Her father nodded approval, as the song ended and the wagon halted before the stable door. As the story goes, young Dan Birge and Lorraine McDowell, the minister’s only child, were playing hop-scotch in imminent5 danger of the horses’ feet. They paused to stare at the newcomers. The young person had begun in businesslike fashion:
“I want to speak to the pro-pry-e-tor. My name is Thurley, Thurley Precore, and this is my dad. He’s awful sick. We come all the way from Boulder6, out in Colorado—I guess you don’t know where that is, but it’s miles ’n’ miles from here. My ma is sick, too,—she’s lyin’ down inside, and she’ll have to see a doctor right off. Where is the pro-pry-e-tor? Ain’t you listening to me? We sell tinware—why, say, our pots and pans can’t be beat—nor matched. Even the gypsies said so when we camped with ’em at Lisbon, Ohio. Isn’t it so, pa?” turning her flushed, lovely face to the man beside her.
“I guess if you says it is—it is,” he chuckled7. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he added to the astonishment[11] of the boy and girl, “what Thurley says goes—she’s been runnin’ this family for enough years to prove that she kin9,” the chuckle8 ended in a hollow cough.
Then, the wretched lace-curtained window was pushed open, and a woman’s faded face appeared, a vapid10, senseless face with dyed blond hair and china-doll blue eyes; a wisp of pink ribbon showed about her drawn11 throat.
“Dear me, Cornelius, don’t stand here all day,” she began fretfully. “Thurley, come right inside and git on some decent duds. I guess folks think, because we’re travellin’ in a wagon, that we ain’t no better than gypsies—well, every one has their high days and their low ones. If my father could see me now!” Her thin hands loaded with cheap rings lifted into view and twelve-year-old Daniel Birge, counted as the gallows’ brightest prospect12, nudged Lorraine McDowell, the only girl he ever played with—because his father made him—until they both laughed.
“Of all the bringin’ up!” floated out in thin, melancholy13 tones. “Cornelius, are you goin’ to set there like a bump on a log and have me laffed at?”
But Thurley had jumped down and with clenched14 fists approached Daniel and Lorraine. She paused, womanlike, to give vent15 to her opinion before she should strike. Just then Prince Hawkins and his wife and Betsey Pilrig and her lame16 grandchild, Philena, gathered as spectators.
They said afterwards that all the devils in the world seemed flashing from the strange child’s blue eyes. She was barefoot and ragged; her dress far too short for her long-legged, awkward self, and her mop of brown hair in a disorderly braid. But she had a fine, strong body, despite the ragged dress, and, although she possessed17 not a single regular feature, there was a prophecy of true greatness in her face.
Daniel and Lorraine stared at the brown, clenched fists. They were the ordinary, well-dressed, well-nourished children to be seen in such a backwoods town as Birge’s Corners.
“Now you laff again,” Thurley commanded. “Laff—go on—let me hear you. I want to tell you I got a sick pa and ma, and we certainly have played hard luck all the way from Boulder, Colorado. I guess, if you had any manners, you’d not laff at us. Not if we do peddle18 tinware and tell fortunes by tea leaves. We ain’t always done it, and we ain’t always goin’ to. But we’re in hard luck—don’t you understand? And don’t you dare to laff when my ma talks or call us gypsies. We’re white folks, but we’re just a little bit discouraged,” her angry voice betrayed a quiver.
The others had gathered nearer to hear what was being said, looking up at the driver’s seat to where the wreck19 of a man sat smoking his corn-cob pipe, secure in the defense20 established by his small virago21.
“I tell you right now,” Thurley’s mother supplemented, “that, when I had my health and was on the stage, I could have bought and sold the whole town. My father was a real Kentucky colonel, and I was brought up to never lift a finger—”
At which Thurley’s father took his pipe from his mouth long enough to say, “Shut up, Jen; let the kid give it to ’em—she knows how.”
Thurley took up the burden of defense. “We want the pro-pry-e-tor. We want to camp here to-night, and get some vittles and we’ll give him the loveliest new tins—as bright as silver. Where is the pro-pry-e-tor?”
Prince Hawkins and his wife, taking pity on the child, came to her rescue.
