Toward the bereaved6 husband and his adopted son this was sympathetic. The woman had always been neurasthenic, slipshod, and impossible. With a wife to help him, Martin Quidmore could have been a success as a market gardener as easily as anybody else. As it was, he would get over the shock of this tragedy and find a woman who would be the right kind of mother to a growing boy. Here, the mention
[Pg 129]
of Bertha was with no more than the usual spice of village scandal, tolerant and unresentful.
Of all this Tom was aware chiefly through the observations of Blanche, the colored woman who came in by the day to do the housework.
"Law, Mr. Tom, yo' pappa don't need to feel so bad. Nobody in this yere town what blame him, not a little mite7. Po' Mis' Quidmo', nobody couldn't please her nohow. Don't I know? Ain't I wash her, and iron her, and do her housecleanin', ever since she come to this yere community, and Mr. Quidmo' he buy this yere lot off old Aaron Bidbury? No, suh! Nobody can't tell me! Them there giddy things what nobody can't please 'em they can't please theirselves, and some day they go to work and do somefin' despe'ate, just like po' Mis' Quidmo'. A little cup o' tea, she take. No mo'n that. See, boy! I keep that there brown teapot, what look as innocent as a baby, all the time incriminated to her memo'y."
Nevertheless, Tom found his father obsessed8 by fear, with nothing to be afraid of. The obsession9 had shown itself as soon as they entered the house on their return from Harfrey. He was afraid of the house, afraid of the kitchen especially. When Gimlets barked he jumped, cursing the dog for its noise. When a buggy drove up to the door he peeped out at the occupant before showing himself to the neighbor coming to offer his condolences. If the telephone rang Tom hastened to answer it, knowing that it set his father shivering.
As evening deepened on that first Wednesday, they kept out of doors as late as possible, the boy chatter10
[Pg 130]
ing to the best of his ability. When obliged to go in, Quidmore tried to say with solicitude11 on Tom's behalf:
"Expect you'll be lonesome now with only the two of us in the house. Better come and sleep in the other bed in my room."
The boy was about to reply that he was not lonesome, and preferred his own bed, when he caught the dread12 behind the invitation.
"All right, dad, I'll come. Sleep there every night. Then I won't be scared."
About two in the morning Tom was wakened by a shout. "Hell! Hell! Hell!"
Jumping from his own bed, he ran to the other. "Wake up, dad! Wake up!"
Ouidmore woke, confused and trembling. "Wha' matter?" His senses returning, he spoke13 more distinctly. "Must have had a nightmare. God! Turn on the light. Hate bein' in the dark. Now get back to bed. All right again."
The next day both were picking strawberries. It was not Quidmore's custom to pick strawberries, but he seemed to prefer a task at which he could crouch14, and be more or less out of sight. Happening to glance up, he saw a stranger coming round the duck pond.
"Who's that?" he snapped, in terror.
Tom ran to the stranger, interviewed him, and ran back again. "It's an agent for a new kind of fertilizer."
"Tell him I don't want it and to get to hell out of this."
[Pg 131]
"You'd better see him. He'll think it queer if you don't."
It was the spur he needed. He couldn't afford to be thought queer. He saw the agent, Tom acting15 as go-between and interpreter.
To act as go-between and interpreter became in a measure the boy's job. Being so near the holidays, he did not return to school, and freed from school, he could give all his time to helping16 the frightened creature to seem competent in the eyes of his customers and hired men. Not that he succeeded. None knew better than the hired men that the place was, as they put it, all in the soup; none were so quick to fall away as customers who were not getting what they wanted. When the house was tumbling about their heads one little boy's shoulder could not do much as a prop17; but what it could do he offered.
He offered it with a gravity at which the men laughed good-naturedly behind his back. They took his orders solemnly, and thought no more about them. For a whole week nothing went to market. The dealers18 whom they supplied complained by telephone. Billy Peet and himself got a load of "truck" into town, only to be told that their man had made other arrangements. To meet these conditions Quidmore had spurts19 of energy, from which he backed down gibbering.
