"Pretty Polly Oliver, my hope and my fear,
Pretty Polly Oliver, I've loved you so dear!"
DINAH MARIA MULOCK.
"I have determined1 only one thing definitely," said Polly Oliver; "and that is, the boarders must go. Oh, how charming that sounds! I 've been thinking it ever since I was old enough to think, but I never cast it in such an attractive, decisive form before. 'The Boarders Must Go!' To a California girl it is every bit as inspiring as 'The Chinese Must Go.' If I were n't obliged to set the boarders' table, I 'd work the motto on a banner this very minute, and march up and down the plaza2 with it, followed by a crowd of small boys with toy drums."
"The Chinese never did go," said Mrs. Oliver suggestively, from the sofa.
"Oh, that's a trifle; they had a treaty or something, and besides, there are so many of them, and they have such an object in staying."
"You can't turn people out of the house on a moment's warning."
"Certainly not. Give them twenty-four hours, if necessary. We can choose among several methods of getting rid of them. I can put up a placard with
BOARDERS, HO!
printed on it in large letters, and then assemble them in the banquet-hall and make them a speech."
"You would insult them," objected Mrs. Oliver feebly, "and they are perfectly3 innocent."
"Insult them? Oh, mamma, how unworthy of you! I shall speak to them firmly but very gently. 'Ladies and gentlemen,' I shall begin, 'you have done your best to make palatable4 the class of human beings to which you belong, but you have utterly5 failed, and you must go! Board, if you must, ladies and gentlemen, but not here! Sap, if you must, the foundations of somebody else's private paradise, but not ours. In the words of the Poe-et, "Take thy beaks6 from off our door."' Then it will be over, and they will go out."
"Slink out, I should say," murmured Polly's mother.
"Very well, slink out," replied Polly cheerfully. "I should like to see them slink, after they 've been rearing their crested8 heads round our table for generations; but I think you credit them with a sensitiveness they do not, and in the nature of things cannot, possess. There is something in the unnatural9 life which hardens both the boarder and those who board her. However, I don't insist on that method. Let us try bloodless eviction,--set them quietly out in the street with their trunks; or strategy,--put one of them in bed and hang out the smallpox10 flag. Oh, I can get rid of them in a week, if I once set my mind on it."
"There is no doubt of that," said Mrs. Oliver meekly11.
Polly's brain continued to teem12 with sinister13 ideas.
"I shall make Mr. Talbot's bed so that the clothes will come off at the foot every night. He will remonstrate14. I shall tell him that he kicks them off, and intimate that his conscience troubles him, or he would never be so restless. He will glare. I shall promise to do better, yet the clothes will come off worse and worse, and at last, perfectly disheartened, he will go. I shall tell Mr. Greenwood at the breakfast-table, what I have been longing15 for months to tell him, that we can hear him snore, distinctly, through the partition. He will go. I shall put cold milk in Mrs. Caldwell's coffee every morning. I shall mean well, you know, but I shall forget. She will know that I mean well, and that it is only girlish absent-mindedness, but she will not endure it very long; she will go. And so, by the exercise of a little ingenuity16, they will depart one by one, remarking that Mrs. Oliver's boarding-house is not what it used to be; that Pauline is growing a little 'slack.'"
"Polly!" and Mrs. Oliver half rose from the sofa, "I will not allow you to call this a boarding-house in that tone of voice."
"A boarding-house, as I take it," argued Polly, "is a house where the detestable human vipers17 known as boarders are 'taken in and done for.'"
"But we have always prided ourselves on having it exactly like a family," said her mother plaintively18. "You know we have not omitted a single refinement19 of the daintiest home-life, no matter at what cost of labor20 and thought."
"Certainly, that's the point,--and there you are, a sofa-invalid, and here am I with my disposition21 ruined for life; such a wreck22 in temper that I could blow up the boarders with dynamite23 and sleep peacefully after it."
