Albert’s uncle had a whole stack of letters as usual, and presently he tossed one over to Dora, and said, ‘What do you say, little lady? Shall we let them come?’
But Dora, butter-fingered as ever, missed the catch, and Dick and Noel both had a try for it, so that the letter went into the place where the bacon had been, and where now only a frozen-looking lake of bacon fat was slowly hardening, and then somehow it got into the marmalade, and then H. O. got it, and Dora said—
‘I don’t want the nasty thing now—all grease and stickiness.’ So H. O. read it aloud—
MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUITIES1 AND FIELD CLUB
Aug. 14, 1900
‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the—’
H. O. stuck fast here, and the writing was really very bad, like a spider that has been in the ink-pot crawling in a hurry over the paper without stopping to rub its feet properly on the mat. So Oswald took the letter. He is above minding a little marmalade or bacon. He began to read. It ran thus:
‘It’s not Antiquities, you little silly,’ he said; ‘it’s Antiquaries.’
‘The other’s a very good word,’ said Albert’s uncle, ‘and I never call names at breakfast myself—it upsets the digestion2, my egregious3 Oswald.’
‘That’s a name though,’ said Alice, ‘and you got it out of “Stalky”, too. Go on, Oswald.’
So Oswald went on where he had been interrupted:
‘MAIDSTONE SOCIETY OF “ANTIQUARIES” AND FIELD CLUB
Aug. 14,1900.
‘DEAR SIR,—At a meeting of the Committee of this Society it was agreed that a field day should be held on Aug. 20, when the Society proposes to visit the interesting church of Ivybridge and also the Roman remains4 in the vicinity. Our president, Mr Longchamps, F.R.S., has obtained permission to open a barrow in the Three Trees pasture. We venture to ask whether you would allow the members of the Society to walk through your grounds and to inspect—from without, of course—your beautiful house, which is, as you are doubtless aware, of great historic interest, having been for some years the residence of the celebrated5 Sir Thomas Wyatt.—I am, dear Sir, yours faithfully,
‘EDWARD K. TURNBULL (Hon. Sec.).’
‘Just so,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘well, shall we permit the eye of the Maidstone Antiquities to profane7 these sacred solitudes8, and the foot of the Field Club to kick up a dust on our gravel9?’
‘Our gravel is all grass,’ H. O. said.
And the girls said, ‘Oh, do let them come!’ It was Alice who said—
‘Why not ask them to tea? They’ll be very tired coming all the way from Maidstone.’
‘Would you really like it?’ Albert’s uncle asked. ‘I’m afraid they’ll be but dull dogs, the Antiquities, stuffy11 old gentlemen with amphorae in their buttonholes instead of orchids12, and pedigrees poking13 out of all their pockets.’
We laughed—because we knew what an amphorae is. If you don’t you might look it up in the dicker. It’s not a flower, though it sounds like one out of the gardening book, the kind you never hear of anyone growing.
Dora said she thought it would be splendid.
‘And we could have out the best china,’ she said, ‘and decorate the table with flowers. We could have tea in the garden. We’ve never had a party since we’ve been here.’
‘I warn you that your guests may be boresome; however, have it your own way,’ Albert’s uncle said; and he went off to write the invitation to tea to the Maidstone Antiquities. I know that is the wrong word but somehow we all used it whenever we spoke14 of them, which was often.
In a day or two Albert’s uncle came in to tea with a lightly-clouded brow.
‘You’ve let me in for a nice thing,’ he said. ‘I asked the Antiquities to tea, and I asked casually15 how many we might expect. I thought we might need at least the full dozen of the best teacups. Now the secretary writes accepting my kind invitation—’
‘Oh, good!’ we cried. ‘And how many are coming?’ ‘Oh, only about sixty,’ was the groaning16 rejoinder. ‘Perhaps more, should the weather be exceptionally favourable17.’
Though stunned18 at first, we presently decided19 that we were pleased.
We had never, never given such a big party.