Taking his courage in both hands, the boy went to see Bertha. Never having been face to face with her before, he found her of the type of beauty best appreciated where the taste is for the highly blown. She received him with haughty20 surprise and wonder, not
[Pg 132]
asking him to sit down. Having prepared his words, he recited them, though her attitude frightened him out of the man-of-the-world tone he had meant to adopt. Humbly21 and haltingly, he asked if she wouldn't come out and help to stiffen22 the old man.
"So he's sent you, has he? Well, you can go back and say that I've no reply except the one I've given him. All is over between us. Tell him that if he thinks that that was the way to win me he's very gravely mistook. I know what's happened as positive as if I was a jury, and I shall never pardon it. Silence I shall keep, but that is all he can ask of me. He's made me talked about when he shouldn't ought to ov, ignoring that a woman, and especially a widow—" her voice broke—"has nothing but her reputation. Go back and tell him that if he tries to force my door he'll find it double-barred against him."
Tom went back but said nothing. There was no need for him to say anything, since his life began at once to take another turn.
School holidays having begun, he was free in fact as well as in name. It was on a Thursday that his father came to him with the kind of proposal which always excites a small boy.
"Say, boy, what you think of a little trip down to Wilmington, Delaware, you and me? Go off to-morrow and get back by Tuesday. I'd see my sister, and it'd do me good."
The prospect23 seemed to have done him good already. A new life had come to him. He went about the place giving orders for the few days of his absence, with particular instructions to Diggory and
[Pg 133]
Blanche as to Geraldine, and the disposal of the milk. They started on their journey in the morning.
It was one of those mornings in June when every blessed and beautiful thing seems poured on the earth at once. As between five and six Billy Peet drove them over to take the train at Harfrey, light, birds, trees, flowers, meadows, dew, would have thrilled them to ecstasy24 if they had not been used to them. For the first time in weeks Tom saw his father smile. It was a smile of relief rather than of pleasure, but it was better than his look of woe25.
The journey wakened memories. Not since Mrs. Crewdson had brought him out to place him as a State ward5 with Mrs. Tollivant had he gone into the city by this route. He had gone in by the motor truck often enough; but this line that followed the river was haunted still by the things he had outlived. He was not sorry to have known them, though glad that they were gone. He was hardly sorry even for the present, though doubtful as to how it was going to turn out. Vaguely26 and not introspectively, he was shocked at himself, that he should be sitting there with a man who had done what he felt pretty sure this man had done, and that he should feel no horror. But he felt none. He assured himself of that. He could sleep with him by night, and work and eat with him by day, with no impulse but to shield a poor wretch27 who had made his own life such a misery28.
"I've got to do it," he said to himself, in a kind of self-defense. "I don't know he did it—not for sure, I don't. And if nobody else tries to find out, why should I, when he's been so awful nice to me?"
[Pg 134]
He watched a steamer plowing29 her way southward in the middle of the stream. He liked her air of quiet self-possession and of power. He wondered whence she was coming, whither she was going, and what she was doing it for. He couldn't guess.
"That'd be like me," he said, silently, "sailing from I don't know where—sailing to I don't know where——"
Ten years later he finished this thought, repeating exactly the same words. Just now he couldn't finish anything, because there was so much to see. Little towns perched above little harbors. Fishermen angled from little piers30. A group of naked boys, shameless as young mermen, played in the water. On a rock a few yards from the shore a flock of gulls31 jostled each other for standing32 room. A motor boat puffed33. Yachts rode sleepily at anchor. The car which, when they took it at Harfrey had been almost empty, was beginning to fill with the earlier hordes34 of commuters. Soon it was quite full. Soon there were cheery young people, most of them chewing gum, standing in the passageway. Having rounded the curve at Spuyten Duyvil, they saw the city looming35 up, white, spiritual, tremulous, through the morning mist.
Up to this minute he had not thought of plans; now he began to wonder what they should do on reaching the Grand Central, where they would arrive in another quarter of an hour.
"Do we go straight across to the Pennsylvania Station, to take the train for Wilmington, or do we have to wait?"
[Pg 135]
"I'll—I'll see."
The answer was unsatisfactory. He looked at his father inquiringly. Looking at him, he was hurt to observe that his confidence was departing, that he was again like something with a broken spring.
"Well, we're going to Wilmington to-day, aren't we?"
"I'll—I'll see."
"But," the boy cried in alarm, "where can we go, if we don't?"
"I—I know a place."
It was disappointing. The choking sensation which, when he was younger, used to precede tears, began to gather in his throat. Having heard so much from Mrs. Quidmore of the glories of Wilmington, Delaware, he saw it as a city of palaces, of exquisite36, ladylike maidens37, of noble youths, of aristocratic joyousness38. Moreover, he had been told that to get there you went under the river, through a tunnel so deep down in the earth that you felt a distressful40 throbbing41 in the head. The postponement42 of these experiences even for a day was hard to submit to.
In the Grand Central his father was in a mood he had never before seen. It was a dark mood, at once decided43 and secretive.
"Come this way."
This way was out into Forty-second Street. With their suitcases in their hands, they climbed into a street car going westward44. Westward they went, changing to another car going southward, under the thunder of the elevated, in Ninth Avenue. At Fourteenth Street they got out again. Tom recognized the neighbor
[Pg 136]
hood45 because of its nearness to the great markets to which they sometimes brought supplies. But they avoided the markets, making their way between drays, round buildings in course of demolition46, through gangs of children wooing disaster as they played in the streets. In the end they turned out of the tumult47 to find themselves in a placid48 little backwater of the "old New York" of the early nineteenth century. Reading the sign at the corner Tom saw that it was Jane Street.
Jane Street dates from a period earlier than the development of that civic49 taste which gives to all New York north of Fourteenth Street the picturesqueness50 of a sum in simple arithmetic. Jane Street has atmosphere, period, chic51. You know at a glance that the people who built these trim little red-brick houses still felt that impulse which first came to Manhattan from The Hague, to be fostered later by William and Mary, and finally merged52 in the Georgian tradition. Jane Street is Dutch. It has Dutch quaintness53, and, as far as New York will permit it, Dutch cleanliness. It might be a byway in Amsterdam. Instead of cutting straight from the Hudson River Docks to Greenwich Avenue, it might run from a canal with barges54 on it to a field of hyacinths in bloom.
But Tom Quidmore saw not what you and I would have seen, a relief from the noise and fetidness of a hot summer's morning in a neighborhood reeking55 with garbage. When his heart had been fixed56 on that dream-city, Wilmington, Delaware, he found himself in a dingy57 little alley58. Not often querulous, he became so now.
[Pg 137]
"What are we doing down here?"
The reply startled him. "I'm—I'm sick."
Looking again at the man who shuffled59 along beside him, he saw that his face had grown ashy, while his eyes, which earlier in the day had had life in them, were lusterless. The boy would have been frightened had it not been for the impulse of affection.
"Let's go back to Bere. Then you can have the doctor. I'll get a cab and steer60 the whole business."
Without answering, Quidmore stopped at a brown door, level with the pavement, in a big, dim-windowed building, with fire escapes zigzagging61 down the front. Jane Street is not exclusively clean and trim and Dutch. It has lapses—here a warehouse62, there a dwelling63 tumbling to decay, elsewhere a nondescript structure like this. It looked like a lodging64 house for sailors and dock laborers65. In the basement was a restaurant to which you went down by steps, and bearing the legend Pappa's Chop Saloon.
While Quidmore stood in doubt as to whether to ring the bell or to push the door which already stood a little open, two men came out of the Chop Saloon and began to mount the steps. In faded blue overalls66 the worse for wear, they had plainly broken a day's work, possibly begun at five o'clock, for a late breakfast. The one in advance, a sturdy, well-knit fellow of forty or forty-five, got a sinister67 expression from a black patch over his left eye. His companion was older, smaller, more worn by a bitter life. All the twists in his figure, all the soured betrayals in his crafty68 face, showed you the habitual69 criminal.
None of these details was visible to Quidmore,
[Pg 138]
because his imagination could see only the bed for which he was craving70. To the boy, who trusted everyone, they were no more than the common type of workman he was used to meeting in the markets. The fellow with the patch on his eye, making an estimate of the strangers as he mounted the steps, spoke cheerily.
"I say, mate, what can I do for yer?"
The voice with a vaguely English ring was not ungenial. Not ungenial, when you looked at it, was the strongly-boned face, with a ruddiness burnt to a coarse tan. The single gray-blue eye had the sympathetic gleam which often helps roguery to make itself excusable to people with a sense of fun.
Quidmore muttered something about wanting to see Mrs. Pappa.
"Right you are! Come along o' me. I'll dig the old gal4 out for yer. Expects you wants a room for yerself and the kid. Hi, Pappa!"
Pappa came out of a dim, musty parlor72 as the witch who foretells73 bad weather appears in a mechanical barometer74. She was like a witch, but a dark, classic witch, with an immemorial tradition behind her. Her ancestors might have fought at Marathon, or sacrificed to Neptune75 in the temple on Sunium. In Jane Street she was archaic76, a survival from antiquity77. Her thoughts must have been with the nymphs at Delphi, or following the triremes carrying the warriors78 from Argolis to Troy, as silent, mysterious, fateful, she led the way upstairs.
They followed in procession, all four of them. The doorstep acquaintances displayed a solicitude not less
[Pg 139]
than brotherly. The hall was without furniture, the stairs without carpet. The softwood floors, like the treads of the stairs, were splintered with the usage of many heavy heels. Where the walls bulged79, through the pressure of jerry-built stories overhead, the marbled paper swelled80 into bosses. Tom found it impressive, with something of strange stateliness.
"Yer'll be from the country," the one-eyed fellow observed, as they climbed upward.
"Yes, sir," Tom answered, civilly. "We're on our way to Wilmington, Delaware, but my father felt a little sick."
"Well, he's struck a good place to lay up in. I say, Pappa," he called ahead, "seems to me as the big room with two beds'd be what'd suit the gent. It's next door to the barthroom, and he'll find that convenient. Mate," he explained further, when they stood within the room with two beds, "this'll set ye' back a dollar a day in advance. That right, Pappa, ain't it?"
Pappa assenting81 with some antique sign, Quidmore drew out his pocketbook to extract the dollar. With no ceremonious scruples82 the smaller comrade craned his neck to appraise83, as far as possible, the contents of the wallet.
"Wad," Tom heard him squirt out of the corner of his mouth, in the whisper of a ventriloquist.
His friend seemed to wink84 behind the patch on his left eye. Tom took the exchange of confidence as a token of respect. He and his father were considered rich, the effect being seen in the attentions accorded them. This was further borne out when the genial71
[Pg 140]
one of the two rogues85 turned on the threshold, as his colleague was following Pappa downstairs.
"Anythink I can do for yer, mate, command me. Name of Honeybun—Lemuel Honeybun. Honey Lem some of the guys calls me. I answers to it, not takin' no offense86 like." He pointed87 to the figure stumping88 down the stairs. "My friend, Mr. Goodsir. Him and me been pals89 this two year. We lives on the ground floor. Room back of Pappa."
The door closed, Tom looked round him in an interest which eclipsed his hopes of the tunnel. This was adventure. It was nearly romance. Never before had he stayed in a hotel. The place was not luxurious90, but never, in the life he could remember, having known anything but necessity, necessity was enough. Moreover, the room contained a work of art that touched his imagination. On the bare drab mantelpiece stood the head of a Red Indian, in plaster painted in bronze, not unlike the mummified head of Rameses the Great. The boy couldn't take his eye away from it. This was what you got by visiting strange cities more intimately than by trucking to and from the markets.
Quidmore threw himself on his bed, his face buried in the meager91 pillow. He was suffering apparently92 not from pain, but from some more subtle form of distress39. Being told that there was nothing he could do for the invalid93, Tom sat silent and still on one of the two small chairs which helped out the furnishings. It was not boring for him to do this, because he swam in novelty. He recalled the steamer he had seen that morning, sailing from he didn't know where,
[Pg 141]
sailing to he didn't know where, but on the way. He, too, was on the way. He was on the way to something different from Wilmington, Delaware. It would be different from Bere. He began to wonder if he should ever go back to Bere. If he didn't go back to Bere ... but at this point in Tom's dreams Quidmore dragged himself off the bed.
"Let's go down to the chop saloon, and eat."
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收听单词发音
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1
preoccupied
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| adj.全神贯注的，入神的；被抢先占有的；心事重重的v.占据（某人）思想，使对…全神贯注，使专心于( preoccupy的过去式) | |
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2
bucking
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| v.（马等）猛然弓背跃起( buck的现在分词 )；抵制；猛然震荡；马等尥起后蹄跳跃 | |
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3
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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gal
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| n.姑娘，少女 | |
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ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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6
bereaved
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| adj.刚刚丧失亲人的v.使失去（希望、生命等）( bereave的过去式和过去分词)；（尤指死亡）使丧失（亲人、朋友等）；使孤寂；抢走（财物） | |
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mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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obsession
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| n.困扰，无法摆脱的思想(或情感) | |
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10
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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11
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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12
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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13
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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14
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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dealers
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| n.商人( dealer的名词复数 )；贩毒者；毒品贩子；发牌者 | |
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spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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24
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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plowing
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| v.耕( plow的现在分词 )；犁耕；费力穿过 | |
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piers
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| n.水上平台( pier的名词复数 )；（常设有娱乐场所的）突堤；柱子；墙墩 | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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35
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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maidens
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| 处女( maiden的名词复数 )； 少女； 未婚女子； （板球运动）未得分的一轮投球 | |
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joyousness
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| 快乐，使人喜悦 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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distressful
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| adj.苦难重重的，不幸的，使苦恼的 | |
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throbbing
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| a. 跳动的,悸动的 | |
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postponement
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| n.推迟 | |
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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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westward
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| n.西方，西部；adj.西方的，向西的；adv.向西 | |
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hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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demolition
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| n.破坏,毁坏,毁坏之遗迹 | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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civic
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| adj.城市的，都市的，市民的，公民的 | |
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picturesqueness
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chic
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| n./adj.别致(的)，时髦(的)，讲究的 | |
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merged
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| （使）混合( merge的过去式和过去分词 )； 相融； 融入； 渐渐消失在某物中 | |
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quaintness
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| n.离奇有趣，古怪的事物 | |
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barges
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| 驳船( barge的名词复数 ) | |
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reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；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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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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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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zigzagging
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| v.弯弯曲曲地走路，曲折地前进( zigzag的现在分词 )；盘陀 | |
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warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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lodging
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| n.寄宿，住所；(大学生的)校外宿舍 | |
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laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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crafty
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| adj.狡猾的，诡诈的 | |
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habitual
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| adj.习惯性的；通常的，惯常的 | |
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craving
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| n.渴望,热望 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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foretells
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的第三人称单数 ) | |
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barometer
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| n.气压表，睛雨表，反应指标 | |
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Neptune
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| n.海王星 | |
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archaic
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| adj.(语言、词汇等)古代的，已不通用的 | |
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antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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assenting
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| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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appraise
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| v.估价，评价，鉴定 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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rogues
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| n.流氓( rogue的名词复数 )；无赖；调皮捣蛋的人；离群的野兽 | |
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offense
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| n.犯规，违法行为；冒犯，得罪 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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stumping
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| 僵直地行走，跺步行走( stump的现在分词 )； 把（某人）难住； 使为难； （选举前）在某一地区作政治性巡回演说 | |
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pals
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| n.朋友( pal的名词复数 )；老兄；小子；（对男子的不友好的称呼）家伙 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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meager
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| adj.缺乏的，不足的，瘦的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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