“It’s the homiest spot I ever saw—it’s homier than home,” avowed1 Philippa Gordon, looking about her with delighted eyes. They were all assembled at twilight3 in the big living-room at Patty’s Place—Anne and Priscilla, Phil and Stella, Aunt Jamesina, Rusty4, Joseph, the Sarah-Cat, and Gog and Magog. The firelight shadows were dancing over the walls; the cats were purring; and a huge bowl of hothouse chrysanthemums5, sent to Phil by one of the victims, shone through the golden gloom like creamy moons.
It was three weeks since they had considered themselves settled, and already all believed the experiment would be a success. The first fortnight after their return had been a pleasantly exciting one; they had been busy setting up their household goods, organizing their little establishment, and adjusting different opinions.
Anne was not over-sorry to leave Avonlea when the time came to return to college. The last few days of her vacation had not been pleasant. Her prize story had been published in the Island papers; and Mr. William Blair had, upon the counter of his store, a huge pile of pink, green and yellow pamphlets, containing it, one of which he gave to every customer. He sent a complimentary6 bundle to Anne, who promptly7 dropped them all in the kitchen stove. Her humiliation8 was the consequence of her own ideals only, for Avonlea folks thought it quite splendid that she should have won the prize. Her many friends regarded her with honest admiration9; her few foes10 with scornful envy. Josie Pye said she believed Anne Shirley had just copied the story; she was sure she remembered reading it in a paper years before. The Sloanes, who had found out or guessed that Charlie had been “turned down,” said they didn’t think it was much to be proud of; almost any one could have done it, if she tried. Aunt Atossa told Anne she was very sorry to hear she had taken to writing novels; nobody born and bred in Avonlea would do it; that was what came of adopting orphans11 from goodness knew where, with goodness knew what kind of parents. Even Mrs. Rachel Lynde was darkly dubious12 about the propriety13 of writing fiction, though she was almost reconciled to it by that twenty-five dollar check.
“It is perfectly14 amazing, the price they pay for such lies, that’s what,” she said, half-proudly, half-severely15.
All things considered, it was a relief when going-away time came. And it was very jolly to be back at Redmond, a wise, experienced Soph with hosts of friends to greet on the merry opening day. Pris and Stella and Gilbert were there, Charlie Sloane, looking more important than ever a Sophomore16 looked before, Phil, with the Alec-and-Alonzo question still unsettled, and Moody17 Spurgeon MacPherson. Moody Spurgeon had been teaching school ever since leaving Queen’s, but his mother had concluded it was high time he gave it up and turned his attention to learning how to be a minister. Poor Moody Spurgeon fell on hard luck at the very beginning of his college career. Half a dozen ruthless Sophs, who were among his fellow-boarders, swooped18 down upon him one night and shaved half of his head. In this guise19 the luckless Moody Spurgeon had to go about until his hair grew again. He told Anne bitterly that there were times when he had his doubts as to whether he was really called to be a minister.
Aunt Jamesina did not come until the girls had Patty’s Place ready for her. Miss Patty had sent the key to Anne, with a letter in which she said Gog and Magog were packed in a box under the spare-room bed, but might be taken out when wanted; in a postscript20 she added that she hoped the girls would be careful about putting up pictures. The living room had been newly papered five years before and she and Miss Maria did not want any more holes made in that new paper than was absolutely necessary. For the rest she trusted everything to Anne.
How those girls enjoyed putting their nest in order! As Phil said, it was almost as good as getting married. You had the fun of homemaking without the bother of a husband. All brought something with them to adorn21 or make comfortable the little house. Pris and Phil and Stella had knick-knacks and pictures galore, which latter they proceeded to hang according to taste, in reckless disregard of Miss Patty’s new paper.
“We’ll putty the holes up when we leave, dear—she’ll never know,” they said to protesting Anne.
