“You’ll know the house next time, mister,” said a sharp boy.
Pietro was about to answer angrily, when a thought struck him.
“Will you do something for me?” he asked.
“How much?” inquired the boy, suggestively.
“Five cents,” answered Pietro, understanding his meaning.
“It isn’t much,” said the boy, reflectively. “Tell me what you want.”
Though Pietro was not much of a master of English, he contrived6 to make the boy understand that he was to go round to the back door and tell Mrs. McGuire that he, Pietro, was gone. He intended to hide close by, and when Phil came out, as he hoped, on the strength of his disappearance7, he would descend8 upon him and bear him off triumphantly9.
Armed with these instructions, the boy went round to the back door and knocked.
Thinking it might be Phil’s enemy, Mrs. McGuire went to the door, holding in one hand a dipper of hot suds, ready to use in case of emergency.
“He’s gone,” said the boy.
“Who’s gone?”
“The man with the hand-organ, ma’am.”
“And what for do I care?” demanded Bridget, suspiciously.
This was a question the boy could not answer. In fact, he wondered himself why such a message should have been sent. He could only look at her in silence.
“Who told you to tell the man was gone?” asked Bridget, with a shrewdness worthy12 of a practitioner13 at the bar.
“The Italian told me.”
“Did he?” repeated Bridget, who saw into the trick at once. “He’s very kind.”
“He didn’t want you to know he told me,” said the boy, remembering his instructions when it was too late.
Mrs. McGuire nodded her head intelligently.
“True for you,” said she. “What did he pay you for tellin’ me?”
“Five cents.”
“Thin it’s five cints lost. Do you want to earn another five cints?”
“Thin do what I tell you.”
“What is it?”
“Come in and I’ll tell you.”
The boy having entered, Mrs. McGuire led him to the front door.
“Now,” said she, “when I open the door, run as fast as you can. The man that sint you will think it is another boy, and will run after you. Do ye mind?”
The young messenger began to see the joke, and was quite willing to help carry it out. But even the prospective15 fun did not make him forgetful of his promised recompense.
“Where’s the five cents?” he asked.
“Here,” said Bridget, and diving into the depths of a capacious pocket, she drew out five pennies.
“That’s all right,” said the boy. “Now, open the door.”
Bridget took care to make a noise in opening the door, and, as it opened, she said in a loud and exultant16 voice, “You’re all safe now; the man’s gone.”
“Now run,” she said, in a lower voice.
The boy dashed out of the doorway17, but Mrs. McGuire remained standing5 there. She was not much surprised to see Pietro run out from the other side of the house, and prepare to chase the runaway18. But quickly perceiving that he was mistaken, he checked his steps, and turning, saw Mrs. McGuire with a triumphant10 smile on her face.
“Why don’t you run?” she said. “You can catch him.”
“I thought you was gone,” she said.
“I am waiting for my brother.”
“Thin you’ll have to wait. You wanted to chate me, you haythen! But Bridget McGuire ain’t to be took in by such as you. You’d better lave before my man comes home from his work, or he’ll give you lave of absence wid a kick.”
Without waiting for an answer, Bridget shut the door, and bolted it—leaving her enemy routed at all points.
In fact Pietro began to lose courage. He saw that he had a determined20 foe21 to contend with. He had been foiled thus far in every effort to obtain possession of Phil. But the more difficult the enterprise seemed, the more anxious he became to carry it out successfully. He knew that the padrone would not give him a very cordial reception if he returned without Phil, especially as he would be compelled to admit that he had seen him, and had nevertheless failed to secure him. His uncle would not be able to appreciate the obstacles he had encountered, but would consider him in fault. For this reason he did not like to give up the siege, though he saw little hopes of accomplishing his object. At length, however, he was obliged to raise the siege, but from a cause with which neither Phil nor his defender23 had anything to do.
The sky, which had till this time been clear, suddenly darkened. In ten minutes rain began to fall in large drops. A sudden shower, unusual at this time of the year, came up, and pedestrians24 everywhere, caught without umbrellas, fled panic-stricken to the nearest shelter. Twice before, as we know, Pietro had suffered from a shower of warm water. This, though colder, was even more formidable. Vanquished25 by the forces of nature, Pietro shouldered his instrument and fled incontinently. Phil might come out now, if he chose. His enemy had deserted26 his post, and the coast was clear.