The girls were allowed to help in the kitchen, where Mrs Pettigrew made cakes all day long without stopping. They did not let us boys be there, though I cannot see any harm in putting your finger in a cake before it is baked, and then licking your finger, if you are careful to put a different finger in the cake next time. Cake before it is baked is delicious—like a sort of cream.
Albert’s uncle said he was the prey20 of despair. He drove in to Maidstone one day. When we asked him where he was going, he said—
‘To get my hair cut: if I keep it this length I shall certainly tear it out by double handfuls in the extremity21 of my anguish22 every time I think of those innumerable Antiquities.’
But we found out afterwards that he really went to borrow china and things to give the Antiquities their tea out of; though he did have his hair cut too, because he is the soul of truth and honour.
Oswald had a very good sort of birthday, with bows and arrows as well as other presents. I think these were meant to make up for the pistol that was taken away after the adventure of the fox-hunting. These gave us boys something to do between the birthday-keeping, which was on the Saturday, and the Wednesday when the Antiquities were to come.
We did not allow the girls to play with the bows and arrows, because they had the cakes that we were cut off from: there was little or no unpleasantness over this.
On the Tuesday we went down to look at the Roman place where the Antiquities were going to dig. We sat on the Roman wall and ate nuts. And as we sat there, we saw coming through the beet-field two labourers with picks and shovels23, and a very young man with thin legs and a bicycle. It turned out afterwards to be a free-wheel, the first we had ever seen.
They stopped at a mound24 inside the Roman wall, and the men took their coats off and spat25 on their hands.
We went down at once, of course. The thin-legged bicyclist explained his machine to us very fully6 and carefully when we asked him, and then we saw the men were cutting turfs and turning them over and rolling them up and putting them in a heap. So we asked the gentleman with the thin legs what they were doing. He said—
‘They are beginning the preliminary excavation26 in readiness for to-morrow.’
‘What’s up to-morrow?’ H. O. asked.
‘To-morrow we propose to open this barrow and examine it.’
‘Then YOU’RE the Antiquities?’ said H. O.
‘I’m the secretary,’ said the gentleman, smiling, but narrowly.
‘Oh, you’re all coming to tea with us,’ Dora said, and added anxiously, ‘how many of you do you think there’ll be?’
‘Oh, not more than eighty or ninety, I should think,’ replied the gentleman.
This took our breath away and we went home. As we went, Oswald, who notices many things that would pass unobserved by the light and careless, saw Denny frowning hard. So he said, ‘What’s up?’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ the Dentist said. ‘Let’s call a council.’ The Dentist had grown quite used to our ways now. We had called him Dentist ever since the fox-hunt day. He called a council as if he had been used to calling such things all his life, and having them come, too; whereas we all know that his former existing was that of a white mouse in a trap, with that cat of a Murdstone aunt watching him through the bars.
(That is what is called a figure of speech. Albert’s uncle told me.)
Councils are held in the straw-loft. As soon as we were all there, and the straw had stopped rustling27 after our sitting down, Dicky said—
‘I hope it’s nothing to do with the Wouldbegoods?’
‘No,’ said Denny in a hurry: ‘quite the opposite.’
‘I hope it’s nothing wrong,’ said Dora and Daisy together.
‘It’s—it’s “Hail to thee, blithe28 spirit—bird thou never wert”,’ said Denny. ‘I mean, I think it’s what is called a lark29.’
‘You never know your luck. Go on, Dentist,’ said Dicky.
‘Well, then, do you know a book called The Daisy Chain?’
We didn’t.
‘It’s by Miss Charlotte M. Yonge,’ Daisy interrupted, ‘and it’s about a family of poor motherless children who tried so hard to be good, and they were confirmed, and had a bazaar30, and went to church at the Minster, and one of them got married and wore black watered silk and silver ornaments31. So her baby died, and then she was sorry she had not been a good mother to it. And—’ Here Dicky got up and said he’d got some snares32 to attend to, and he’d receive a report of the Council after it was over. But he only got as far as the trap-door, and then Oswald, the fleet of foot, closed with him, and they rolled together on the floor, while all the others called out ‘Come back! Come back!’ like guinea-hens on a fence.
