At the very moment when the angry crab1 closed his nippers on the bare big toe of Dick Lee, and his shrill2 note of discomfort3 rang across the inlet, the shriller whistle of the engine announced the arrival of the morning train from the city, at the little station in the village.
A moment or so later, a very pretty young lady was standing4 beside a trunk on the platform, trying to get some information from the flagman.
"Can you tell me where Mr. Foster lives?"
"That's the gimlet-eyed lawyer from New Yark?"
"Yes, he's from New York," said the young lady, smiling in his face.
"Where does he live?"
"He's got the sassiest boy, thin. Is it him as took the Kinzer house?"
"I think likely it is. Can you tell me how to get there?"
"Thim Kinzers is foine people. The widdy married one of the gurrels to
Misther Morris."
"But how can I get to the house?"
"Is it there ye're afther goin'?—Hey, Michael, me boy, bring up yer owld rattlethrap, and take the leddy's thrunk. She'll be goin' to the Kinzer place. Sharp, now."
"I should say it was," muttered the young lady, as the remains5 of what had been a carryall were pulled up beside the platform by the skinny skeleton of what might once have been a horse. "It's a rattletrap."
There was no choice, however; for that was the only public conveyance6 at the station, and the trunk was already whisked in behind the dashboard, and the driver was waiting for her.
He could afford to wait, as it would be some hours before another train would be in.
There was no door to open in that "carriage." It was all door except the top and bottom, and the pretty passenger was neither helped nor hindered in finding her place on the back seat.
If the flagman was more disposed to ask questions than to answer them, Michael said few words of any kind except to his horse. To him, indeed, he kept up a constant stream of encouraging remarks, the greatest part of which would have been difficult for an ordinary hearer to understand.
Very likely the horse knew what they meant; for he came very near breaking from a limp into a trot8 several times, under the stimulus9 of all that clucking and "G'lang, now!"
The distance was by no means great, and Michael seemed to know the way perfectly10. At least he answered, "Yes'm, indade," to several inquiries11 from his passenger, and she was compelled to be satisfied with that.
"What a big house it is! And painters at work on it too," she exclaimed, just as Michael added a vigorous jerk of the reins12 to the "Whoa!" with which he stopped his nag13 in front of an open gate.
"Are you sure this is the place?"
"Yes'm; fifty cints, mum."
By the time the trunk was out of the carriage and swung inside of the gate, the young lady had followed; but for some reason Michael at once sprang back to his place, and whipped up his limping steed. It may have been from the fear of being asked to take that trunk into the house, for it was not a small one. The young lady stood for a moment irresolute14, and then left it where it was, and walked on up to the house.
No bell; no knocker. The workmen had not reached that part of their improvements yet. But the door was open; and a very neatly15 furnished parlor16 at the left of the hall seemed to say, "Come right in, please;" and in she went.
Such an arrival could not possibly have escaped the notice of the inmates17 of the house; and, as the young lady from the railway came in at the front, another and a very different-looking lady marched through to the parlor from the rear.
Each one would have been a puzzle to the other, if the elder of the two had not been Mrs. Kinzer, and the widow had never been very much puzzled in all her life. At all events, she put out her hand, with a cordial smile, saying,—
"Miss Foster, is it not? I am Mrs. Kinzer. How could he have made such a mistake?"
"Yes, Miss Annie Foster. But do please explain Where am I? and how do you know me?"
The widow laughed cheerily.
"How do I know you, my dear? Why, you resemble your mother almost as much as your brother Ford7 resembles his father. You are only one door from home here, and I'll have your trunk taken right over to the house. Please sit down a moment. Ah! my daughter Samantha, Miss Foster. Excuse me a moment, while I call one of the men."
By the time their mother was fairly out of the room, however, Keziah and Pamela were also in it; and Annie thought she had rarely seen three girls whose appearance testified so strongly to the healthiness of the place they lived in.
The flagman's questions and Annie's answers were related quickly enough, and the cause of Michael's blunder was plain at once.
The parlor rang again with peals18 of laughter; for Dab19 Kinzer's sisters were ready at any time to look at the funny side of things, and their accidental guest saw no reason for not joining them.