“That’ll make the haythen lave,” thought Mrs. McGuire, who, though sorry to see the rain on account of her washing, exulted27 in the fact that Pietro was caught out in it.
She went to the front door and looked out. Looking up the street, she just caught a glimpse of the organ in rapid retreat. She now unbolted the door, the danger being at an end, and went up to acquaint Phil with the good news.
“You may come down now,” she said.
“Is he gone?” inquired Phil.
“Shure he’s runnin’ up the street as fast as his legs can carry him.”
“Thank you for saving me from him,” said, Phil, with a great sense of relief at the flight of his enemy.
“Whisht now; I don’t nade any thanks. Come down by the fire now.”
So Phil went down, and Bridget, on hospitable28 thoughts intent, drew her only rocking-chair near the stove, and forced Phil to sit down in it. Then she told him, with evident enjoyment29, of the trick which Pietro had tried to play on her, and how he had failed.
“He couldn’t chate me, the haythen!” she concluded. “I was too smart for the likes of him, anyhow. Where do you live when you are at home?”
“I have no home now,” said Phil, with tears in his eyes.
“And have you no father and mother?”
“Yes,” said Phil. “They live in Italy.”
“And why did they let you go so far away?”
“They were poor, and the padrone offered them money,” answered Phil, forced to answer, though the subject was an unpleasant one.
“I don’t think they knew,” said Phil, with hesitation31. “My mother did not know.”
“I’ve got three childer myself,” said Bridget; “they’ll get wet comin’ home from school, the darlints—but I wouldn’t let them go with any man to a far country, if he’d give me all the gowld in the world. And where does that man live that trates you so bad?”
“In New York.”
“And does Peter—or whatever the haythen’s name is—live there too?”
“Yes, Pietro lives there. The padrone is his uncle, and treats him better than the rest of us. He sent him after me to bring me back.”
“And what is your name? Is it Peter, like his?”
“No; my name is Filippo.”
“It’s a quare name.”
“American boys call me Phil.”
“That’s better. It’s a Christian32 name, and the other isn’t. Before I married my man I lived five years at Mrs. Robertson’s, and she had a boy they called Phil. His whole name was Philip.”
“That’s my name in English.”
“Then why don’t you call it so, instead of Philip-O? What good is the O, anyhow? In my country they put the O before the name, instead of to the tail-end of it. My mother was an O’Connor. But it’s likely ivery country has its own ways.”
Phil knew very little of Ireland, and did not fully22 understand Mrs. McGuire’s philosophical33 remarks. Otherwise they might have amused him, as they may possibly amuse my readers.
I cannot undertake to chronicle the conversation that took place between Phil and his hostess. She made numerous inquiries34, to some of which he was able to give satisfactory replies, to others not. But in half an hour there was an interruption, and a noisy one. Three stout35, freckled-faced children ran in at the back door, dripping as if they had just emerged from a shower-bath. Phil moved aside to let them approach the stove.
Forthwith Mrs. McGuire was engaged in motherly care, removing a part of the wet clothing, and lamenting36 for the state in which her sturdy offspring had returned. But presently order was restored, and the bustle37 was succeeded by quiet.
Phil complied with the request, and played tune after tune, to the great delight of the children, as well as of Mrs. McGuire herself. The result was that when, shortly after, on the storm subsiding39, Phil proposed to go, the children clamored to have him stay, and he received such a cordial invitation to stop till the next morning that he accepted, nothing loath40. So till the next morning our young hero is provided for.
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1
besieged
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| 包围，围困，围攻( besiege的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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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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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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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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6
contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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7
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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8
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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9
triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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14
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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prospective
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| adj.预期的，未来的，前瞻性的 | |
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16
exultant
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| adj.欢腾的，狂欢的，大喜的 | |
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17
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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18
runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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19
sullenly
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| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
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20
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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21
foe
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| n.敌人，仇敌 | |
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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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23
defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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24
pedestrians
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| n.步行者( pedestrian的名词复数 ) | |
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25
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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26
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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27
exulted
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| 狂喜，欢跃( exult的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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29
enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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30
bate
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| v.压制；减弱；n.（制革用的）软化剂 | |
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31
hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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32
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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philosophical
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| adj.哲学家的，哲学上的，达观的 | |
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34
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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36
lamenting
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| adj.悲伤的，悲哀的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的现在分词 ) | |
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37
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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38
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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39
subsiding
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的现在分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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40
loath
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| adj.不愿意的；勉强的 | |
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