Through the rustle33 and bustle34 and hustle35 of the struggle with Dicky, Oswald heard the voice of Denny murmuring one of his everlasting36 quotations—
‘“Come back, come back!” he cried in Greek, “
Across the stormy water,
And I’ll forgive your Highland37 cheek,
My daughter, O my daughter!”’
When quiet was restored and Dicky had agreed to go through with the Council, Denny said—
‘The Daisy Chain is not a bit like that really. It’s a ripping book. One of the boys dresses up like a lady and comes to call, and another tries to hit his little sister with a hoe. It’s jolly fine, I tell you.’
Denny is learning to say what he thinks, just like other boys. He would never have learnt such words as ‘ripping’ and ‘jolly fine’ while under the auntal tyranny.
Since then I have read The Daisy Chain. It is a first-rate book for girls and little boys.
But we did not want to talk about The Daisy Chain just then, so Oswald said—
‘But what’s your lark?’ Denny got pale pink and said—
‘Don’t hurry me. I’ll tell you directly. Let me think a minute.’
Then he shut his pale pink eyelids38 a moment in thought, and then opened them and stood up on the straw and said very fast—
‘Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears, or if not ears, pots. You know Albert’s uncle said they were going to open the barrow, to look for Roman remains to-morrow. Don’t you think it seems a pity they shouldn’t find any?’
‘Perhaps they will,’ Dora said.
But Oswald saw, and he said ‘Primus! Go ahead, old man.’
The Dentist went ahead.
‘In The Daisy Chain,’ he said, ‘they dug in a Roman encampment and the children went first and put some pottery39 there they’d made themselves, and Harry’s old medal of the Duke of Wellington. The doctor helped them to some stuff to partly efface40 the inscription41, and all the grown-ups were sold. I thought we might—
‘You may break, you may shatter
The vase if you will;
But the scent42 of the Romans
Will cling round it still.’
Denny sat down amid applause. It really was a great idea, at least for HIM. It seemed to add just what was wanted to the visit of the Maidstone Antiquities. To sell the Antiquities thoroughly43 would be indeed splendiferous. Of course Dora made haste to point out that we had not got an old medal of the Duke of Wellington, and that we hadn’t any doctor who would ‘help us to stuff to efface’, and etcetera; but we sternly bade her stow it. We weren’t going to do EXACTLY like those Daisy Chain kids.
The pottery was easy. We had made a lot of it by the stream—which was the Nile when we discovered its source—and dried it in the sun, and then baked it under a bonfire, like in Foul44 Play. And most of the things were such queer shapes that they should have done for almost anything—Roman or Greek, or even Egyptian or antediluvian45, or household milk-jugs46 of the cavemen, Albert’s uncle said. The pots were, fortunately, quite ready and dirty, because we had already buried them in mixed sand and river mud to improve the colour, and not remembered to wash it off.
So the Council at once collected it all—and some rusty48 hinges and some brass49 buttons and a file without a handle; and the girl Councillors carried it all concealed50 in their pinafores, while the men members carried digging tools. H. O. and Daisy were sent on ahead as scouts51 to see if the coast was clear. We have learned the true usefulness of scouts from reading about the Transvaal War. But all was still in the hush52 of evening sunset on the Roman ruin.
We posted sentries53, who were to lie on their stomachs on the walls and give a long, low, signifying whistle if aught approached.
Then we dug a tunnel, like the one we once did after treasure, when we happened to bury a boy. It took some time; but never shall it be said that a Bastable grudged54 time or trouble when a lark was at stake. We put the things in as naturally as we could, and shoved the dirt back, till everything looked just as before. Then we went home, late for tea. But it was in a good cause; and there was no hot toast, only bread-and-butter, which does not get cold with waiting.