"Your brother Ford is on the bay, crabbing20 with our Dabney," remarked Samantha, as the widow returned. But Annie's eyes had been furtively21 watching her baggage through the window, and saw it swinging upon a broad, red-shirted pair of shoulders, just then; and, before she could bring her mind to bear upon the crab question, Keziah Kinzer exclaimed,—
"If there isn't Mrs. Foster, coming through the garden gate!"
"My mother!" and Annie was up and out of the parlor in a twinkling, followed by all the ladies of the Kinzer family. It was really quite a procession.
Now, if Mrs. Foster was in any degree surprised by her daughter's sudden appearance, or by her getting to the Kinzer house first instead of to her own, it was a curious fact that she did not say so by a word or a look.
Not a breath of it. But, for all the thorough-bred self-control of the city lady, Mrs. Kinzer knew perfectly well there was something odd and unexpected about it all. If Samantha had noticed this fact, there might have been some questions asked possibly; but one of the widow's most rigid22 rules in life was to "mind her own business."
The girls, indeed, were quite jubilant over an occurrence which made them at once so well acquainted with their very attractive new neighbor; and they might have followed her even beyond the gate in the north fence, if it had not been for their mother. All they were allowed to do was to go back to their own parlor, and hold "a council of war," in the course of which Annie Foster was discussed, from her bonnet23 to her shoes.
Mrs. Foster had been abundantly affectionate in greeting her daughter; but, when once they were alone in the wee sitting-room24 of the old Kinzer homestead, she put her arms around her, saying,—
"Now, my darling, tell me what it all means."
"Why, mother, it was partly my mistake, and partly the flagman's and the driver's; and I'm sure Mrs. Kinzer was kind. She knew me before I said a word, by my resemblance to you."
"Oh, I don't mean that! How is it you are here so soon? I thought you meant to make a long visit at your uncle Hart's."
"So I would, mother, if it had not been for those boys."
"Your cousins, Annie?"
"Cousins, mother! You never saw such young bears in all your life. They tormented25 me from morning till night."
"But, Annie, I hope you have not offended"—
"Offended, mother? Aunt Maria thinks they're perfect, and so does uncle
Joe. They'd let them pull the house down over their heads, you'd think."
"But, Annie, what did they do? and what did you say?"
"Do, mother? I couldn't tell you in all day; but when they poured ink over my cuffs26 and collars, I said I would come home. I had just one pair left white to wear home, and I travelled all night."
Poor Mrs. Foster! A cold shudder27 went over her at the idea of that ink among the spotless contents of her own collar-box.
"What boys they must be! but, Annie, what did your aunt say?"
"Uncle Joe laughed till he cried; and Aunt Maria said, 'Boys will be boys;' and I half believe they were sorry; but that was only a sort of a winding-up, I wouldn't stay there another day."
Annie had other things to tell; and, long before she had finished her story, there was no further fault to be found with her for losing her temper. Still her mother said mildly,—
"I must write to Maria at once, for it won't do to let those boys make trouble between us."
Annie looked at her with an expression of face which very plainly said,—
"Nobody in the wide world could have the heart to quarrel with you."
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1
crab
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| n.螃蟹，偏航，脾气乖戾的人，酸苹果；vi.捕蟹，偏航，发牢骚；vt.使偏航，发脾气 | |
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2
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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3
discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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4
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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5
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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6
conveyance
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| n.(不动产等的)转让，让与；转让证书；传送；运送；表达；（正）运输工具 | |
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7
Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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8
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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9
stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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10
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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11
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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12
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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13
nag
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| v.(对…)不停地唠叨；n.爱唠叨的人 | |
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14
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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15
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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17
inmates
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| n.囚犯( inmate的名词复数 ) | |
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18
peals
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| n.（声音大而持续或重复的）洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 )；隆隆声；洪亮的钟声；钟乐v.（使）（钟等）鸣响，（雷等）发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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19
dab
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| v.轻触，轻拍，轻涂；n.(颜料等的)轻涂 | |
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20
crabbing
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| v.捕蟹( crab的现在分词 ) | |
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21
furtively
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| adv. 偷偷地, 暗中地 | |
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22
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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23
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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24
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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25
tormented
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| 饱受折磨的 | |
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26
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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27
shudder
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| v.战粟，震动，剧烈地摇晃；n.战粟，抖动 | |
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