“Oh, pshaw, I don’t believe we want none of them[13] tins!” Mrs. Hawkins said. “We got more now than we ever use.”
Tears gathered in Thurley’s eyes. She turned her head so they would remain a secret.
“Maybe you’d like your fortunes told?” suggested Mrs. Precore from the window ledge22. “Honest, I certainly have told some remarkable23 things—why, a Chicago finan-seer wanted me to settle in Chicago so he could get my advice as to the stock exchange—” Here she gave way to coughing and vanished completely.
“My ma and pa is too sick to work,” Thurley added, determined24 to gain her point. “I got to get a doctor for them to-morrow. We was headin’ for a city, but we sort of run out of supplies—” She bit her underlip.
“Take it, granny,” Philena whispered.
“Lemme see it,” Betsey answered.
Thurley tore inside the wagon to re-appear with a motley collection of flimsy tins, bent26 and battered27 from their long journey.
A titter ran around the crowd. With the courage born of despair Thurley threw back her head and cried out, “Well, then, if nobody wants to buy anything—I kin sing for our supper!”
“All right, you poor lamb,” Mrs. Prince Hawkins answered, “sing for us, and we’ll see that you get a good hot supper.”
Thurley’s father took his pipe out of his mouth again to say, “She kin sing, ma’am.”
So Thurley, mounting a step of the wagon, began “Believe Me, If All Those Endearing Young Charms,” the sun shining on her dark head, lighting28 up unexpected glints of Titian red. A passing teamster paused to listen,[14] and applauded when she had finished, and the circle of critics were awed29 and quiet. For the ragged child seemed to vanish; she was merely the instrument for the glorious voice unhampered by artificial notions. Thurley sang as she had always done, winning for the inefficient30 parents—“life’s sinking ships,” some one had called them—their food and keep.
“Sing us another, and you can stay another day,” Prince Hawkins called out as the applause ceased.
Thurley responded graciously with:
There was an old man and he had a wooden leg,
He had no tobacco, nor tobacco could he beg.
Another old man had a wooden box,
And he always kept tobacco in the old tobacco box.
Said the first old man, “Gimme a chew.”
Said the second old man, “Durned if I do.
Take my advice and save up your rocks
And you’ll always have tobacco in the old tobacco box!”
“I know dozens,” she announced happily, as she hopped31 down on to the ground, “but, if you don’t mind, I’d rather have supper now and sing some more to-morrow.”
“Drive into that shed,” Prince Hawkins told her. “You come around to the kitchen—I guess your pa can unhitch, can’t he?”
Thurley laughed. “Dear, no—makes him cough—he’s got a pain in his side, too. I sang four songs in the last town for painkiller32, but it didn’t do him any good—over there, pa, dear—I’ll be with you in a minnit.” She watched the rickety wagon creak towards the shed.
Betsey Pilrig and Philena crowded about Thurley. “Is your mother awful sick, too?” Betsey asked.
Thurley nodded. “Always been sick—guess she always[15] will be. Pa has been sick, too—ever since I remember anything.”
“Where are their folks?” Mrs. Hawkins demanded. “Somebody ought to look after them!”
“Guess they haven’t any,” Thurley answered easily. “Guess they’re all dead—or something.”
She looked reproachfully at Daniel and Lorraine, who had retreated several feet away. “Guess you won’t laff again,” she said imperiously.
She passed them with an absurd swagger, and a moment later they saw her unhitching the tired nags with the dexterity33 of a groom34.
“I swan,” Mrs. Hawkins said to Betsey Pilrig, “that mite35 carin’ for those worthless beggars—gettin’ her to sell their old pans—did you ever see such blue eyes and did you ever, ever hear any one sing like that? She’ll be famous, if she don’t starve to death takin’ care of them first!”
“Granny,” said Philena Pilrig,—being lame Philena never played with other children—“I love that little girl; ask her to come see me.”
“She don’t have time for visiting, I guess,” her grandmother answered. “We’ll send her something nice to eat; she’d rather have that.”
Behind the woodpile Daniel and Lorraine were talking it over.
“I’m sorry I laughed,” Lorraine said penitently36. “You made me—my father don’t let me laugh at poor folks.”