Diana had given Anne a pine needle cushion and Miss Ada had given both her and Priscilla a fearfully and wonderfully embroidered23 one. Marilla had sent a big box of preserves, and darkly hinted at a hamper24 for Thanksgiving, and Mrs. Lynde gave Anne a patchwork25 quilt and loaned her five more.
“You take them,” she said authoritatively26. “They might as well be in use as packed away in that trunk in the garret for moths27 to gnaw28.”
No moths would ever have ventured near those quilts, for they reeked29 of mothballs to such an extent that they had to be hung in the orchard30 of Patty’s Place a full fortnight before they could be endured indoors. Verily, aristocratic Spofford Avenue had rarely beheld31 such a display. The gruff old millionaire who lived “next door” came over and wanted to buy the gorgeous red and yellow “tulip-pattern” one which Mrs. Rachel had given Anne. He said his mother used to make quilts like that, and by Jove, he wanted one to remind him of her. Anne would not sell it, much to his disappointment, but she wrote all about it to Mrs. Lynde. That highly-gratified lady sent word back that she had one just like it to spare, so the tobacco king got his quilt after all, and insisted on having it spread on his bed, to the disgust of his fashionable wife.
Mrs. Lynde’s quilts served a very useful purpose that winter. Patty’s Place for all its many virtues32, had its faults also. It was really a rather cold house; and when the frosty nights came the girls were very glad to snuggle down under Mrs. Lynde’s quilts, and hoped that the loan of them might be accounted unto her for righteousness. Anne had the blue room she had coveted33 at sight. Priscilla and Stella had the large one. Phil was blissfully content with the little one over the kitchen; and Aunt Jamesina was to have the downstairs one off the living-room. Rusty at first slept on the doorstep.
Anne, walking home from Redmond a few days after her return, became aware that the people that she met surveyed her with a covert34, indulgent smile. Anne wondered uneasily what was the matter with her. Was her hat crooked35? Was her belt loose? Craning her head to investigate, Anne, for the first time, saw Rusty.
Trotting36 along behind her, close to her heels, was quite the most forlorn specimen37 of the cat tribe she had ever beheld. The animal was well past kitten-hood, lank38, thin, disreputable looking. Pieces of both ears were lacking, one eye was temporarily out of repair, and one jowl ludicrously swollen39. As for color, if a once black cat had been well and thoroughly40 singed41 the result would have resembled the hue42 of this waif’s thin, draggled, unsightly fur.
Anne “shooed,” but the cat would not “shoo.” As long as she stood he sat back on his haunches and gazed at her reproachfully out of his one good eye; when she resumed her walk he followed. Anne resigned herself to his company until she reached the gate of Patty’s Place, which she coldly shut in his face, fondly supposing she had seen the last of him. But when, fifteen minutes later, Phil opened the door, there sat the rusty-brown cat on the step. More, he promptly darted43 in and sprang upon Anne’s lap with a half-pleading, half-triumphant “miaow.”
“Anne,” said Stella severely, “do you own that animal?”
“No, I do NOT,” protested disgusted Anne. “The creature followed me home from somewhere. I couldn’t get rid of him. Ugh, get down. I like decent cats reasonably well; but I don’t like beasties of your complexion44.”
“He has evidently adopted you,” laughed Priscilla.
“I won’t BE adopted,” said Anne stubbornly.
“The poor creature is starving,” said Phil pityingly. “Why, his bones are almost coming through his skin.”
“Well, I’ll give him a square meal and then he must return to whence he came,” said Anne resolutely46.
The cat was fed and put out. In the morning he was still on the doorstep. On the doorstep he continued to sit, bolting in whenever the door was opened. No coolness of welcome had the least effect on him; of nobody save Anne did he take the least notice. Out of compassion47 the girls fed him; but when a week had passed they decided48 that something must be done. The cat’s appearance had improved. His eye and cheek had resumed their normal appearance; he was not quite so thin; and he had been seen washing his face.
