And what was he to do now, when he must go to the timber for his winter’s supply of wood? When he must leave early in the morning, and return at nightfall? He couldn’t leave her alone. He had remarked to one neighbor and another that he wanted some man to bring his wood home for hire. But he found no man willing to do his[241] work. Chirstie would have to take the baby and go to her father’s or his mother’s. She didn’t want to do that. Either Wully would have to take her back and forth7 daily—and that was a difficult thing under the circumstances—or else she would have to stay away for days together, and then Wully would come home to a cold house and no food ready. They dreaded8 those days.
He finished the corn on a Wednesday, and on Thursday they were to have a great lark9. They were to go to town together for the first time. He had a wagonload of prairie chickens to sell, which ought to bring at least ten dollars—silly birds he had caught almost without effort as he husked his corn. Everything was ready. For one day they would put aside all their misgivings10, and be happy together. They were enjoying what seemed to be a second Indian summer, bland11 days for riding across the country. And there was that spring-seat ready for Chirstie’s comfort. Moreover, she was to have a new coat. Wully had wanted to get her one the fall before, but she had said that there were so many things that they had to buy for their house that they really couldn’t afford the coat. She still protested that she really didn’t need it. But Wully was the more determined12 because he suspected she wore her mother’s old wrap for the principle of the thing. As if she needed to act humble13! He wouldn’t have it!
The store in which they found the right coat[242] finally was narrow and dark and full of dull necessities, mittens14 and milk-crocks, grim boots, and grimmer tobacco. Wully hated the clerk the moment he saw him fix upon Chirstie eyes that narrowed expressively15. Nevertheless, the odious16 man brought out from some dark recess17 behind the main room the very garment they were searching for.
“Put this on,” he urged familiarly. She put it on. It was a green thing, so dark a green it was almost black, and rich-looking, short in front, and falling, mantle-wise, well down over her skirts behind. It had rich fringe on it, and intricate frogs for fastenings. Wully would have forestalled18 the clerk, and buttoned it for her, but his fingers were awkward and helpless in such a task. So the man did it, standing19 as near her as he dared. But when she stood forth arrayed, Wully’s annoyance20 was forgotten. He heaved a sigh of satisfaction.
He saw again with surprise how garments change women. She was scarcely the same being who had walked in, in that faded old dingy21 wrap. This coat was made for her, beyond a doubt She asked the price.
“Sixteen dollars.”
“Don’t you like it?” demanded Wully.
“It’s too fine for me. Sixteen dollars!” she commented.
[243]“It’s not too fine. It’s becoming, Chirstie!”
“But sixteen dollars!” she exclaimed, as if that settled the matter.
“Ah, sixteen dollars isn’t going to break us up!” Wully urged, determinedly23. “It’s a grand coat. It’s nobby.” He was at a loss to express his admiration24 for the garment. He only felt vaguely25 that it looked like Glasgow.
“But sixteen dollars, Wully! The idea!”
“You’ll have it, anyway.”
“I will not!” She was indignant “Why, Wully, your coat, your overcoat was only ten last winter!”
“But I hadn’t any red dress to match. Nor any feather!”
The man had come back.
“If you want something cheap now, for your wife——”
“I don’t want anything cheap!” said Wully, “We’ll take this.”
Chirstie stood examining it inside and out. She was wondering what her father would say to such a coat.
She wore the nobby coat away. Wully carried the old garment. He had been gay, almost hilarious26 all the morning, ever since selling the prairie chickens so well. And now as he looked at his stunning27 wife, walking demurely28 along in such grandeur29, his spirits rose higher. He watched people look at her. He chuckled30 to see them.
They walked down the busy little street. He[244] left the old coat at the hotel. She saw a shawl she admired, and he wanted to buy it for her. But she was thinking how nice it would be for his mother, a little soft fine shawl like that. He wondered that he hadn’t thought of that himself. They bought the shawl, and went on down the street. They came to a place where tintypes were taken. It came over him like a flash.
“We’ll go in and have our pictures taken!” he exclaimed.
“Oh,” she said hesitating. “How much will it cost?”
“Oh, nothing much!” he exclaimed. He made her go in with him. There was a picture, was there, he was thinking, that made Wee Johnnie look like the son of that snake? Well, there should soon be another that made him look like another man’s son. Chirstie had never had her likeness31 taken. But Wully had had his made in St. Louis, to be sent to his mother. He knew how to walk in and have the thing done grandly.
He sat down in a chair, and put the baby on one knee, paternally32. On the other knee he spread out a great hand. Chirstie took her place behind him, her hand on his shoulder, her feather curling down over her hat, her new sixteen-dollar coat, her wine-colored skirts showing bravely. And when that was done, he made her sit down with the baby on her knee, for a picture of just the mother and son. And then a further happy thought came to him. He sat down and took the[245] baby, and cuddled his face right up against his own, and demanded a picture.
“It ain’t usual,” the photographer protested. “I can’t take a picture like that! It ain’t usual!”
“This ain’t no usual baby!” Wully replied chuckling34. Who could have made a statement more paternal33 than that? “I want his face against mine!” And he got the picture taken that way, in the end.
They sought the street again. Chirstie was rather overcome by her husband’s grandness. He had such a worldly air—commanding people about. He kept getting more imperious, more happy all the time though he was entirely35 sober. After a while, when it was growing dusk, he spied a friend on the street, just going into his office.
“That’s Mr. Knight36, Chirstie! You remember! The man that drove me home that time! I’ll take you to see him!” He wanted to show her to everybody.
They went into an office having not only a kerosene37 lamp, but a lamp with a rich green shade, most luxurious38, most metropolitan-looking. Chirstie was shy, and Mr. Knight puzzled for a moment.