“Because he’s a minister—I laughed because it was funny,” Dan retorted, his dark eyes flashing, “and I bet now that—what’s her name?—Thurley would have laughed too, if she could have looked in a glass and seen herself. I like her. I bet she wouldn’t cry, if she got[16] lost in the woods.” This with a reproachful expression.
Lorraine moved nearer him. “Dan, I didn’t really cry; I was just nervous. Maybe I can do things this girl can’t; anyhow, I don’t go around in a ragged dress and my hair all rumpled,” and she smoothed the pattern of her pink frock proudly. She was fair-haired with dove-colored eyes and tiny, dainty features.
Dan did not answer. Lorraine touched his arm. “Are you mad?” she whispered earnestly.
“Not mad, but you know, Lorraine, I only play with you because my father makes me—because your father’s the minister and pa thinks it looks well.” Daniel possessed the aggressive frankness of the Birge family, but he had not acquired their customary diplomacy37.
Lorraine’s underlip quivered. “Wouldn’t you play with me, unless I was?” she asked wistfully. “I always liked you best of every one.”
Daniel stared at her in contempt. “I like you—but you’re a girl, and I like the gang better—I bet though that now—what was it?—Thurley—I bet Thurley would be one of the gang, as if she were a fellow.”
“So you like that ragged girl?” Lorraine asked in alarm.
Dan nodded. “When she sang, my heart beat loud, and she looked at me more’n she did the rest. I’m going to tell her I’m sorry I laughed.”
Lorraine turned to leave him. “My father won’t want me playing with you, Dan, even if your great-great-great-grandfather did discover the lake and your father has money. Everybody knows your father has a gambling38 room and sells beer on Sunday—now! And if you play with a tin peddler’s girl, my father won’t let me play with you—tra-la-la—” She began singing shrilly39.
[17]
“If I was you, I wouldn’t try to sing after what we’ve just heard,” Dan flung back defiantly40, “and, when your father wants a new roof on his old church or another carpet, he’ll be glad enough to take my father’s saloon money.”
With which they parted, Lorraine repairing to the parsonage with her budget of woes41, and Dan striding across to the box-car wagon, to knock at the door.
Thurley’s mother appeared. “What is it, boy?” she demanded fretfully. “Dear me, I was napping and you woke me up with such a start my head aches. Thurley, here’s that boy that laffed.”
Dan took the opportunity to peer inside the wagon. To his mind such an existence would be unquestionably jolly, traveling, traveling, traveling, with no school, no rules or regulations whatsoever42. He had a good mind to bind43 himself out to the Precore family then and there, despite the fact of being Daniel Birge’s only child and the wealthiest boy in the place, as his father often told him.
Inside the wagon was a rude partition. Thurley was busied with something in the front. The stock in trade of tins lined the walls, jangling discordantly44 on the slightest provocation45. Faded stage photographs in plush frames punctuated46 the row of cakepans from the stewing47 kettles, and between the stewing kettles and the frying pans were some of Thurley’s contraptions—hand-colored “ladies,” which she had cut from fashion books or magazines and pasted on the wall. There was a rickety lounge with a red velvet48 “throw,” and an attempt at an easy chair, a tiny oil stove and a wretched cupboard which resembled Mother Hubbard’s concerning contents. Scraps49 of carpet were on the floor, a packing trunk held the Precore wardrobe. An alarm clock minus one hand, but ticking[18] bravely, a copy of “Dreams and Premonitions,” a palm leaf fan, an old accordion50, some greasy51 playing cards, whiskey bottles, kerosene52 lamps, a green penholder without any point and a few yellow-backed novels were the ornaments53. The other side of the partition was evidently sleeping quarters.
Thurley appeared to demand indignantly, “Well—going to laff again?”
“Come outside,” Dan ordered, looking darkly at Thurley’s mother.
Thurley followed, her mother flopping54 down on the lounge and calling to Cornelius to bring her some tea.
Outside the wagon Daniel halted, coming up close to Thurley and adopting a confidential55 tone of voice.