“But for all that we can’t keep him,” said Stella. “Aunt Jimsie is coming next week and she will bring the Sarah-cat with her. We can’t keep two cats; and if we did this Rusty Coat would fight all the time with the Sarah-cat. He’s a fighter by nature. He had a pitched battle last evening with the tobacco-king’s cat and routed him, horse, foot and artillery49.”
“We must get rid of him,” agreed Anne, looking darkly at the subject of their discussion, who was purring on the hearth50 rug with an air of lamb-like meekness52. “But the question is—how? How can four unprotected females get rid of a cat who won’t be got rid of?”
“Who of us knows anything about chloroforming a cat?” demanded Anne gloomily.
“I do, honey. It’s one of my few—sadly few—useful accomplishments54. I’ve disposed of several at home. You take the cat in the morning and give him a good breakfast. Then you take an old burlap bag—there’s one in the back porch—put the cat on it and turn over him a wooden box. Then take a two-ounce bottle of chloroform, uncork it, and slip it under the edge of the box. Put a heavy weight on top of the box and leave it till evening. The cat will be dead, curled up peacefully as if he were asleep. No pain—no struggle.”
“It IS easy. Just leave it to me. I’ll see to it,” said Phil reassuringly56.
Accordingly the chloroform was procured57, and the next morning Rusty was lured58 to his doom59. He ate his breakfast, licked his chops, and climbed into Anne’s lap. Anne’s heart misgave60 her. This poor creature loved her—trusted her. How could she be a party to this destruction?
“Here, take him,” she said hastily to Phil. “I feel like a murderess.”
“He won’t suffer, you know,” comforted Phil, but Anne had fled.
The fatal deed was done in the back porch. Nobody went near it that day. But at dusk Phil declared that Rusty must be buried.
“Pris and Stella must dig his grave in the orchard,” declared Phil, “and Anne must come with me to lift the box off. That’s the part I always hate.”
The two conspirators61 tip-toed reluctantly to the back porch. Phil gingerly lifted the stone she had put on the box. Suddenly, faint but distinct, sounded an unmistakable mew under the box.
“He must be,” said Phil incredulously.
Another tiny mew proved that he wasn’t. The two girls stared at each other.
“What will we do?” questioned Anne.
“Why in the world don’t you come?” demanded Stella, appearing in the doorway63. “We’ve got the grave ready. ‘What silent still and silent all?’” she quoted teasingly.
“‘Oh, no, the voices of the dead Sound like the distant torrent’s fall,’” promptly counter-quoted Anne, pointing solemnly to the box.
A burst of laughter broke the tension.
“We must leave him here till morning,” said Phil, replacing the stone. “He hasn’t mewed for five minutes. Perhaps the mews we heard were his dying groan64. Or perhaps we merely imagined them, under the strain of our guilty consciences.”
But, when the box was lifted in the morning, Rusty bounded at one gay leap to Anne’s shoulder where he began to lick her face affectionately. Never was there a cat more decidedly alive.
“Here’s a knot hole in the box,” groaned65 Phil. “I never saw it. That’s why he didn’t die. Now, we’ve got to do it all over again.”
“No, we haven’t,” declared Anne suddenly. “Rusty isn’t going to be killed again. He’s my cat—and you’ve just got to make the best of it.”
“Oh, well, if you’ll settle with Aunt Jimsie and the Sarah-cat,” said Stella, with the air of one washing her hands of the whole affair.
From that time Rusty was one of the family. He slept o’nights on the scrubbing cushion in the back porch and lived on the fat of the land. By the time Aunt Jamesina came he was plump and glossy66 and tolerably respectable. But, like Kipling’s cat, he “walked by himself.” His paw was against every cat, and every cat’s paw against him. One by one he vanquished67 the aristocratic felines68 of Spofford Avenue. As for human beings, he loved Anne and Anne alone. Nobody else even dared stroke him. An angry spit and something that sounded much like very improper69 language greeted any one who did.
