. They were very good people, Daisy, that liked wearing plain dresses. We shall have to have a stuff dress made for you—I reckon you have not one of anything like a Puritan cut."
"Then how am I a Puritan, Preston?"
"Sure enough. I mean that you would be one, if you got a chance. How many pictures have we chosen out?—Six? That is not half enough."
The search went on, through other books and portfolios23. There was good store of them in Mr. Randolph's library, and Daisy and Preston were very busy the whole morning till luncheon24 time. After Daisy's dinner, however, her mind took up its former subject of interest. She went to Joanna, and was furnished with a nice little sponge cake and a basket of sickle25 pears for Molly Skelton. Daisy forgot all about tableaux. This was something better. She ordered the pony26 chaise and got ready for driving.
"Hollo, Daisy!" said Preston as she came out upon the piazza;—"what now?"
"I am going out."
"With me."
"No, I have business, Preston."
"So have I; a business that cannot wait, either. We must go and drum up our people for the tableaux, Daisy. We haven't much time to prepare, and lots of things to do."
"What?"
"First, arrange about the parts everybody is to take; and then the dresses, and then practising."
"Practising what, Preston?"
"Why, the pictures! We cannot do them at a dash, all right; we must drill, until every one knows exactly how to stand and how to look, and can do it well."
"And must the people come here to practise?"
"Of course. Where the pictures and the dresses are, you know. Aunt Felicia is to give us her sewing woman for as much time as we want her; and Mrs. Sandford must be here to see about all that; and we must know immediately whom we can have, and get them to come. We must go this afternoon, Daisy."
"Must I?"
"Certainly. You know—or you would know if you were not a Puritan, little Daisy, that I cannot do the business alone. You are Miss Randolph."
"Did the Puritans not know much?" inquired Daisy.
"Nothing—about the ways of the world."
Daisy looked at the pony chaise, at the blue hills, at her basket of pears; and yielding to what seemed necessity, gave up Molly for that day. She went with Preston, he on horseback, she in her pony chaise, and a very long afternoon's work they made of it. And they did not get through the work, either. But by dint27 of hearing the thing talked over, and seeing the great interest excited among the young folks, Daisy's mind grew pretty full of the pictures before the day was ended. It was so incomprehensible, how Theresa Stanfield could ever bring her merry, arch face into the grave proud endurance of the deposed28 French queen; it was so puzzling to imagine Hamilton Rush, a fine, good-humoured fellow, something older than Preston, transformed into the grand and awful figure of Ahasuerus; and Nora was so eager to know what part she could take; and Mrs. Sandford entered into the scheme with such utter good nature and evident competence29 to manage it. Ella Stanfield's eyes grew very wide open; and Mrs. Fish was full of curiosity, and the Linwoods were tumultuous.
"We shall have to tame those fellows down," Preston remarked as he and
Daisy rode away from this last place,—"or they will upset everything.
Why cannot people teach people to take things quietly!"
"How much that little one wanted to be Red Riding-hood," said Daisy.
"Yes. Little Malapert!"
"You will let her, won't you?"
"I reckon I won't. You are to be Red Riding-hood—unless,—I don't know; perhaps that would be a good one to give Nora Dinwiddie. I shall see."
That day was gone. The next day there was a great overhauling30, by Preston and his mother and Daisy, of the stores of finery which Mrs. Randolph put at their disposal. Mrs. Randolph herself would have nothing to do with the arrangements; she held aloof31 from the bustle32 attending them; but facilities and materials she gave with unsparing hand. Daisy was very much amused. Mrs. Gary and Preston had a good deal of consultation33 over the finery, having at the same time the engravings spread out before them. Such stores of satin and lace robes, and velvet mantles34, and fur wrappings and garnishings, and silken scarfs, and varieties of adornment35 old and new, were gathered into one room and displayed, that it almost tired Daisy to look at them. Nevertheless she was amused. And she was amused still more, when later in the day, after luncheon, Mrs. Sandford arrived and was taken up into the tiring room, as Preston called it. Here she examined the pictures and made a careful survey of the articles with which she must work to produce the desired effects. Some of the work was easy. There was an old cardinal36, of beautiful red cloth, which doubtless would make up Red Riding-hood with very little trouble. There were beautiful plumes38 for Fortitude's head; and Daisy began to wonder how she would look with their stately grace waving over her. Mrs. Sandford tried it. She arranged the plume37 on Daisy's head; and with a turn or two of a dark cashmere scarf imitated beautifully the classic folds of the drapery in the picture. Then she put Daisy in the attitude of the figure; and by that time Daisy felt so strange that her face was stern and grave enough to need no admonishing39. Preston clapped his hands.
"If you will only look like that, Daisy, in the tableau10!"
"Look how?" said Daisy.
"Mrs. Sandford, did you ever see anything so perfect?"
"It is excellent," said that lady.
"If they will all do as well, we shall be encored. But there is no dress here for Bassanio, Mrs. Sandford."
"You would hardly expect your mother's or your aunt's wardrobe to furnish that."
"Hardly. But I am sure uncle Randolph's wardrobe would not do any better. It will have to be made."