“I’m McLaughlin,” Wully explained. “The soldier you drove out to Harmony, two years ago. I was sick, you remember!”
Mr. Knight’s face lighted up with recognition.
“Come in, McLaughlin!” he said heartily39. “I didn’t recognize you! Sit down!” Around a table[246] at one end of the room, men were playing cards, well dressed men, who paused and looked up, and continued looking at the newcomers. A tall wide bookcase screened off one corner into something like a private office and to this Mr. Knight led them.
“My wife!” Wully said proudly, as he seated them.
“Your wife? Your baby? Why, it doesn’t seem possible! How the time gets away! And where did you find her?” he asked, so frankly40 pleased with her appearance that she blushed more deeply than she had at his first remark.
“She’s from out there! From Harmony.”
“She is,” he exclaimed. He continued looking at her. “Well, I always said that that was a remarkable41 country. A remarkable country,” he drawled.
Wully was delighted. Knight was a man whose opinion was valuable, a prosperous man, a man dressed as men dress in cities, whose interest he felt was not merely assumed for political ends. “How’s your mother?” he went on. He asked about the children, and the crops, and the new town which was to be near them. Finally he said:
“Well you certainly don’t look much like you did that morning. You were sick. Skin and bones. Do you remember?”
“Do I remember!” exclaimed Wully. “Will I ever forget!” He turned to his wife. “Chirstie, I was sitting right down there by the elevator, where the sidewalk is built up high, you know. I[247] wasn’t sitting, either, I was lying stretched out, to try to keep from throwing up! I thought I’d seen Jimmy Sproul out there, and I’d ride home with him, and when I hurried up to him, it wasn’t Jimmy at all! It just made me sick! And I was lying there when Mr. Knight came along, and began asking me what was the matter of me. He said he would take me home. ‘How far is it?’ you asked, and when I said twenty-six miles, you said, ‘Oh! Twenty-six miles!’ Naturally. That made some difference. My heart sank, as they say. Or maybe it was my breakfast trying to get out. Anyway, I had a pang42 of some kind. And you said, ‘You wait here!’ And pretty soon along you came with those grays! I tell you I felt better even then. I got better all the way home. Every step. It seemed that morning as if I couldn’t wait another minute to start home!”
“Naturally!” remarked Mr. Knight, looking again with a smile, at Chirstie.
“Oh, I didn’t know her then! If I had known her I’d have started home crawling! Have you got those grays yet?” asked Wully, suddenly curious.
“No, I haven’t.” The man smiled reminiscently. “I wish I had, sometimes. A Chicago man came along and wanted them. He was determined to have them. I let them go for a half section of land in Lyons County. I wouldn’t have done it,” he added confidently, “only my son had a baby born a day or two before that. I thought the land would be a good thing to keep for the child. How old[248] is this little fellow?” He snapped his fingers invitingly43 towards the child.
“Oh, he’s—a year or two. Something like that, isn’t he?” he asked his wife.
“Tut, tut, McLaughlin! You need experience! When they’re young like that the women count them in months. Don’t they, Mrs. McLaughlin?” he appealed.
“How old is your grandchild?” Wully parried boldly.
“Oh, mine’s several months. Mine’s—well, he’s got two teeth already!” And they laughed. Wully hastened to safer ground. If he wasn’t careful, someone might ask him when he was married.
“I’ll tell you another thing I remember!” he began. “I got in on that night train, that time, you know, and I went to the hotel where we had always stayed. Sick, I was, you know! I told the man—he’d seen me a dozen times before—that I hadn’t the price of a room. He’d had too much. He never even looked to see who I was. Just saw my uniform and began swearing! Wasn’t going to be eaten out of house and home by a lot of begging soldiers, he said. It nearly knocked me over. I went out to the street. And I couldn’t get up face enough to go some place else and ask for a bed, at first. I just sat around. Then finally I went into the Great West—that’s where we all stay now when we come in. And Pierson there almost began swearing at me because I said I’d pay him later. He didn’t take soldiers’ last cents away from them,[249] he said. He saw how I felt, and he went and got some milk toast made for me. And soft boiled eggs. And then, do you know what he did? He went to a room with me, and when he saw the pillows on the bed, he went and got me a pair of good pillows from some place. I hadn’t slept on a pillow for I don’t know how long! A man notices those things when he’s most dead, I tell you! Milk toast, and pillows, by Jiminy! And in the morning he sat and fed me such a lot of breakfast—no wonder I had trouble! I felt as if I’d never get enough to eat.”
Mr. Knight made him go on talking. They sat there till the street was dark. And then Wully led his wife away, right up to the hotel. And then into the dining room. It seemed lordly to her that dining room—an amazing day—and Wully most lordly and amazing of all. It was like a fine wedding trip, almost, that day.
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收听单词发音
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1
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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orchard
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| n.果园，果园里的全部果树，(美俚)棒球场 | |
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gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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futilely
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| futile（无用的）的变形； 干 | |
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apprehensively
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| adv.担心地 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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bland
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| adj.淡而无味的，温和的，无刺激性的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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13
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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14
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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expressively
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| ad.表示(某事物)地；表达地 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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forestalled
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| v.先发制人，预先阻止( forestall的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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undoing
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| n.毁灭的原因，祸根；破坏，毁灭 | |
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determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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hilarious
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| adj.充满笑声的，欢闹的；[反]depressed | |
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stunning
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| adj.极好的；使人晕倒的 | |
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demurely
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| adv.装成端庄地，认真地 | |
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29
grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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30
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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paternally
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| adv.父亲似地；父亲一般地 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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chuckling
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的现在分词 ) | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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37
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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38
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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42
pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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