“The airs that cat puts on are perfectly intolerable,” declared Stella.
“Well, I don’t know how he and the Sarah-cat will ever make out to live together,” said Stella pesimistically. “Cat-fights in the orchard o’nights are bad enough. But cat-fights here in the livingroom are unthinkable.” In due time Aunt Jamesina arrived. Anne and Priscilla and Phil had awaited her advent72 rather dubiously; but when Aunt Jamesina was enthroned in the rocking chair before the open fire they figuratively bowed down and worshipped her.
Aunt Jamesina was a tiny old woman with a little, softly-triangular face, and large, soft blue eyes that were alight with unquenchable youth, and as full of hopes as a girl’s. She had pink cheeks and snow-white hair which she wore in quaint73 little puffs74 over her ears.
“It’s a very old-fashioned way,” she said, knitting industriously75 at something as dainty and pink as a sunset cloud. “But I am old-fashioned. My clothes are, and it stands to reason my opinions are, too. I don’t say they’re any the better of that, mind you. In fact, I daresay they’re a good deal the worse. But they’ve worn nice and easy. New shoes are smarter than old ones, but the old ones are more comfortable. I’m old enough to indulge myself in the matter of shoes and opinions. I mean to take it real easy here. I know you expect me to look after you and keep you proper, but I’m not going to do it. You’re old enough to know how to behave if you’re ever going to be. So, as far as I am concerned,” concluded Aunt Jamesina, with a twinkle in her young eyes, “you can all go to destruction in your own way.”
“Oh, will somebody separate those cats?” pleaded Stella, shudderingly76.
Aunt Jamesina had brought with her not only the Sarah-cat but Joseph. Joseph, she explained, had belonged to a dear friend of hers who had gone to live in Vancouver.
“She couldn’t take Joseph with her so she begged me to take him. I really couldn’t refuse. He’s a beautiful cat—that is, his disposition77 is beautiful. She called him Joseph because his coat is of many colors.”
It certainly was. Joseph, as the disgusted Stella said, looked like a walking rag-bag. It was impossible to say what his ground color was. His legs were white with black spots on them. His back was gray with a huge patch of yellow on one side and a black patch on the other. His tail was yellow with a gray tip. One ear was black and one yellow. A black patch over one eye gave him a fearfully rakish look. In reality he was meek51 and inoffensive, of a sociable78 disposition. In one respect, if in no other, Joseph was like a lily of the field. He toiled79 not neither did he spin or catch mice. Yet Solomon in all his glory slept not on softer cushions, or feasted more fully22 on fat things.
Joseph and the Sarah-cat arrived by express in separate boxes. After they had been released and fed, Joseph selected the cushion and corner which appealed to him, and the Sarah-cat gravely sat herself down before the fire and proceeded to wash her face. She was a large, sleek80, gray-and-white cat, with an enormous dignity which was not at all impaired81 by any consciousness of her plebian origin. She had been given to Aunt Jamesina by her washerwoman.
“Her name was Sarah, so my husband always called puss the Sarah-cat,” explained Aunt Jamesina. “She is eight years old, and a remarkable82 mouser. Don’t worry, Stella. The Sarah-cat NEVER fights and Joseph rarely.”
“They’ll have to fight here in self-defense,” said Stella.
At this juncture83 Rusty arrived on the scene. He bounded joyously84 half way across the room before he saw the intruders. Then he stopped short; his tail expanded until it was as big as three tails. The fur on his back rose up in a defiant70 arch; Rusty lowered his head, uttered a fearful shriek85 of hatred86 and defiance87, and launched himself at the Sarah-cat.
The stately animal had stopped washing her face and was looking at him curiously88. She met his onslaught with one contemptuous sweep of her capable paw. Rusty went rolling helplessly over on the rug; he picked himself up dazedly89. What sort of a cat was this who had boxed his ears? He looked dubiously at the Sarah-cat. Would he or would he not? The Sarah-cat deliberately90 turned her back on him and resumed her toilet operations. Rusty decided that he would not. He never did. From that time on the Sarah-cat ruled the roost. Rusty never again interfered91 with her.