That night Alice whispered to Oswald on the stairs, as we went up to bed—
‘Meet me outside your door when the others are asleep. Hist! Not a word.’
Oswald said, ‘No kid?’ And she replied in the affirmation.
So he kept awake by biting his tongue and pulling his hair—for he shrinks from no pain if it is needful and right.
And when the others all slept the sleep of innocent youth, he got up and went out, and there was Alice dressed.
She said, ‘I’ve found some broken things that look ever so much more Roman—they were on top of the cupboard in the library. If you’ll come with me, we’ll bury them just to see how surprised the others will be.’
It was a wild and daring act, but Oswald did not mind.
He said—
‘Wait half a shake.’ And he put on his knickerbockers and jacket, and slipped a few peppermints55 into his pocket in case of catching57 cold. It is these thoughtful expedients58 which mark the born explorer and adventurer.
It was a little cold; but the white moonlight was very fair to see, and we decided we’d do some other daring moonlight act some other day. We got out of the front door, which is never locked till Albert’s uncle goes to bed at twelve or one, and we ran swiftly and silently across the bridge and through the fields to the Roman ruin.
Alice told me afterwards she should have been afraid if it had been dark. But the moonlight made it as bright as day is in your dreams.
Oswald had taken the spade and a sheet of newspaper.
We did not take all the pots Alice had found—but just the two that weren’t broken—two crooked59 jugs, made of stuff like flower-pots are made of. We made two long cuts with the spade and lifted the turf up and scratched the earth under, and took it out very carefully in handfuls on to the newspaper, till the hole was deepish. Then we put in the jugs, and filled it up with earth and flattened60 the turf over. Turf stretches like elastic61. This we did a couple of yards from the place where the mound was dug into by the men, and we had been so careful with the newspaper that there was no loose earth about.
Then we went home in the wet moonlight—at least the grass was very wet—chuckling through the peppermint56, and got up to bed without anyone knowing a single thing about it.
The next day the Antiquities came. It was a jolly hot day, and the tables were spread under the trees on the lawn, like a large and very grand Sunday-school treat. There were dozens of different kinds of cake, and bread-and-butter, both white and brown, and gooseberries and plums and jam sandwiches. And the girls decorated the tables with flowers—blue larkspur and white Canterbury bells. And at about three there was a noise of people walking in the road, and presently the Antiquities began to come in at the front gate, and stood about on the lawn by twos and threes and sixes and sevens, looking shy and uncomfy, exactly like a Sunday-school treat. Presently some gentlemen came, who looked like the teachers; they were not shy, and they came right up to the door. So Albert’s uncle, who had not been too proud to be up in our room with us watching the people on the lawn through the netting of our short blinds, said—
‘I suppose that’s the Committee. Come on!’
So we all went down—we were in our Sunday things—and Albert’s uncle received the Committee like a feudal62 system baron63, and we were his retainers.
He talked about dates, and king posts and gables, and mullions, and foundations, and records, and Sir Thomas Wyatt, and poetry, and Julius Caesar, and Roman remains, and lych gates and churches, and dog’s-tooth moulding till the brain of Oswald reeled. I suppose that Albert’s uncle remarked that all our mouths were open, which is a sign of reels in the brain, for he whispered—
‘Go hence, and mingle64 unsuspected with the crowd!’
So we went out on to the lawn, which was now crowded with men and women and one child. This was a girl; she was fat, and we tried to talk to her, though we did not like her. (She was covered in red velvet65 like an arm-chair.) But she wouldn’t. We thought at first she was from a deaf-and-dumb asylum66, where her kind teachers had only managed to teach the afflicted67 to say ‘Yes’ and ‘No’. But afterwards we knew better, for Noel heard her say to her mother, ‘I wish you hadn’t brought me, mamma. I didn’t have a pretty teacup, and I haven’t enjoyed my tea one bit.’ And she had had five pieces of cake, besides little cakes and nearly a whole plate of plums, and there were only twelve pretty teacups altogether.
