But all these excitements were become as nothing. A new occupation presented itself. A dozen times a day now I had to watch through the fence-cracks, or through the knot-hole, or boldly between the pickets8 of the front fence, at the fascinating performances of the New Boy and his troops of friends. At any moment both194 Mary Elizabeth and I would abandon what we were doing to go to stare at the unaccountable activities which were forever agitating9 them. They were always producing something from their pockets and examining it, with their heads together, or manufacturing something or burying something, or disputing about something unguessed and alluring10. Their whole world was filled with doing, doing, doing, whereas ours was made wholly of watching things get done.
On an afternoon Mary Elizabeth and I were playing together in our side yard. It was the day for Delia’s music lesson, and as she usually did her whole week’s practising in the time immediately preceding that event, the entire half day was virtually wasted. We could hear her going drearily11 over and over the first and last movements of “At Home,” which she had memorized and could play like lightning, while the entire middle of the piece went with infinite deliberation. Calista was, we understood (because of some matter pertaining12 to having filled the bath-tub and waded13 in it and ruined the dining-room ceiling), spending the day in her bed. And Margaret Amelia and Betty Rodman were being kept at home because the family195 had company; and such was the prestige of the Rodmans that the two contrived14 to make this circumstance seem enviable, and the day before had pictured to us their embroidered15 white dresses and blue ribbons, and blue stockings, and the Charlotte Russe for supper, until we felt left out, and not in the least as if their company were of a kind with events of the sort familiar to us. Since I have grown up, I have observed this variety of genius in others. There is one family which, when it appears in afternoon gowns on occasions when I have worn a street dress, has power to make me wonder how I can have failed to do honour to the day; but who, when they wear street gowns and I am dressed for afternoon, invariably cause me to feel inexcusably overdressed. It is a kind of genius for the fit, and we must believe that it actually designates the atmosphere which an occasion shall breathe.
Mary Elizabeth and I were playing Dolls. We rarely did this on a pleasant day in Summer, Dolls being an indoor game, matched with carpets and furniture and sewing baskets rather than with blue sky and with the soft brilliance16 of the grass. But that day we had brought196 everything out in the side yard under the little catalpa tree, and my eleven dolls (counting the one without any face, and Irene Helena, the home-made one, and the two penny ones) were in a circle on chairs and boxes and their backs, getting dressed for the tea-party. There was always going to be a tea-party when you played Dolls—you of course had to lead up to something, and what else was there to lead up to save a tea-party? To be sure, there might be an occasional marriage, but boy-dolls were never very practical; they were invariably smaller than the bride-doll, and besides we had no mosquito-netting suitable for a veil. Sometimes we had them go for a walk, and once or twice we had tried playing that they were house-cleaning; but these operations were not desirable, because in neither of them could the dolls dress up, and the desirable part of playing dolls is, as everybody knows, to dress them in their best. That is the game. That, and the tea-party.
“Blue or rose-pink?” Mary Elizabeth inquired, indicating the two best gowns of the doll she was dressing17.
It was a difficult question. We had never been able to decide which of these two colours we preferred. There was the sky for precedent18 of blue, but then rose-pink we loved so to say!
She settled everything in that way; she counted the petals19 of fennel daisies and blew thistle from dandelions.
197 “If they’s one cloud in the sky, we’ll put on the rose-pink one,” said Mary Elizabeth. “And if there isn’t any, that’ll mean blue.”
She settled everything that way—she counted the petals of fennel daisies, blew the thistle from dandelions, did one thing if she could find twelve acorns20 and another if they were lacking. Even then Mary Elizabeth seemed always to be watching for a guiding hand, to be listening for a voice to tell her what to do, and trying to find these in things of Nature.
We dressed the Eleven in their best frocks, weighing each choice long, and seated them about a table made of a box covered with a towel. We sliced a doughnut and with it filled two small baskets for each end of the table, on which rested my toy castor and such of my dishes as had survived the necessity which I had felt for going to bed with the full set, on the night of the day, some years before, when I had acquired them. We picked all the flowers suitable for doll decorations—clover, sorrel, candytuft, sweet alyssum. We observed the unities198 by retiring for a time sufficient to occupy the tea-party in disposing of the feast; and then we came back and sat down and stared at them. Irene Helena, I remember, had slipped under the table in a heap, a proceeding21 which always irritated me, as nakedly uncovering the real depths of our pretence—and I jerked her up and set her down, like some maternal22 Nemesis23.