"Now be reasonable, little daughter. Think how kind and grateful the boarders have been (at least almost always), how appreciative24 of everything we have done for them."
"Of course; it is n't every day they can secure an--an--elderly Juno like you to carve meat for them, or a--well, just for the sake of completing the figure of speech--a blooming Hebe like me (I 've always wondered why it was n't _She_be!) to dispense25 their tea and coffee; to say nothing of broma for Mr. Talbot, cocoa for Mr. Greenwood, cambric tea for Mrs. Hastings, and hot water for the Darlings. I have to keep a schedule, and refer to it three times a day. This alone shows that boarders are n't my vocation26."
A bit of conversation gives the clue to character so easily that Mrs. Oliver and her daughter need little more description. You can see the pretty, fragile mother resting among her pillows, and I need only tell you that her dress is always black, her smile patient, her eyes full of peace, and her hands never idle save in this one daily resting-hour prescribed by the determined Miss Polly, who mounts guard during the appointed time like a jailer who expects his prisoner to escape if he removes his eagle eye for an instant.
The aforesaid impetuous Miss Polly has also told you something of herself in this brief interview. She is evidently a person who feels matters rather strongly, and who is wont27 to state them in the strongest terms she knows. Every word she utters shows you that, young as she looks, she is the real head of the family, and that her vigorous independence of thought and speech must be the result of more care and responsibility than ordinarily fall to the lot of a girl of sixteen.
Certain of her remarks must be taken with a grain of salt. Her assertion of willingness to blow up innocent boarders in their beds would seem, for instance, to indicate a vixenish and vindictive28 sort of temper quite unwarranted by the circumstances; but a glance at the girl herself contradicts the thought.
_Item_: A firm chin. She will take her own way if she can possibly get it; but _item_; a sweet, lovable mouth framed in dimples; a mouth that breaks into smiles at the slightest provocation29, no matter how dreary30 the outlook; a mouth that quivers at the first tender word, and so the best of all correctives to the determined little chin below.
_Item_: A distinctly saucy31 nose; an aggressive, impertinent, spirited little nose, with a few freckles32 on it; a nose that probably leads its possessor into trouble occasionally.
_Item_: Two bright eyes, a trifle overproud and willful, perhaps, but candid33 and full of laughter.
_Item_: A head of brilliant, auburn hair; lively, independent, frisky34 hair, each glittering thread standing35 out by itself and asserting its own individuality; tempestuous36 hair that never "stays put;" capricious hair that escapes hairpins37 and comes down unexpectedly; hoydenish38 hair that makes the meekest39 hats look daring.
For the rest, a firm, round figure, no angles, everything, including elbows, in curves; blooming cheeks and smooth-skinned, taper-fingered hands tanned a very honest brown,--the hands of a person who loves beauty.
Polly Oliver's love of beautiful things was a passion, and one that had little gratification; but luckily, though good music, pictures, china, furniture, and "purple and fine linen40" were all conspicuous41 by their absence, she could feast without money and without price on the changeful loveliness of the Santa Ynez mountains, the sapphire42 tints43 of the placid44 Pacific, and the gorgeous splendor45 of the Californian wild-flowers, so that her sense of beauty never starved.
Her hand was visible in the modest sitting-room46 where she now sat with her mother; for it was pretty and homelike, although its simple decorations and furnishings had been brought together little by little during a period of two years; so that the first installments47 were all worn out, Polly was wont to remark plaintively, before the last additions made their appearance.
The straw matting had Japanese figures on it, while a number of rugs covered the worn places, and gave it an opulent look. The table-covers, curtains, and portieres were of blue jean worked in outline embroidery48, and Mrs. Oliver's couch had as many pillows as that of an oriental princess; for Polly's summers were spent camping in a canon, and she embroidered49 sofa-cushions and draperies with frenzy50 during these weeks of out-of-door life.