"I think I have something at home that will do—something that was used once for a kindred purpose. I think I can dress Bassanio—as far as the slashings are concerned. The cap and plume we can manage here—and I dare say your uncle has some of those old-fashioned long silk hose."
"Did papa ever wear such things?" said Daisy.
"Portia will be easy," said Preston, looking round the room.
"Who is to be Portia?"
"Theresa Stanfield, I believe."
"That will do very well, I should think. She is fair—suppose we dress her in this purple brocade."
"Was Portia married in purple?" said Preston.
Mrs. Sandford laughed a good deal. "Well"—she said—"white if you like; but Theresa will look most like Portia if she wears this brocade. I do not believe white is de rigueur in her case. You know, she went from the casket scene to the altar. If she was like me, she did not venture to anticipate good fortune by putting on a bridal dress till she knew she would want it."
"Perhaps that is correct," said Preston.
"How come you to know so much about the dresses?" said the lady. "That is commonly supposed to be woman's function."
"I am general manager, Mrs. Sandford, and obliged to act out of character."
"You seem to understand yourself very well. Priscilla!—we have no dress for her."
"It will have to be made."
"Yes. Who is there to make it?"
The seamstress was now summoned, and the orders were given for Priscilla's dress, to be made to fit Daisy. It was very amusing, the strait-cut brown gown, the plain broad vandyke of white muslin, and etceteras that Mrs. Sandford insisted on.
"She will look the part extremely well. But are you going to give her nothing but Fortitude and Prudence40, Preston? is Daisy to do nothing gayer?"
"Yes ma'am—she is to be the queen of the Persian king here—what is his name? Ahasuerus! She is Esther."
Daisy opened her lips to say no, but Preston got her into his arms and softly put his hand upon her mouth before she could speak the word. The action was so coaxing41 and affectionate, that Daisy stood still, silent, with his arms round her.
"Queen Esther!" said Mrs. Sandford. "That will tax the utmost of our resources. Mrs. Randolph will lend us some jewels, I hope, or we cannot represent that old Eastern court."
"Mrs. Randolph will lend us anything—and everything," said Preston.
"Then we can make a beautiful tableau. I think Esther must be in white."
"Yes ma'am—it will lend to the fainting effect."
"And we must make her brilliant with jewels; and dress her attendants in colours, so as to set her off; but Esther must be a spot of brilliancy. Ahasuerus rich and heavy. This will be your finest tableau, if it is done well."
"Alfred will not be bad," said Preston.
"In another line. Your part will be easy, Daisy—you must have a pair of strong-armed handmaidens. What do you want Nora for, Preston?"
"Could she be one of them, Mrs. Sandford?"
"Yes,—if she can be impressed with the seriousness of the occasion; but the maids of the queen ought to be wholly in distress42 for their mistress, you know. She could be one of the princes in the tower, very nicely."
"Yes, capitally," said Preston. "And—Mrs. Sandford—wouldn't she make a good John Alden?"
"Daisy for Priscilla! Excellent!" said Mrs. Sandford. "If the two could keep their gravity, which I very much doubt."
"Daisy can keep anything," said Preston. "I will tutor Nora."
"Well, I will help you as much as I can," said the lady, "But, my boy, this business takes time! I had no notion I had been here so long. I must run."
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1
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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disapproving
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| adj.不满的，反对的v.不赞成( disapprove的现在分词 ) | |
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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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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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chestnuts
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| n.栗子( chestnut的名词复数 )；栗色；栗树；栗色马 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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tableau
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| n.画面，活人画（舞台上活人扮的静态画面） | |
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tableaux
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| n.舞台造型，（由活人扮演的）静态画面、场面；人构成的画面或场景( tableau的名词复数 )；舞台造型；戏剧性的场面；绚丽的场景 | |
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engraving
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| n.版画；雕刻（作品）；雕刻艺术；镌版术v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的现在分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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crest
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| n.顶点；饰章；羽冠；vt.达到顶点；vi.形成浪尖 | |
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ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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demureness
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tellers
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| n.（银行）出纳员( teller的名词复数 )；（投票时的）计票员；讲故事等的人；讲述者 | |
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muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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rabble
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| n.乌合之众，暴民；下等人 | |
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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portfolios
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| n.投资组合( portfolio的名词复数 )；（保险）业务量；（公司或机构提供的）系列产品；纸夹 | |
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luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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sickle
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| n.镰刀 | |
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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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deposed
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| v.罢免( depose的过去式和过去分词 )；（在法庭上）宣誓作证 | |
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competence
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| n.能力，胜任，称职 | |
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30
overhauling
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| n.大修；拆修；卸修；翻修v.彻底检查( overhaul的现在分词 )；大修；赶上；超越 | |
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aloof
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| adj.远离的；冷淡的，漠不关心的 | |
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bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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34
mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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adornment
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| n.装饰；装饰品 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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plumes
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| 羽毛( plume的名词复数 )； 羽毛饰； 羽毛状物； 升上空中的羽状物 | |
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39
admonishing
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| v.劝告( admonish的现在分词 )；训诫；（温和地）责备；轻责 | |
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prudence
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| n.谨慎，精明，节俭 | |
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41
coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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