But Joseph rashly sat up and yawned. Rusty, burning to avenge92 his disgrace, swooped down upon him. Joseph, pacific by nature, could fight upon occasion and fight well. The result was a series of drawn93 battles. Every day Rusty and Joseph fought at sight. Anne took Rusty’s part and detested94 Joseph. Stella was in despair. But Aunt Jamesina only laughed.
“Let them fight it out,” she said tolerantly. “They’ll make friends after a bit. Joseph needs some exercise—he was getting too fat. And Rusty has to learn he isn’t the only cat in the world.”
Eventually Joseph and Rusty accepted the situation and from sworn enemies became sworn friends. They slept on the same cushion with their paws about each other, and gravely washed each other’s faces.
“We’ve all got used to each other,” said Phil. “And I’ve learned how to wash dishes and sweep a floor.”
“But you needn’t try to make us believe you can chloroform a cat,” laughed Anne.
“It was all the fault of the knothole,” protested Phil.
“It was a good thing the knothole was there,” said Aunt Jamesina rather severely. “Kittens HAVE to be drowned, I admit, or the world would be overrun. But no decent, grown-up cat should be done to death—unless he sucks eggs.”
“You wouldn’t have thought Rusty very decent if you’d seen him when he came here,” said Stella. “He positively95 looked like the Old Nick.”
“I don’t believe Old Nick can be so very, ugly” said Aunt Jamesina reflectively. “He wouldn’t do so much harm if he was. I always think of him as a rather handsome gentleman.”
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1
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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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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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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chrysanthemums
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| n.菊花( chrysanthemum的名词复数 ) | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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orphans
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| 孤儿( orphan的名词复数 ) | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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propriety
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| n.正当行为；正当；适当 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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sophomore
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| n.大学二年级生；adj.第二年的 | |
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moody
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| adj.心情不稳的，易怒的，喜怒无常的 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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postscript
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| n.附言，又及；(正文后的)补充说明 | |
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adorn
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| vt.使美化，装饰 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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patchwork
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| n.混杂物；拼缝物 | |
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authoritatively
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| 命令式地，有权威地，可信地 | |
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moths
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| n.蛾( moth的名词复数 ) | |
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gnaw
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| v.不断地啃、咬；使苦恼，折磨 | |
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reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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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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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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coveted
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| adj.令人垂涎的；垂涎的，梦寐以求的v.贪求，觊觎(covet的过去分词)；垂涎；贪图 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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crooked
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| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
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trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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specimen
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| n.样本，标本 | |
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lank
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| adj.瘦削的；稀疏的 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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singed
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| v.浅表烧焦( singe的过去式和过去分词 )；（毛发）燎，烧焦尖端[边儿] | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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compassion
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| n.同情，怜悯 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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artillery
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| n.(军)火炮，大炮；炮兵(部队) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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51
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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meekness
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| n.温顺，柔和 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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accomplishments
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| n.造诣；完成( accomplishment的名词复数 )；技能；成绩；成就 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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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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doom
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| n.厄运，劫数；v.注定，命定 | |
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misgave
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| v.使（某人的情绪、精神等）疑虑，担忧，害怕( misgive的过去式 ) | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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felines
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| n.猫科动物( feline的名词复数 ) | |
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improper
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| adj.不适当的，不合适的，不正确的，不合礼仪的 | |
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defiant
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| adj.无礼的，挑战的 | |
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defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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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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puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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industriously
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shudderingly
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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impaired
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| adj.受损的；出毛病的；有（身体或智力）缺陷的v.损害，削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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juncture
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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dazedly
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| 头昏眼花地，眼花缭乱地，茫然地 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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avenge
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| v.为...复仇，为...报仇 | |
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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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detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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