Several grown-ups talked to us in a most uninterested way, and then the President read a paper about the Moat House, which we couldn’t understand, and other people made speeches we couldn’t understand either, except the part about kind hospitality, which made us not know where to look.
Then Dora and Alice and Daisy and Mrs Pettigrew poured out the tea, and we handed cups and plates.
Albert’s uncle took me behind a bush to see him tear what was left of his hair when he found there were one hundred and twenty-three Antiquities present, and I heard the President say to the Secretary that ‘tea always fetched them’.
Then it was time for the Roman ruin, and our hearts beat high as we took our hats—it was exactly like Sunday—and joined the crowded procession of eager Antiquities. Many of them had umbrellas and overcoats, though the weather was fiery68 and without a cloud. That is the sort of people they were. The ladies all wore stiff bonnets69, and no one took their gloves off, though, of course, it was quite in the country, and it is not wrong to take your gloves off there.
We had planned to be quite close when the digging went on; but Albert’s uncle made us a mystic sign and drew us apart.
Then he said: ‘The stalls and dress circle are for the guests. The hosts and hostesses retire to the gallery, whence, I am credibly70 informed, an excellent view may be obtained.’
So we all went up on the Roman walls, and thus missed the cream of the lark; for we could not exactly see what was happening. But we saw that things were being taken from the ground as the men dug, and passed round for the Antiquities to look at. And we knew they must be our Roman remains; but the Antiquities did not seem to care for them much, though we heard sounds of pleased laughter. And at last Alice and I exchanged meaning glances when the spot was reached where we had put in the extras. Then the crowd closed up thick, and we heard excited talk and we knew we really HAD sold the Antiquities this time.
Presently the bonnets and coats began to spread out and trickle71 towards the house and we were aware that all would soon be over. So we cut home the back way, just in time to hear the President saying to Albert’s uncle—
‘A genuine find—most interesting. Oh, really, you ought to have ONE. Well, if you insist—’
And so, by slow and dull degrees, the thick sprinkling of Antiquities melted off the lawn; the party was over, and only the dirty teacups and plates, and the trampled72 grass and the pleasures of memory were left.
We had a very beautiful supper—out of doors, too—with jam sandwiches and cakes and things that were over; and as we watched the setting monarch73 of the skies—I mean the sun—Alice said—
‘Let’s tell.’
We let the Dentist tell, because it was he who hatched the lark, but we helped him a little in the narrating74 of the fell plot, because he has yet to learn how to tell a story straight from the beginning.
When he had done, and we had done, Albert’s uncle said, ‘Well, it amused you; and you’ll be glad to learn that it amused your friends the Antiquities.’
‘Didn’t they think they were Roman?’ Daisy said; ‘they did in The Daisy Chain.’
‘Not in the least,’ said Albert’s uncle; ‘but the Treasurer75 and Secretary were charmed by your ingenious preparations for their reception.’
‘We didn’t want them to be disappointed,’ said Dora.
‘They weren’t,’ said Albert’s uncle. ‘Steady on with those plums, H.O. A little way beyond the treasure you had prepared for them they found two specimens76 of REAL Roman pottery which sent every man-jack of them home thanking his stars he had been born a happy little Antiquary child.’
‘Those were our jugs,’ said Alice, ‘and we really HAVE sold the Antiquities. She unfolded the tale about our getting the jugs and burying them in the moonlight, and the mound; and the others listened with deeply respectful interest. ‘We really have done it this time, haven’t we?’ she added in tones of well-deserved triumph.
But Oswald had noticed a queer look about Albert’s uncle from almost the beginning of Alice’s recital77; and he now had the sensation of something being up, which has on other occasions frozen his noble blood. The silence of Albert’s uncle now froze it yet more Arcticly.
‘Haven’t we?’ repeated Alice, unconscious of what her sensitive brother’s delicate feelings had already got hold of. ‘We have done it this time, haven’t we?’