In that moment a wild, I may almost say thick, shriek24 sounded through our block, and there came that stimulating25 thud-thud of feet on earth that accompanies all the best diversions, and also there came the cracking of things,—whips, or pistols, or even a punch, which rapidly operated will do almost as well. And down the yards of the block and over the fences and over the roof of my play-house came tumbling and shrieking26 the New Boy, and in his wake were ten of his kind.
Usually they raced by with a look in their eyes which we knew well, though we never could distinguish whether it meant robbers or pirates or dragons or the enemy. Usually they did not even see us. But that day something in our elaborate preparation to receive somebody or to welcome something, and our eternal moment199 of suspended animation27 at which they found us, must have caught the fancy of the New Boy.
“Halt!” he roared with the force and effect of a steam whistle, and in a moment they were all stamping and breathing about Mary Elizabeth and me.
We sprang up in instant alarm and the vague, pathetic, immemorial impulse to defence. We need not have feared. The game was still going forward and we were merely pawns28.
“Who is the lord of this castle?” demanded the New Boy.
“Bindyliggs,” replied Mary Elizabeth, without a moment’s hesitation29, a name which I believe neither of us to have heard before.
“Where is this Lord of Bindyliggs?” the New Boy pressed it.
Mary Elizabeth indicated the woodshed. “At meat,” she added gravely.
“Forward!” the New Boy instantly commanded, and the whole troop disappeared in our shed. We heard wood fall, and the clash of meeting weapons, and the troop reappeared, two by way of the low window.
“Enough!” cried the New Boy, grandly. “We have spared him, but there is not a moment to200 lose. You must come with us immediately. What you got to eat?”
Raptly, we gave them, from under the wistful noses of Irene Helena and the doll without the face and the rest, the entire sliced doughnut, and two more doughnuts, dipped in sugar, which we had been saving so as to have something to look forward to.
“Come with us,” said the New Boy, graciously. “To horse! We may reach the settlement by nightfall—if we escape the Brigands30 in the Wood. The Black Wood,” he added.
Even then, I recall, I was smitten31 with wonder that he who had shown so little imagination in that matter of dirt and apples and potatoes should here be teeming32 with fancy on his own familiar ground. It was years before I understood that there are almost as many varieties of imaginative as of religious experience.
Fascinated, we dropped everything and followed. The way led, it appeared, to the Wells’s barn, a huge, red barn in the block, with doors always invitingly33 open and chickens pecking about, and doves on a little platform close to the pointed35 roof.
“Aw, say, you ain’t goin’ to take ’em along,201 are you?” demanded one knight36, below his voice. “They’ll spoil everythin’.”
“You’re rescuin’ ’em, you geezer,” the New Boy explained. “You got to have ’em along till you get ’em rescued, ain’t you? Arrest that man!” he added. “Put him in double irons with chains and balls on. And gag him, to make sure.”
And it was done, with hardly a moment’s loss of time.
We went round by the walk—a course to which the arrested one had time to refer in further support of his claim as to our undesirability37. But he was drowned in the important topics that were afoot: the new cave to be explored where the Branchetts were putting a cellar under the dining-room, mysterious boxes suspected to contain dynamite38 being unloaded into the Wells’s cellar, and the Court of the Seven Kings, to which, it seemed, we were being conveyed in the red barn.
“Shall we give ’em the password?” the New Boy asked, sotto voce, as we approached the rendezvous39. And Mary Elizabeth and I trembled as we realized that he was thinking of sharing the password with us.
202 “Naw!” cried the Arrested One violently. “It’ll be all over town.”
The New Boy drew himself up—he must have been good to look at, for I recall his compact little figure and his pink cheeks.
“Can’t you tell when you’re gagged?” he inquired with majesty40. “You’re playin’ like a girl yourself. I can give the password for ’em, though,” he added reasonably. So we all filed in the red barn, to the Court of the Seven Kings, and each boy whispered the password into the first manger, but Mary Elizabeth and I had it whispered for us.
What the Court of the Seven Kings might have held for us we were never to know. At that instant there appeared lumbering41 down the alley42 a load of hay. Seated in the midst was a small figure whom we recognized as Stitchy Branchett; and he rose and uttered a roar.
“Come on, fellows!” he said. “We dast ride over to the Glen. I was lookin’ for you. Father said so.” And Stitchy threw himself on his back, and lifted and waved his heels.
Already our liberators were swarming43 up the hay-rack, which had halted for them. In a twinkling they were sunk in that fragrance,203 kicking their heels even as their host. Already they had forgotten Mary Elizabeth and me, nor did they give us good-bye.
We two turned and went through the Wells’s yard, back to the street. Almost at once we were again within range of the sounds of Delia, practising interminably on her “At Home.”
“I never rode on a load of hay,” said Mary Elizabeth at length.
Neither had I, though I almost always walked backward to watch one when it passed me.
“What do you s’pose the password was?” said Mary Elizabeth.
It was days before we gave over wondering. And sometimes in later years I have caught myself speculating on that lost word.
“I wonder what we were rescued from,” said Mary Elizabeth when we passed our woodshed door.
We stopped and peered within. No Lord of Bindyliggs, though we had almost expected to see him stretched there, bound and helpless.
What were we rescued from? We should never know.
We rounded the corner by the side yard. There sat our staring dolls, drawn44 up about the204 tea-table, static all. As I looked at them I was seized and possessed45 by an unreasoning fury. And I laid hold on Irene Helena, and had her by the heels, and with all my strength I pounded her head against the trunk of the catalpa tree.
Mary Elizabeth understood—when did she not understand?
“Which one can I—which one can I?” she cried excitedly.
“All of ’em!” I shouted, and one after another we picked up the Eleven by their skirts, and we threw them far and wide in the grass, and the penny dolls we hurled46 into the potato patch.
Then Mary Elizabeth looked at me aghast.
“Your dolls!” she said.
“I don’t care!” I cried savagely47. “I’ll never play ’em again. I hate ’em!” And I turned to Mary Elizabeth with new eyes. “Let’s go down town after supper,” I whispered.
“I could,” she said, “but you won’t be let.”
“I won’t ask,” I said. “I’ll go. When you get done, come on over.”
I scorned to gather up the dolls. They were205 in the angle below the parlour windows, and no one saw them. As soon as supper was finished, I went to my room and put on my best shoes, which I was not allowed to wear for everyday. Then I tipped my birthday silver dollar out of my bank and tied it in the corner of my handkerchief. Down in the garden I waited for Mary Elizabeth.
It was hardly dusk when she came. We had seen nothing of Delia, and we guessed that she was to stay in the house for the rest of the day as penance48 for having, without doubt, played “At Home” too badly.
“You better not do it,” Mary Elizabeth whispered. “They might....”
“Come on,” I said only.
“Let’s try a June grass,” she begged. “If the seeds all come off in my teeth, we’ll go. But if they don’t—”
“Come on,” said I, “I’m not going to monkey with signs any more.”
We climbed the back fence, partly so that the chain, weighted with a pail of stones, might not creak, and partly because to do so seemed more fitting to the business in hand. We ran crouching49, thereby50 arousing the attention of206 old Mr. Branchett, who was training a Virginia creeper along his back fence.
“Hello, hello,” said he. “Pretty good runners for girls, seems to me.”
Wisconsin Street was a blaze of light. The ’buses were on their way from the “depots” to the hotels—nobody knew who might be in those ’buses. They were the nexus52 between us and the unguessed world. Strangers were on the streets. Everything was in motion. Before Morrison’s grocery they were burning rubbish, some boys from the other end of town were running unconcernedly through the flames, and the smell of the smoke set us tingling53. At the corner a man was pasting a circus bill—we stopped a moment to look down the throat of the hippopotamus54. Away up the street a band struck up, and we took hold of hands again, and ran.
We crossed the big square by the City Bank, under the hissing55 arc lamp. By the post-office a crowd of men and boys was standing56, and between the files young women whom we knew, wearing ribbons and feathers, were passing in207 and out of the office and laughing. Bard’s jewellery store was brilliant—it looked lighter57 than any other store with its window of dazzling cut glass and its wonderful wall of clocks whose pendulums58 never kept pace. In a saloon a piano was playing—we glanced in with a kind of joyous59 fear at the green screen beyond the door. We saw Alma Fremont, whose father kept a grocery store, standing in the store door with a stick of pink candy thrust in a lemon, and we thought on the joy of having a father who was a grocer. We longed to stare in the barber-shop window, and looked away. But our instinctive60 destination was the place before the Opera House, where the band was playing. We reached it, and stood packed in the crowd, close to the blare of the music, and shivered with delight.
“If only the fire-engine would come,” Mary Elizabeth breathed in my ear.
But in a little while the guffaws61, the jostling, the proximity62 of dirty coats, the odour of stale tobacco must have disturbed us, because gradually we edged a little away, and stood on the edge of the crowd, against an iron rail outside a billiard room. The band ceased, and went up208 into the hall. We had a distinct impulse to do the next thing. What was there to do next? What was it that the boys did when they went down town evenings? What else did they do while we were tidying our play-houses for the night? For here we were, longing63 for play, if only we could think what to do.
I felt a hand beneath my chin, lifting my face. There, in the press, stood my Father. Over his arm he carried my black jacket with the Bedford cord.
“Mother thought you might be cold,” he said.
I put on the jacket, and he took Mary Elizabeth and me by the hand, and we walked slowly back down Wisconsin Street.
“We will see Mary Elizabeth safely home first,” my Father said, and we accompanied her to the New Family’s door.
Once in our house, it was I who proposed going to bed, and the suggestion met with no opposition64. Upstairs, I slipped the screen from my window and leaned out in the dusk. The night, warm, fragrant65, significant, was inviting34 me to belong to it, was asking me, even as bright day had asked me, what it had in common with209 the stuffiness66 and dulness of forever watching others do things. Something hard touched my hand. It was my birthday dollar. It had not occurred to me to spend it.
I saw my Father stroll back down the street, lighting67 a cigar. Below stairs I could hear my Mother helping68 to put away the supper dishes. A dozen boys raced through the alley, just on their way down town. So long as they came home at a stated hour at night, and turned up at table with their hands clean, who asked them where they had been? “Where have you been?” they said to me, the moment I entered the house—and to Delia and Calista and Margaret Amelia and Betty. We had often talked about it. And none of us had even ridden on a load of hay. We had a vague expectation that it would be different when we grew up. A sickening thought came to me: Would it be different, or was this to be forever?
I ran blindly down the stairs where my Mother was helping to put away the supper dishes—in the magic of the night, helping to put away the supper dishes.
“Mother!” I cried, “Mother! Who made it so much harder to be a girl?”
210 She turned and looked at me, her face startled, and touched me—I remember how gently she touched me.
“Before you die,” she said, “it will be easier.”
I thought then that she meant that I would grow used to it. Now I know that she meant what I meant when I woke that night, and remembered my dolls lying out in the grass and the dew, and was not sorry, but glad: Glad that the time was almost come—for real playthings.
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1
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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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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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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latched
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| v.理解( latch的过去式和过去分词 )；纠缠；用碰锁锁上（门等）；附着（在某物上） | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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pickets
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| 罢工纠察员( picket的名词复数 ) | |
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agitating
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| 搅动( agitate的现在分词 )； 激怒； 使焦虑不安； （尤指为法律、社会状况的改变而）激烈争论 | |
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alluring
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| adj.吸引人的，迷人的 | |
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drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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pertaining
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| 与…有关系的，附属…的，为…固有的(to) | |
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waded
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| （从水、泥等）蹚，走过，跋( wade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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brilliance
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| n.光辉，辉煌，壮丽，（卓越的）才华，才智 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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precedent
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| n.先例，前例；惯例；adj.在前的，在先的 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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acorns
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| n.橡子，栎实( acorn的名词复数 ) | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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nemesis
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| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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stimulating
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| adj.有启发性的，能激发人思考的 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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pawns
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| n.（国际象棋中的）兵( pawn的名词复数 )；卒；被人利用的人；小卒v.典当，抵押( pawn的第三人称单数 )；以（某事物）担保 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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brigands
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| n.土匪，强盗( brigand的名词复数 ) | |
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smitten
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| 猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
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teeming
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| adj.丰富的v.充满( teem的现在分词 )；到处都是；（指水、雨等）暴降；倾注 | |
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invitingly
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| adv. 动人地 | |
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inviting
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| adj.诱人的，引人注目的 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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undesirability
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| n.不受欢迎 | |
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dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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lumbering
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| n.采伐林木 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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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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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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penance
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| n.（赎罪的）惩罪 | |
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crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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nexus
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| n.联系；关系 | |
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53
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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hippopotamus
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| n.河马 | |
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hissing
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| n. 发嘶嘶声, 蔑视 动词hiss的现在分词形式 | |
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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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57
lighter
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| n.打火机，点火器；驳船；v.用驳船运送；light的比较级 | |
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58
pendulums
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| n.摆，钟摆( pendulum的名词复数 )；摇摆不定的事态（或局面） | |
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59
joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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60
instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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61
guffaws
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| n.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的名词复数 )v.大笑，狂笑( guffaw的第三人称单数 ) | |
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62
proximity
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| n.接近，邻近 | |
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63
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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64
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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65
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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66
stuffiness
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| n.不通风，闷热；不通气 | |
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67
lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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