“I’m Daniel Birge,” he said. “My great-great-great-grandfather discovered this lake, and I guess you’ll hear all about our family if you stay here long enough. My father owns that brick building down there. It’s a saloon and a blacksmith shop and a real estate office all in one. Ain’t that awful?” This with a boy grimace56. “When I’m a man, it’s going to be a big department store. All the good folks in this town expect to see me go to hell.” Being the only boy officially allowed to swear, Dan waited for her to be shocked.
But Thurley settled herself on the steps of the wagon, hugging her long legs up under her. “I suppose there’ll be some nice people in hell,” she commented by way of comfort.
Daniel drew out a sheet of paper. “I’m going to have Ali Baba print this in big letters on a card and stick it up over the barn, but maybe it would show better if I put it on your wagon—’cause everybody will come to see that, and so they’d see my card.”
Thurley read the offered paper:
[19]
Big Show to-morrow in D. Birge’s barn
D. Birge manager
Peple our age—ten pins. Children—five pins
See the great swinging man
and
Mising link.
Come early—but one performance so why mis it?
“Are you twelve years old?” was all Thurley commented, handing it back.
Dan nodded. “Can’t I put it on your wagon, Thurley?” He spoke57 her name softly, as if uncertain of his right.
“You haven’t spelled people nor missing as it is in books,” she corrected, a small finger pointing out his errors.
“What difference does that make? Folks know what you mean. As long as you make folks know what you mean, you don’t have to waste time learning how to spell and that truck—my father don’t make me go to school, no siree, not if I don’t want to go; he never went much nor his father nor his father nor his father!” he asserted. “We just about own the Corners, too. There ain’t anybody for miles around that dares sass my father. We started the rich folks coming to this lake, and we got a lot of their trade, and my father can buy any man in this town and then tell him where to get off—even the minister—so there! What’s the good of spelling words right?”
For the first time in his life, however, Dan seemed anxious to meet with approval. When he told the gang his opinions, they listened respectfully, for did not Dan Birge have hip-boots and a bicycle with a coaster brake, to say nothing of unlimited58 spending money and permission—cruel, unjust world!—to skip school and go swimming[20] whenever he liked! True, there were things Dan Birge did not have—he had no mother, no one to take care of him when he was sick, no home—but boys did not analyze59 these things. They only knew that Dan Birge and his father lived at the Hotel Button like real travelling-men, and young Dan wore better clothes and swore more profusely60 and had his own way more than any one else in the Corners. His father, rough, shaggy-haired, black-eyed pirate that he was, feared by all, treated this only child as something to be revered61 and indulged to the point of absurdity62. He was the only human being Dan Birge had ever loved, for he had not loved the frail63 little woman who had taken his name—and his tempers—borne his son and died with a faint sigh of relief.
Some claimed there was Indian blood in Dan Birge. The ancestor discovering the lake had been a trapper and hunter, and many said this ancestor’s wife was no less than a Mohawk squaw. Certain it was that Dan’s graceful64 self, with dark eyes and olive skin and the mop of blue-black hair which would not “stay put,” could have been called proof of the rumor65, also his loyal, generous actions towards the few he liked, and the cold-blooded revenge he executed towards an enemy. As for the Birge temper, surely it suggested tomahawks, scalping and being burnt at the stake, with its relentless66 whirlwind of expression once roused. Dan Birge’s father had the sense to know he was a madman when he was in a rage and he would lock himself in a room, because he was not responsible for his actions, and wait until the spasm67 had been expended68.
His son Dan, having had little to rouse his temper, had not yet been forced to such a procedure. Something in the boy’s dignified69 manner, a deviation70 from his father’s[21] blustering71 self, would indicate that young Dan’s temper could remain at white heat, influencing his actions almost to madness long after his father’s more dramatic rage had died away and humiliating remorse72 set in.
There was, as well, a superstition73 about the fate of a woman who would marry a Birge, for all the Birges’ wives, excepting the rumored74 squaw, had been adoring, meek75 individuals who lived until they bore a son and then died, leaving some one else to bring him up!
Dan had been raised by Submit Curler, Oyster76 Jim, Ali Baba, Betsey Pilrig, Hopeful Whittier—and himself. He began domineering over his father, as a new tyrant77 always wins easily over an old one, before he was a year old. At three the Corners looked aghast at his antics, and shivered at his vocabulary.