‘Since you ask me thus pointedly,’ answered Albert’s uncle at last, ‘I cannot but confess that I think you have indeed done it. Those pots on the top of the library cupboard ARE Roman pottery. The amphorae which you hid in the mound are probably—I can’t say for certain, mind—priceless. They are the property of the owner of this house. You have taken them out and buried them. The President of the Maidstone Antiquarian Society has taken them away in his bag. Now what are you going to do?’
Alice and I did not know what to say, or where to look. The others added to our pained position by some ungenerous murmurs78 about our not being so jolly clever as we thought ourselves.
There was a very far from pleasing silence. Then Oswald got up. He said—
‘Alice, come here a sec; I want to speak to you.’
As Albert’s uncle had offered no advice, Oswald disdained79 to ask him for any.
Alice got up too, and she and Oswald went into the garden, and sat down on the bench under the quince tree, and wished they had never tried to have a private lark of their very own with the Antiquities—‘A Private Sale’, Albert’s uncle called it afterwards. But regrets, as nearly always happens, were vain. Something had to be done.
But what?
Oswald and Alice sat in silent desperateness, and the voices of the gay and careless others came to them from the lawn, where, heartless in their youngness, they were playing tag. I don’t know how they could. Oswald would not like to play tag when his brother and sister were in a hole, but Oswald is an exception to some boys.
But Dicky told me afterwards he thought it was only a joke of Albert’s uncle’s.
The dusk grew dusker, till you could hardly tell the quinces from the leaves, and Alice and Oswald still sat exhausted80 with hard thinking, but they could not think of anything. And it grew so dark that the moonlight began to show.
Then Alice jumped up—just as Oswald was opening his mouth to say the same thing—and said, ‘Of course—how silly! I know. Come on in, Oswald.’ And they went on in.
Oswald was still far too proud to consult anyone else. But he just asked carelessly if Alice and he might go into Maidstone the next day to buy some wire-netting for a rabbit-hutch, and to see after one or two things.
Albert’s uncle said certainly. And they went by train with the bailiff from the farm, who was going in about some sheep-dip and to buy pigs. At any other time Oswald would not have been able to bear to leave the bailiff without seeing the pigs bought. But now it was different. For he and Alice had the weight on their bosoms81 of being thieves without having meant it—and nothing, not even pigs, had power to charm the young but honourable82 Oswald till that stain had been wiped away.
So he took Alice to the Secretary of the Maidstone Antiquities’ house, and Mr Turnbull was out, but the maid-servant kindly83 told us where the President lived, and ere long the trembling feet of the unfortunate brother and sister vibrated on the spotless gravel of Camperdown Villa84.
When they asked, they were told that Mr Longchamps was at home. Then they waited, paralysed with undescribed emotions, in a large room with books and swords and glass bookcases with rotten-looking odds85 and ends in them. Mr Longchamps was a collector. That means he stuck to anything, no matter how ugly and silly, if only it was old.
He came in rubbing his hands, and very kind. He remembered us very well, he said, and asked what he could do for us.
Oswald for once was dumb. He could not find words in which to own himself the ass10 he had been. But Alice was less delicately moulded. She said—
‘Oh, if you please, we are most awfully86 sorry, and we hope you’ll forgive us, but we thought it would be such a pity for you and all the other poor dear Antiquities to come all that way and then find nothing Roman—so we put some pots and things in the barrow for you to find.’
‘So I perceived,’ said the President, stroking his white beard and smiling most agreeably at us; ‘a harmless joke, my dear! Youth’s the season for jesting. There’s no harm done—pray think no more about it. It’s very honourable of you to come and apologize, I’m sure.’
His brow began to wear the furrowed87, anxious look of one who would fain be rid of his guests and get back to what he was doing before they interrupted him.
Alice said, ‘We didn’t come for that. It’s MUCH worse. Those were two REAL true Roman jugs you took away; we put them there; they aren’t ours. We didn’t know they were real Roman. We wanted to sell the Antiquities—I mean Antiquaries—and we were sold ourselves.’