Upon the cottage piano was a blue Canton ginger-jar filled with branches of feathery bamboo that spread its lace-like foliage51 far and wide over the ceiling and walls, quite covering the large spot where the roof had leaked. Various stalks of tropical-looking palms, distributed artistically52 about, concealed53 the gaping54 wounds in the walls, inflicted55 by the Benton children, who had once occupied this same apartment. Mexican water-jars, bearing peacock feathers, screened Mr. Benton's two favorite places for scratching matches. The lounge was the sort of lounge that looks well only between two windows, but Polly was obliged to place it across the corner where she really needed the table, because in that position it shielded from the public view the enormous black spots on the wall where Reginald Benton had flung the ink-bottle at his angel sister Pansy Belle56.
Then there was an umbrella-lamp bestowed57 by a boarder whom Mrs. Oliver had nursed through typhoid fever; a banjo; plenty of books and magazines; and an open fireplace, with a great pitcher58 of yellow wild-flowers standing between the old-fashioned brass59 andirons.
Little Miss Oliver's attitude on the question of the boarders must stand quite without justification60.
"It is a part of Polly," sighed her mother, "and must be borne with Christian61 fortitude62."
Colonel Oliver had never fully7 recovered from a wound received in the last battle of the civil war, and when he was laid to rest in a quiet New England churchyard, so much of Mrs. Oliver's heart was buried with him that it was difficult to take up the burden of life with any sort of courage. At last her delicate health prompted her to take the baby daughter, born after her husband's death, and go to southern California, where she invested her small property in a house in Santa Barbara. She could not add to her income by any occupation that kept her away from the baby; so the boarders followed as a matter of course (a house being suitable neither for food nor clothing), and a constantly changing family of pleasant people helped her to make both ends meet, and to educate the little daughter as she grew from babyhood into childhood.
Now, as Polly had grown up among the boarders, most of whom petted her, no one can account for her slightly ungrateful reception of their good-will; but it is certain that the first time she was old enough to be trusted at the table, she grew very red in the face, slipped down from her high chair, and took her bowl of bread and milk on to the porch. She was followed and gently reasoned with, but her only explanation was that she did n't "yike to eat wiv so many peoples." Persuasion63 bore no fruit, and for a long time Miss Polly ate in solitary64 grandeur65. Indeed, the feeling increased rather than diminished, until the child grew old enough to realize her mother's burden, when with passionate66 and protecting love she put her strong young shoulders under the load and lifted her share, never so very prettily67 or gracefully,--it is no use trying to paint a halo round Polly's head,--but with a proud courage and a sort of desperate resolve to be as good as she could, which was not very good, she would have told you.
She would come back from the beautiful home of her friend, Bell Winship, and look about on her own surroundings, never with scorn, or sense of bitterness,--she was too sensible and sweet-natured for that,--but with an inward rebellion against the existing state of things, and a secret determination to create a better one, if God would only give her power and opportunity. But this pent-up feeling only showed itself to her mother in bursts of impulsive68 nonsense, at which Mrs. Oliver first laughed and then sighed.
"Oh, for a little, little breakfast-table!" Polly would say, as she flung herself on her mother's couch, and punched the pillows desperately69. "Oh, for a father to say 'Steak, Polly dear?' instead of my asking, 'Steakorchop?' over and over every morning! Oh, for a lovely, grown-up, black-haired sister, who would have hundreds of lovers, and let me stay in the room when they called! Oh, for a tiny baby brother, fat and dimpled, who would crow, and spill milk on the tablecloth70, and let me sit on the floor and pick up the things he threw down! But instead of that, a new, big, strange family, different people every six months, people who don't like each other, and have to be seated at opposite ends of the table; ladies whose lips tremble with disappointment if they don't get the second joint71 of the chicken, and gentlemen who are sulky if any one else gets the liver. Oh, mamma, I am sixteen now, and it will soon be time for me to begin taking care of you; but I warn you, I shall never do it by means of the boarders!"
"Are you so weak and proud, little daughter, as to be ashamed because I have taken care of you these sixteen years 'by means of the boarders,' as you say?"
"No, no, mamma! Don't think so badly of me as that. That feeling was outgrown72 long ago. Do I not know that it is just as fine and honorable as anything else in the world, and do I not love and honor you with all my heart because you do it in so sweet and dignified73 a way that everybody respects you for it? But it is n't my vocation. I would like to do something different, something wider, something lovelier, if I knew how, and were ever good enough!"
"It is easy to 'dream noble things,' dear, but hard to do them 'all day long.' My own feeling is, if one reaches the results one is struggling for, and does one's work as well as it lies in one to do it, that keeping boarders is as good service as any other bit of the world's work. One is not always permitted to choose the beautiful or glorious task. Sometimes all one can do is to make the humble74 action fine by doing it 'as it is done in heaven.' Remember, 'they also serve who only stand and wait.'"
"Yes, mamma," said Polly meekly; "but," stretching out her young arms hopefully and longingly75, "it must be that they also serve who stand and _dare_, and I 'm going to try that first,--then I 'll wait, if God wants me to."
"What if God wants you to wait first, little daughter?"
Polly hid her face in the sofa-cushions and did not answer.
收听单词发音 |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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plaza
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| n.广场，市场 | |
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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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palatable
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| adj.可口的，美味的；惬意的 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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beaks
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| n.鸟嘴( beak的名词复数 )；鹰钩嘴；尖鼻子；掌权者 | |
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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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crested
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| adj.有顶饰的，有纹章的，有冠毛的v.到达山顶（或浪峰）( crest的过去式和过去分词 )；到达洪峰，达到顶点 | |
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unnatural
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| adj.不自然的；反常的 | |
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smallpox
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| n.天花 | |
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meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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teem
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| vi.(with)充满，多产 | |
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13
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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remonstrate
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| v.抗议，规劝 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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ingenuity
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| n.别出心裁；善于发明创造 | |
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vipers
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| n.蝰蛇( viper的名词复数 )；毒蛇；阴险恶毒的人；奸诈者 | |
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plaintively
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| adv.悲哀地，哀怨地 | |
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refinement
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| n.文雅；高尚；精美；精制；精炼 | |
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labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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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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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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dynamite
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| n./vt.(用)炸药(爆破) | |
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appreciative
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| adj.有鉴赏力的，有眼力的；感激的 | |
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dispense
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| vt.分配，分发；配(药)，发(药)；实施 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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provocation
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| n.激怒，刺激，挑拨，挑衅的事物，激怒的原因 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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saucy
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| adj.无礼的；俊俏的；活泼的 | |
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freckles
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| n.雀斑，斑点( freckle的名词复数 ) | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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frisky
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| adj.活泼的，欢闹的；n.活泼，闹着玩；adv.活泼地，闹着玩地 | |
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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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tempestuous
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| adj.狂暴的 | |
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hairpins
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| n.发夹( hairpin的名词复数 ) | |
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hoydenish
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| adj.顽皮的，爱嬉闹的，男孩子气的 | |
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meekest
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| adj.温顺的，驯服的( meek的最高级 ) | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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sapphire
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| n.青玉，蓝宝石；adj.天蓝色的 | |
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tints
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| 色彩( tint的名词复数 )； 带白的颜色； （淡色）染发剂； 痕迹 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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installments
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| 部分( installment的名词复数 ) | |
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embroidery
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| n.绣花，刺绣；绣制品 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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frenzy
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| n.疯狂，狂热，极度的激动 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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artistically
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| adv.艺术性地 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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gaping
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| adj.口的；张口的；敞口的；多洞穴的v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的现在分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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belle
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| n.靓女 | |
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bestowed
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| 赠给，授予( bestow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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persuasion
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| n.劝说；说服；持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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grandeur
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| n.伟大，崇高，宏伟，庄严，豪华 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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impulsive
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| adj.冲动的，刺激的；有推动力的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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73
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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74
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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75
longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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