“Well,” Thurley Precore answered with spirit equal to Dan’s, “you think you’re smart, because your pa has money, but there’s lots of people smarter than your pa, and I think, if a man has to choose between knowing how to spell and everything and having a little money, he better choose learning. Because he’ll be smart enough to think up a way to take money from the man that don’t know anything. Wait and see. You better go to school while you got the chance and learn—you’ll need it some day. My goodness, I wisht we’d ever stop in one place long enough to let me go to school. I have to just grab for all I know. The longest we stay anywheres is winters—out in Iowa—and an old hoss thief, Aggie78 Tim, traveled with us for awhile and he taught me my tables and lightnin’ calculating. I bet you don’t know any—I bet I know more’n you do—”
“I bet you don’t,” Dan retorted.
“Name the presidents of the United States,” pointing an accusing finger at him.
[22]
“I mean from the start of this country—Washington—”
“Oh, sure, everybody knows about him, he never told a lie—like fun he didn’t—we don’t have school on his birthday. But I never have to go to school, if I don’t want to. I can stay in bed until nine o’clock and have pork sausage and griddle cakes and coffee sent up to my room. I can make Mrs. Hawkins send ’em up, even if she puts it on the bill—my father lets me and he gives me a dollar at a time and lets me spend it as I like. Sometimes he gives me beer to drink, and he takes me to cities on convention trips—he belongs to lodges80 and he gets himself made delegate—you ought to see the hotels we stay at with music playing for all the meals. I get a new suit and a whole lot of stuff to play with and so much candy that I have to stay in bed and just holler with the stomach-ache—there!” He paused with a characteristic Birge tilt81 of the head.
Thurley’s eyes were serious as she answered, “I’m sorry for you. When you’re a man and have a little boy, I hope you’ll bring him up better than you have been brought up. You’ll go to jail, if you keep on acting82 so wicked.”
“Jail? Why, my pa knows the sheriff an’ everybody. I guess he knows the president.”
“If he knows so many people and is so smart, why don’t he live some place besides this funny town?” Thurley demanded.
This stumped83 Dan for a moment, then he answered, “His property is here and he can do what he’s a mind to. If he moved to a city, he’d have to get acquainted with all the police and everything—see?”
[23]
“I don’t like that. I guess you better not introduce me to your father; I wouldn’t approve of him. I won’t live in a little town. I want to be famous and have every one know me, when I drive through the streets, and have people throw flowers at me, when I sing. I want to do something wonderful—and good!” she ended emphatically.
Stung by the inference, she took hold of his shoulders and gave him a sound shaking. “I told you—sing—sing—sing, you silly boy that can’t spell and eats too much candy. I can sing, and nobody can take that away from me or make me stop.”
She released him unexpectedly, and he fell backwards85 over the step. He picked himself up in amazement86, collecting his thoughts and saying slowly, “If you were a boy, I’d lick you.”
“Dare you—go on—pretend I am a boy.” She thrust her bare foot across the imaginary, forbidden line drawn by opponents.
Dan laughed. “Honest, I like you too much. You ain’t a coward like Lorraine McDowell; she cries if a little bit of a toad87 hops88 her way. She likes me more’n I like her and I hate that.”
“Oh, she’s got lots of dresses—she’s always having parties and speaking in school, but she’s a cry-baby. Just because she’s the minister’s daughter she thinks she’s got to be in everything.... Thurley, what words was spelled wrong in that circus poster?” Dan’s dark eyes looked humbly90 at the new tyrant. “I’m taller’n you,” he could not refrain from adding.
“People—p-e-o-p-l-e—and two ss’s in missing.”
[24]
“I’ll change ’em, if you’ll come.”
“If I can find the pins.”
“No, you come and sing, and I’ll write on here, ‘Hear the wonderful singer from way out west; she has travelled miles to get here.’ It’ll be the next best thing to the swinging man.”
“All right.” Thurley clapped her hands. “Who is the swinging man?”
“Why, me,” he answered, in innocent surprise at her question.
“Is Lorraine going to be in it?”
“Not much! She’s got to get pins and come and watch us.”
“Then I’ll sing, because I don’t think I like ministers’ children.”