‘This is serious,’ said the gentleman. ‘I suppose you’d know the—the “jugs” if you saw them again?’
‘Anywhere,’ said Oswald, with the confidential88 rashness of one who does not know what he is talking about.
Mr Longchamps opened the door of a little room leading out of the one we were in, and beckoned89 us to follow. We found ourselves amid shelves and shelves of pottery of all sorts; and two whole shelves—small ones—were filled with the sort of jug47 we wanted.
‘Well,’ said the President, with a veiled menacing sort of smile, like a wicked cardinal90, ‘which is it?’
Oswald said, ‘I don’t know.’
Alice said, ‘I should know if I had it in my hand.’
The President patiently took the jugs down one after another, and Alice tried to look inside them. And one after another she shook her head and gave them back. At last she said, ‘You didn’t WASH them?’
Mr Longchamps shuddered91 and said ‘No’.
‘Then,’ said Alice, ‘there is something written with lead-pencil inside both the jugs. I wish I hadn’t. I would rather you didn’t read it. I didn’t know it would be a nice old gentleman like you would find it. I thought it would be the younger gentleman with the thin legs and the narrow smile.’
‘Mr Turnbull.’ The President seemed to recognize the description unerringly. ‘Well, well—boys will be boys—girls, I mean. I won’t be angry. Look at all the “jugs” and see if you can find yours.’
Alice did—and the next one she looked at she said, ‘This is one’—and two jugs further on she said, ‘This is the other.’
‘Well,’ the President said, ‘these are certainly the specimens which I obtained yesterday. If your uncle will call on me I will return them to him. But it’s a disappointment. Yes, I think you must let me look inside.’
He did. And at the first one he said nothing. At the second he laughed.
‘Well, well,’ he said, ‘we can’t expect old heads on young shoulders. You’re not the first who went forth92 to shear93 and returned shorn. Nor, it appears, am I. Next time you have a Sale of Antiquities, take care that you yourself are not “sold”. Good-day to you, my dear. Don’t let the incident prey on your mind,’ he said to Alice. ‘Bless your heart, I was a boy once myself, unlikely as you may think it. Good-bye.’
We were in time to see the pigs bought after all.
I asked Alice what on earth it was she’d scribbled94 inside the beastly jugs, and she owned that just to make the lark complete she had written ‘Sucks’ in one of the jugs, and ‘Sold again, silly’, in the other.
But we know well enough who it was that was sold. And if ever we have any Antiquities to tea again, they shan’t find so much as a Greek waistcoat button if we can help it.
Unless it’s the President, for he did not behave at all badly. For a man of his age I think he behaved exceedingly well. Oswald can picture a very different scene having been enacted95 over those rotten pots if the President had been an otherwise sort of man.
But that picture is not pleasing, so Oswald will not distress96 you by drawing it for you. You can most likely do it easily for yourself.
