At home in New York, she was accustomed to administer informal tea by means of a silver ball and a spirit lamp. These two diminutive2 pots, the one of water and the other of tea, left her in a blissful state of uncertainty3 whether she was to measure them out, half and half, or, emptying the teapot at the first round, fill it up with the water in the hopes of decocting a feeble second cup. Moreover, Nancy preferred lemon in her tea, and, worst of all, there were no sugar tongs4. Nancy wondered vaguely5 whether Englishwomen were wont6 to make tea in brand-new gloves, or whether Englishmen were less finical than their transatlantic brethren.
Barth, his glasses on his nose, watched her intently. His very intentness increased her abashment. It had been at his suggestion that they had gone to the little tea shop, that afternoon, and Nancy had no wish to bring disgrace either upon Barth or herself, in the presence of those of Quebec’s fair daughters who, at the tables around them, were sipping7 tea and gossip by turns.
Devoutly8 praying that she might not upset the cream jug10, nor forget to call the sugarbowl a basin, Nancy at last succeeded in filling Barth’s cup.
“How scriptural!” he observed, as he took it from her hand.
“In what way?”
“It runneth over,” he quoted gravely.
Nancy developed a literal turn of mind. She did it now and then; it was always unexpected, and it left her companion of the moment in the conversational13 lurch14.
“That means happiness, not tea,” she said calmly.
Barth looked at her inquiringly. Then, with unwonted swiftness, he rallied.
“Sometimes the two are synonymous,” he said quietly.
But Nancy turned wayward.
“Not when they are watered down. But you must admit that Americans give good measure.”
Barth smiled across the table at her, in manifest content.
“Of both,” he asserted, as he stirred his tea.
“Have a biscuit,” Nancy advised him suddenly.
“A—Would you like me to order some? I dare say they have them out there.”
Nancy rested her elbows on the table with a protesting bump.
“There you go Britishing me again!” she said hotly. “You said you wouldn’t do it. Even if I am an American, I do know enough not to say cracker15. That was one of the few lessons I learned at my mother’s knee. But there aren’t any cracker-biscuits here. I was referring to these others.”
Barth glanced anxiously about the table. Aside from the tray, there were two plates upon the table, and one of the two held tiny strips of toasted bread. All told, there were exactly eight of the strips, each amounting to a mouthful and a half, and Nancy had just been out at the Cove16 Fields, playing golf.
Nancy pointed to the other plate.
“I mean those—biscuits,” she said conclusively17 and with emphasis.
“Those? Oh. But those aren’t biscuits.”
This time, Nancy fairly bounced in her chair.
“They are nothing in this world but common, every-day American soda21 biscuits,” she said, as she helped herself to the puffiest and the brownest. “You are in America now, Mr. Barth, and there is no sense in your putting British names to our cooking. Will you have a biscuit?”
“Oh, yes. But really, you know, they are scones,” he protested. “My mother nearly always has them.”
Nancy cast anxious eyes at the drop of molten butter that was trickling22 along the base of her thumb.
“And so do we,” she replied firmly; “only we eat them at breakfast, with a napkin. I don’t mean that we actually eat the napkin,” she explained hastily, in mercy for the limitations of her companion’s understanding. “But, really, these are very buttery.”
Nancy furtively26 rescued her handkerchief from her temporary substitute for a pocket. Then, bending forward, she arranged four of the strips of toast around the margin27 of her saucer.
“What’s that for?” Barth queried28, at a loss to know whether the act was another Americanism, or merely a Nancyism pure and simple.
“We are going to go halves on our rations,” Nancy answered coolly. “I am just as hungry as you are, and I don’t propose to have you eating more than your share of things.”
“Would you like to have me order some more scones?” he asked courteously29.
For the space of a full minute, Nancy bestowed30 her entire attention upon her teacup. Then she lifted the white of one eye to Barth’s questioning face.
“Oh, rather!” she responded nonchalantly.
At the tables around them, Quebec’s fair daughters paused in their tea and their gossip to cast a questioning glance in the direction of Barth’s mirth. As a rule, masculine mirth had scant31 place in the cosy32 little tea shop. In summer, it was visited by a procession of American tourists who imbibed33 its tea in much the same solemn spirit as they breathed the incense34 of the Basilica, inhaled35 the crisp breeze over Cape36 Diamond and tasted the vigorous brew37 that ripened38 in the vaults39 of the old intendant’s palace. When the tourists had betaken themselves southward and Quebec once more began to resume its customary life, the shop became a purely40 feminine function. It was an ideal place for a dish of gossip in the autumnal twilight41. The walls hung thick with ancient plates and mirrors, venerable teapots and jugs42 stood in serried43 ranks along the shelf about the top of the room, and a quaint44 assortment45 of rugs nearly covered the floor. Here and there about the wide room were scattered46 little claw-footed tables whose shiny tops were covered with squares of homespun linen47, brown and soft as a bit of Indian pongee. Not even the blazing electric lights could give an air of modernness to the place, and Nancy, in the intervals48 of her struggles with the tray, looked about her with complete content.
Barth possessed49 certain of the attributes of a successful general. Wide experience had taught him to administer fees freely and, as a rule, with exceeding discretion50. As a result, he and Nancy were in possession of the most desirable table in the room, close beside the deep casement51 overlooking Saint Louis Street. Nancy, the light falling full on her eager face, over her radiant hair and on her dark cloth gown, could watch at her will the loitering passers in the street beneath, or the idle groups at the tables around her. Barth, his own face in shadow, could see but one thing. That one thing, however, was quite enough, for it was Nancy.
More than a week had passed since the morning in the market. To Mr. Cecil Barth, the week had seemed like a year, and yet shorter than many a single day of his past experience. Their walk homeward from the market had been by way of Saint Roch and the old French fortifications, and their conversation had been as devious52 as their path. Nevertheless, Barth, as he sat in his room applying liniment and red flannel53 to his aching ankle, felt that they had been moving straight towards a perfect understanding and good-fellowship. He had left Nancy, the night before, convinced of her generosity54, but equally convinced that the worst hour of his life had been the hour when he took the train for Sainte Anne-de-Beaupré. Now, as he meditatively55 contemplated56 the pool of liniment on the carpet at his feet, he acknowledged to himself that the Good Sainte Anne had wrought57 a mighty58 series of miracles in his behalf, and he offered up a prayer, as devout9 as it was incoherent, that she might not remove her favor until she had wrought the mightiest59 miracle of all. Then, his prayer ended and his ankle anointed, he fell to whistling contentedly60 to himself as he tied up his shoe and brushed his yellow hair in preparation for dinner.
As far as possible, for the next week, he had been a fixture61 at Nancy’s side. As yet, much walking was out of the question for him; but, within the narrow limits of the city wall, or under the roof of The Maple62 Leaf, neither Brock nor St. Jacques were able to sever63 him from his self-imposed connection with Nancy’s apron64 string. He took small part in the conversation; with Brock, at least, he manifested a complete indifference65 to the course of events. It was merely that he was there, and that there he meant to stay, filling in the hiatuses of Nancy’s time, answering her lightest appeals for attention and now and then adding a pithy66 word of support to even her most wayward opinions. It was not the first time that an invading British force had encamped about a fortress67 at Quebec. Wolfe at the head of his army showed no more gritty determination to win than did that quiet, simple-minded Britisher, Mr. Cecil Barth.
And, as the October days crept by, Nancy Howard grew increasingly nervous, St. Jacques increasingly annoyed, and Reginald Brock increasingly amused at the whole situation.
That morning, Barth had sat for a long hour, staring thoughtfully at the yellow-striped paper of his room, while he pondered the entire case. One by one, he passed over the events of the past six weeks in detailed68 review. He recalled those first days in Quebec, when his one idea had been to avoid the unsought society of the whole cordial American tribe. He bethought himself contentedly of his first aversion for Adolphe St. Jacques, which had been co?rdinate, in point of time, with his introduction to the dining-room of The Maple Leaf. He remembered the sunshiny morning which, following on the heels of a week of drizzle69, had lured70 him forth71 to Sainte Anne-de-Beaupré and to his ultimate destruction.
Up to that time, his memories were orderly and logical. From that point onward72, they fell into chaos73. Days of grinding pain and intense dreariness74 were lightened by the sound of Nancy’s low voice and the touch of Nancy’s firm, supple75 fingers upon his injured foot. True, she had been an American; but, even at that early stage of his experience, it had begun to dawn upon Mr. Cecil Barth that, under proper conditions and in their proper places, Americans might have certain pleasing attributes. Then Nancy had left him. In the lonely days which followed, Barth had acknowledged to himself that, for Americans of a proper type, the proper conditions and the proper places bore direct connection with his own individual bottle of liniment. The acknowledgment was reached in the midst of his own efforts to establish relations with his own ankle which, all at once, seemed to him peculiarly remote and elusive76. And then? Then he had returned to The Maple Leaf, and had found Nancy there, and she was the same Nancy, and there was a very jolly little tea shop in Saint Louis Street. At that point in his musings, Mr. Cecil Barth had seized his cap and rushed down the stairs of his ducal home.
Only once, as he was crossing through the Ring, did it occur to his mind, as a possible factor in the case, that, though a younger son, his departure for America had been attended by the wailing77 of a large chorus of mothers. Even then, he dismissed the thought as unworthy of Nancy and of himself. Details of that kind entered into the present situation not at all.
Fate was all in his favor, that morning. He found Nancy quite alone, and, as a result of his finding her, Nancy had been confronted by the tea-tray and the Britisher in combination.
“I don’t see what you are laughing at,” she said plaintively78, in answer to Barth’s merriment. “I am only trying to make my meaning unmistakable to you.”
Barth laughed again.
“Oh, in time you would make a fairly good Englishwoman,” he said reassuringly79.
Only Nancy’s super-acute ear could have discovered the note of condescension80 in his voice. She set down her teacup with a thump81.
“Thank you; but I have no aspirations82 in that direction,” she responded shortly.
“How strange!” Barth observed, as he took another scone20, opened it and peered in to see which was the more buttery side.
“I don’t see anything strange at all,” Nancy argued. “Who wants to be English?”
Barth shut up the scone like a box, and laid it down on the edge of his saucer.
“I do.”
“Well, you are. You ought to be satisfied.”
In hot haste, Barth felt about for his glasses; but they were tangled83 in his buttons, and he missed them.
“Oh, rather!” he assented hurriedly. “Do have another scone.”
Notwithstanding her indignation, Nancy laughed. Barth’s accent was so like that of an elderly uncle bribing84 a naughty child to goodness by means of a stick of candy.
“Thank you, I always like hot biscuits,” she assented. Then, for the second time, she put her elbows on the table and sat resting her chin upon her clasped hands. “Mr. Barth,” she said meditatively; “has it ever occurred to you that I may possibly be proud of having been born an American?”
Barth peered up at her in near-sighted curiosity.
“Oh, no,” he answered.
Nancy’s eyes were fixed85 thoughtfully upon him, taking in every detail of his earnest face, honest and boyish, and likable withal.
“Well,” she reiterated86 slowly; “I am.”
“And you wouldn’t rather be English, if you could?” Barth queried, with an eagerness for which she was at a loss to account.
“No. Why should I?”
He sat looking steadily87 at her, while the scarlet88 color mounted across his cheeks and brow. Then even Nancy’s ears could not fail to distinguish the minor89 cadence90 in his voice, as he said, in slow regret,—
“I—I am sorry. I really can’t see why.”
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1
abashment
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| n.羞愧，害臊 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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uncertainty
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| n.易变，靠不住，不确知，不确定的事物 | |
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4
tongs
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| n.钳；夹子 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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6
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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7
sipping
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的现在分词 ) | |
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8
devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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devout
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| adj.虔诚的，虔敬的，衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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10
jug
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| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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12
overflow
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| v.(使)外溢，(使)溢出；溢出，流出，漫出 | |
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conversational
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| adj.对话的，会话的 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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15
cracker
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| n.（无甜味的）薄脆饼干 | |
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cove
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| n.小海湾，小峡谷 | |
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conclusively
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| adv.令人信服地，确凿地 | |
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18
scathing
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| adj.（言词、文章）严厉的，尖刻的；不留情的adv.严厉地，尖刻地v.伤害，损害（尤指使之枯萎）( scathe的现在分词) | |
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scones
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| n.烤饼，烤小圆面包( scone的名词复数 ) | |
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scone
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| n.圆饼，甜饼，司康饼 | |
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soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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22
trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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forefinger
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| n.食指 | |
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relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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25
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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margin
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| n.页边空白；差额；余地，余裕；边，边缘 | |
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28
queried
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| v.质疑，对…表示疑问( query的过去式和过去分词 )；询问 | |
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29
courteously
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| adv.有礼貌地，亲切地 | |
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30
bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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32
cosy
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| adj.温暖而舒适的，安逸的 | |
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imbibed
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| v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 )；喝；吸取；吸气 | |
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34
incense
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| v.激怒；n.香，焚香时的烟，香气 | |
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35
inhaled
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| v.吸入( inhale的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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36
cape
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| n.海角，岬；披肩，短披风 | |
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brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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ripened
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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vaults
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| n.拱顶( vault的名词复数 )；地下室；撑物跳高；墓穴 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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42
jugs
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| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
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serried
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| adj.拥挤的；密集的 | |
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quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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48
intervals
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| n.[军事]间隔( interval的名词复数 )；间隔时间；[数学]区间；（戏剧、电影或音乐会的）幕间休息 | |
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49
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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51
casement
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| n.竖铰链窗；窗扉 | |
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52
devious
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| adj.不坦率的，狡猾的；迂回的，曲折的 | |
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53
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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54
generosity
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| n.大度，慷慨，慷慨的行为 | |
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55
meditatively
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| adv.冥想地 | |
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56
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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57
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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58
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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mightiest
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| adj.趾高气扬( mighty的最高级 )；巨大的；强有力的；浩瀚的 | |
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contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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fixture
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| n.固定设备；预定日期；比赛时间；定期存款 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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sever
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| v.切开，割开；断绝，中断 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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pithy
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| adj.(讲话或文章)简练的 | |
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67
fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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drizzle
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| v.下毛毛雨；n.毛毛雨，蒙蒙细雨 | |
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70
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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73
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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74
dreariness
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| 沉寂，可怕，凄凉 | |
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75
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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76
elusive
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| adj.难以表达(捉摸)的；令人困惑的；逃避的 | |
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77
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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78
plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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80
condescension
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| n.自以为高人一等，贬低(别人) | |
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81
thump
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| v.重击，砰然地响；n.重击，重击声 | |
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82
aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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83
tangled
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| adj. 纠缠的，紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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84
bribing
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| 贿赂 | |
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85
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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86
reiterated
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| 反复地说，重申( reiterate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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88
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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89
minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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cadence
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| n.（说话声调的）抑扬顿挫 | |
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