This was another bond between them. But Dan’s way of showing it was to ask, “Where do you go to winters?”
“Mostly the winter quarters of O’Brien’s circus. Ma used to pose in living pictures with one of the O’Brien girls and that’s why we got invited. The quarters are out in Iowa, and it’s just like having a real house and home. Sometimes acrobats91 that got hurt during the season rest up, or clowns, and one winter we had the india-rubber man and his wife, the bearded woman; and he taught me a lot of songs and she showed me two fancy steps in dancing. Of course, the nicest part is having the animals.”
“Animals?” demanded Dan incredulously. “You mean—circus animals?”
“Sure, that’s what the quarters are for—tigers and bears and monkeys and an elephant or two and a lion, and, for the last two winters, I was big enough to help rub in the tonic92.”
[25]
Dan’s eyes were aflame with curiosity. “Tonic?” he whispered. “What are you trying to hand me?” New worlds were rapidly opening for the young czar.
“Skin tonic—to get their coats in shape for the opening on Decoration Day. Sometimes they’re as glossy93 as silk by spring. Pa and Ma used to do it when I was too little, but their coughs got awful bad, so I took the job.”
“You mean—you swear to goodness,” Dan’s voice sunk to an excited whisper, “you rubbed tonic on—on a tiger?”
Thurley nodded carelessly; she saw no cause for agitation94. “Yes, they need a lot—almost as much as the giraffe—his neck’s so long. After we used pails of it on the giraffe, he died—wasn’t that tough beans? The men holds ’em and we keep pouring it on and rubbing it on—they get real used to it after awhile—most of ’em haven’t any teeth anyhow. I wouldn’t be scared of any circus animal, if I had a pail of our tonic with me—they all know it for an old friend. It comes in a big, red pail labelled ‘Ma Thorpe’s Sheep Dip—Cures Man and Beast Alike.’ Why, one clown was the baldest thing you ever saw and he nearly beat the Sutherland Sisters at their own game when spring came, and the bearded lady never sat down for a moment that she wasn’t dipping her hand in a little saucer of it and rubbing it on her chin.”
“Paint the props96 over, and the clown practises his shines, and Ma and the bearded lady went over all the property tights and costumes and darned and washed ’em and sewed on new spangles. It was like a real family. You know,” she edged up confidentially97, “I always played that it was a family—with the india-rubber man and his wife for the father and mother, and the clowns and acrobats[26] for uncles and aunts, and all the animals—except the snakes—were my brothers and sisters. I played the snakes were out-of-town relations.”
“And what were your own father and mother?” Dan managed to inquire.
Presently Dan sighed, “I wisht you’d stay in this town. Don’t your father or mother ever work or anything?”
“They’re sick. I guess I ought to have been their father and mother. All the way here I sung for food and sold tins. Ma didn’t tell but two fortunes all the time. She got a summer squash for one and some lake trout99 for the other.”
“Then you’re dead poor,” the boy was thinking out loud.
“Yes, but when I’m big and can sing in a hall and get a dollar a night—then we won’t be poor. We can travel in steam cars and Pa can have all the painkiller he likes, and Ma can just lay on a sofa and read novels and cry.”
Dan put his hand in his pocket and drew out some money. “Thurley, I want to honest buy some pans—can I—how much?”
“You’re giving me money for something you don’t want!”
“By George, listen to her!” he informed the tired horses nibbling100 at posts. “I do, too—I want to put ’em away for Mrs. Hawkins’ Christmas present.”
“She said she didn’t need any. Didn’t you hear?”
“But presents ain’t what you need, but what you get.”
“I couldn’t—you’re just being nice.”
“Well, I tell you—I’m manager of the show and I can pay you to sing, can’t I?”
[27]
Thurley’s eyes brightened. Dreams do come true, if one is patient.
“Yes, I’d take money for singing,” she admitted.
“How much?”
“A cent a song to begin with—if I take well, you can make it two.”
Dan emptied the money into her ragged lap. “It’s about a dollar—and you can sing a hundred songs.”
“At one performance?”
“No, we’re going to South Wales and Pike and give our show.”