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
antiquities
|
|
| n.古老( antiquity的名词复数 )；古迹；古人们；古代的风俗习惯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
digestion
|
|
| n.消化，吸收 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
egregious
|
|
| adj.非常的，过分的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
remains
|
|
| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
celebrated
|
|
| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
fully
|
|
| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
profane
|
|
| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
solitudes
|
|
| n.独居( solitude的名词复数 )；孤独；荒僻的地方；人迹罕至的地方 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
gravel
|
|
| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
ass
|
|
| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
stuffy
|
|
| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
orchids
|
|
| n.兰花( orchid的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
poking
|
|
| n. 刺，戳，袋 vt. 拨开，刺，戳 vi. 戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
spoke
|
|
| 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 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
casually
|
|
| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
groaning
|
|
| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
favourable
|
|
| adj.赞成的，称赞的，有利的，良好的，顺利的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
stunned
|
|
| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
decided
|
|
| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
prey
|
|
| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
extremity
|
|
| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
anguish
|
|
| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
shovels
|
|
| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
mound
|
|
| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
spat
|
|
| n.口角，掌击；v.发出呼噜呼噜声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
excavation
|
|
| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
rustling
|
|
| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
blithe
|
|
| adj.快乐的，无忧无虑的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
lark
|
|
| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
bazaar
|
|
| n.集市，商店集中区 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
ornaments
|
|
| n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 )；点缀；装饰品；首饰v.装饰，点缀，美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
snares
|
|
| n.陷阱( snare的名词复数 )；圈套；诱人遭受失败（丢脸、损失等）的东西；诱惑物v.用罗网捕捉，诱陷，陷害( snare的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
rustle
|
|
| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
bustle
|
|
| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
hustle
|
|
| v.推搡；竭力兜售或获取；催促；n.奔忙(碌) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
everlasting
|
|
| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
highland
|
|
| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
eyelids
|
|
| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
pottery
|
|
| n.陶器，陶器场 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
efface
|
|
| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
inscription
|
|
| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
scent
|
|
| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
foul
|
|
| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
antediluvian
|
|
| adj.史前的，陈旧的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
jugs
|
|
| （有柄及小口的）水壶( jug的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
jug
|
|
| n.(有柄，小口，可盛水等的)大壶，罐，盂 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
rusty
|
|
| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
49
brass
|
|
| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
50
concealed
|
|
| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
51
scouts
|
|
| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
52
hush
|
|
| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
53
sentries
|
|
| 哨兵，步兵( sentry的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
54
grudged
|
|
| 怀恨（grudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
55
peppermints
|
|
| n.薄荷( peppermint的名词复数 )；薄荷糖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
56
peppermint
|
|
| n.薄荷，薄荷油，薄荷糖 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
57
catching
|
|
| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
58
expedients
|
|
| n.应急有效的，权宜之计的( expedient的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
59
crooked
|
|
| adj.弯曲的；不诚实的，狡猾的，不正当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
60
flattened
|
|
| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
61
elastic
|
|
| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
62
feudal
|
|
| adj.封建的，封地的，领地的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
63
baron
|
|
| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
64
mingle
|
|
| vt.使混合，使相混；vi.混合起来；相交往 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
65
velvet
|
|
| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
66
asylum
|
|
| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
67
afflicted
|
|
| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
68
fiery
|
|
| adj.燃烧着的，火红的；暴躁的；激烈的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
69
bonnets
|
|
| n.童帽( bonnet的名词复数 )；（烟囱等的）覆盖物；（苏格兰男子的）无边呢帽；（女子戴的）任何一种帽子 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
70
credibly
|
|
| ad.可信地；可靠地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
71
trickle
|
|
| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
72
trampled
|
|
| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
73
monarch
|
|
| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
74
narrating
|
|
| v.故事( narrate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
75
treasurer
|
|
| n.司库，财务主管 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
76
specimens
|
|
| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
77
recital
|
|
| n.朗诵，独奏会，独唱会 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
78
murmurs
|
|
| n.低沉、连续而不清的声音( murmur的名词复数 )；低语声；怨言；嘀咕 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
79
disdained
|
|
| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
80
exhausted
|
|
| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
81
bosoms
|
|
| 胸部( bosom的名词复数 )； 胸怀； 女衣胸部（或胸襟）； 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
82
honourable
|
|
| adj.可敬的；荣誉的，光荣的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
83
kindly
|
|
| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
84
villa
|
|
| n.别墅，城郊小屋 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
85
odds
|
|
| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
86
awfully
|
|
| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
87
furrowed
|
|
| v.犁田，开沟( furrow的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
88
confidential
|
|
| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
89
beckoned
|
|
| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
90
cardinal
|
|
| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
91
shuddered
|
|
| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
92
forth
|
|
| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
93
shear
|
|
| n.修剪，剪下的东西，羊的一岁；vt.剪掉，割，剥夺；vi.修剪，切割，剥夺，穿越 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
94
scribbled
|
|
| v.潦草的书写( scribble的过去式和过去分词 )；乱画；草草地写；匆匆记下 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
95
enacted
|
|
| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
96
distress
|
|
| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |