It was a small open space in one of the streets of Whitechapel, where there was an area of flags, lying off the pavement. Several traders held possession of this square, sitting on low stools, or cross-legged on the ground, with their stock in trade around them. One dealer1 bought and sold all kinds of old and rusty2 pieces of iron; another, a woman, ill clad and with red eyes, displayed before her a dingy3 assortment4 of ragged5 clothes, which were cheapened by other spare and red-eyed women, who held almost naked children by the hand. It was cold, and a bitter, keen east wind was searching every corner of London streets. The salesman Tony was come to deal with had a tolerable selection of old boots, very few of them pairs, some with pretty good upper-leathers, but with no soles worth speaking of; and others thickly cobbled and patched, but good enough to keep the feet dry, without presenting a very creditable appearance. For the first time in his life Tony found out the perplexity of having a choice to make. There were none which exactly fitted him; but a good fit is a luxury for richer folks than Tony, and he was not troubled about it. His chief anxiety was to look well in the eyes of Dolly's aunt, who might possibly let him see her on her way back to the station, if she approved of him; and who would not now be obliged to carry Dolly off with her, to be out of the way of his naked feet.
He fixed6 upon a pair at last, urged and coaxed7 to them by the dealer. They were a good deal too large, and his feet slipped about in them uncomfortably; but the man assured him that was how everybody, even gentlefolks, bought them, to leave room for growing. There was an awkward, uneven8 patch under one of the soles, and the other heel was worn down at the side; but at least they covered his feet well. He shambled away in them slowly and toilsomely, hardly knowing how to lift one foot after another, yet full of pride in his new possessions. It was a long way home to old Oliver's alley9, between Holborn and the Strand10; but he was in no hurry to arrive there before they had finished and cleared away their tea; so he travelled painfully in that direction, stopping now and then to regale11 himself at the attractive windows of tripe12 and cow-heel shops. He watched the lamplighters kindling13 the lamps, and the shopkeepers lighting14 up their gas; and then he heard the great solemn clock of St. Paul's strike six. Tea would be quite over now, and Tony turned down a narrow back street, which would prove a nearer way home than the thronged15 thoroughfares, and set off to run as fast as he could in his awkward and unaccustomed boots.
It was not long before he came to a sudden and sharp fall off the kerb-stone, as he trod upon a bit of orange-peel, and slipped upon it. He felt stunned16 for a few seconds, and sat still rubbing his forehead. These back streets were very quiet, for the buildings were mostly offices and warehouses18, and most of them were already closed for the night. He lifted himself up at length, and set his foot upon the flags; but a shrill19 cry of pain broke from his lips, and rang loudly through the quiet street. He fell back upon the pavement, quivering and trembling, with a chilly20 moisture breaking out upon his skin. What hurt had been done to him? How was it that he could not bear to walk? He took off his new boots, and tried once more, but with no better success. He could not endure the agony of standing21 or moving.
Yet he must move; he must get up and walk. If he did not go home, they would think he had run away again, for fear of meeting Dolly's aunt. At that thought he set off to crawl homewards upon his hands and knees, with suppressed groans22, as his foot trailed uselessly along the ground. Yet he knew he could not advance very far in this manner. What if he should have to lie all night upon the hard paving-stones! for he could not remember ever having seen a policeman in these back streets: and there did not seem to be anybody else likely to pass that way. It was freezing fast, now the sun was gone down, and his hands scraped up the frosty mud as he dragged himself along. If he stayed out all night, he must die of cold and pain before morning.
But if that was true which old Oliver said so often, that the Lord Jesus Christ loved him, and that he was always with those whom he loved, then he was not alone and helpless even here, in the deserted23 street, with the ice and darkness of a winter's night about him. Oh! if he could but feel the hand of Christ touching24 him, or hear the lowest whisper of his voice, or catch the dimmest sight of his face! Perhaps it was he who was helping25 him to crawl towards the stir and light of a more frequented street, which he could see afar off, though the pain he felt made him giddy and sick. It became too much for him at last, however, and he drew himself into the shelter of a warehouse17 door, and crouched26 down in a corner, crying, with clasped hands, and sobbing27 voice, "Oh! Lord Jesus Christ! Lord Jesus Christ!"
After uttering this cry Tony lay there for some minutes, his eyes growing glazed28 and his ears dull, when a footstep came briskly up the street, and some one, whom he could not now see for the strange dimness of his sight, stopped opposite to him, and then stooped to touch him on the arm.
"Why," said a voice he seemed to know, "you're my young friend of the crossing,—my little fourpenny-bit, I call you. What brings you sitting here this cold night?"
"I've fell down and hurt myself," answered Tony, faintly.
"Where?" asked the stranger.
"My leg," he answered.
The gentleman stooped down yet lower, and passed his hand gently along Tony's leg till he came to the place where his touch gave him the most acute pain.
"Broken!" he said to himself. "My boy, where's your home?"
"I haven't got any right home," answered Tony, more faintly than before. He felt a strange numbness29 creeping over him, and his lips were too parched30 and his tongue too heavy for speaking. The gentleman took off his own great-coat and wrapped it well about him, placing him at the same time in a more comfortable position. Then he ran quickly to the nearest street, hailed the first cab, and drove back to where Tony was lying.
TONY'S ACCIDENT.
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1
dealer
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| n.商人，贩子 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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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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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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uneven
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| adj.不平坦的，不规则的，不均匀的 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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regale
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| v.取悦，款待 | |
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tripe
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| n.废话，肚子, 内脏 | |
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13
kindling
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| n. 点火, 可燃物 动词kindle的现在分词形式 | |
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lighting
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| n.照明，光线的明暗，舞台灯光 | |
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15
thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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17
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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warehouses
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| 仓库，货栈( warehouse的名词复数 ) | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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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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groans
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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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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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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28
glazed
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| adj.光滑的，像玻璃的；上过釉的；呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式)；上釉于，上光；（目光）变得呆滞无神 | |
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29
numbness
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| n.无感觉，麻木，惊呆 | |
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parched
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| adj.焦干的；极渴的；v.（使）焦干 | |
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