“Thurley, come in quick, your ma’s took bad,” called a weak voice from within. “I guess she’ll have to be rubbed.”
“I’ll have to go—thanks, Dan.”
“Good-by, Thurley; I hope she’s not awful sick—to-morrow—”
“To-morrow,” she waved one hand, the other holding the tattered101 dress skirt with its burden of coins.
Half an hour later Mrs. Hawkins, coming to the box wagon to find out why the travellers had not appeared for their supper, found Thurley and her father kneeling beside the lounge.
“She must have died just as I come in,” Mrs. Hawkins told the neighbors. “Poor little lamb, blessed if she didn’t start right in to comfort that miserable102 dad of hers! Well, I guess them hosses will stay unhitched for some time to come!”
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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unwillingly
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| adv.不情愿地 | |
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nags
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| n.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的名词复数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的第三人称单数 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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boulder
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| n.巨砾；卵石，圆石 | |
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7
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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vapid
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| adj.无味的；无生气的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vent
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| n.通风口，排放口；开衩；vt.表达，发泄 | |
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16
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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18
peddle
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| vt.(沿街)叫卖，兜售；宣传，散播 | |
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19
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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21
virago
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| n.悍妇 | |
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ledge
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| n.壁架，架状突出物；岩架，岩礁 | |
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23
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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inefficient
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| adj.效率低的，无效的 | |
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hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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32
painkiller
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| n.止痛药 | |
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dexterity
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| n.(手的)灵巧，灵活 | |
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34
groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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35
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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36
penitently
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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38
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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shrilly
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| 尖声的； 光亮的，耀眼的 | |
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40
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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41
woes
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| 困境( woe的名词复数 )； 悲伤； 我好苦哇； 某人就要倒霉 | |
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42
whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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43
bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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discordantly
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| adv.不一致地，不和谐地 | |
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45
provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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47
stewing
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| 炖 | |
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48
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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49
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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50
accordion
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| n.手风琴；adj.可折叠的 | |
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51
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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52
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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53
ornaments
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| 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 ) | |
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54
flopping
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| n.贬调v.（指书、戏剧等）彻底失败( flop的现在分词 )；（因疲惫而）猛然坐下；（笨拙地、不由自主地或松弛地）移动或落下；砸锅 | |
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confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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57
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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58
unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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59
analyze
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| vt.分析，解析 (=analyse) | |
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profusely
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| ad.abundantly | |
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61
revered
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| v.崇敬，尊崇，敬畏( revere的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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62
absurdity
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| n.荒谬，愚蠢；谬论 | |
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63
frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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relentless
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| adj.残酷的，不留情的，无怜悯心的 | |
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67
spasm
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| n.痉挛，抽搐；一阵发作 | |
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68
expended
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| v.花费( expend的过去式和过去分词 )；使用（钱等）做某事；用光；耗尽 | |
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69
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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70
deviation
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| n.背离，偏离；偏差，偏向；离题 | |
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blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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72
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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73
superstition
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| n.迷信，迷信行为 | |
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74
rumored
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| adj.传说的，谣传的v.传闻( rumor的过去式和过去分词 )；[古]名誉；咕哝；[古]喧嚷 | |
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75
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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76
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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77
tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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78
aggie
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| n.农校，农科大学生 | |
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79
bragged
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| v.自夸，吹嘘( brag的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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80
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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81
tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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82
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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83
stumped
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的过去式和过去分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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84
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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86
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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87
toad
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| n.蟾蜍，癞蛤蟆 | |
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88
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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89
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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90
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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91
acrobats
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| n.杂技演员( acrobat的名词复数 )；立场观点善变的人，主张、政见等变化无常的人 | |
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92
tonic
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| n./adj.滋补品，补药，强身的，健体的 | |
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93
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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94
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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95
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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96
props
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| 小道具； 支柱( prop的名词复数 )； 支持者； 道具； （橄榄球中的）支柱前锋 | |
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97
confidentially
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| ad.秘密地，悄悄地 | |
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98
chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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99
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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100
nibbling
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| v.啃，一点一点地咬（吃）( nibble的现在分词 )；啃出（洞），一点一点咬出（洞）；慢慢减少；小口咬 | |
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101
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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102
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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