Robert had arranged a thoughtful little surprise for the absent servants. He had made a neat and delightful2 booby trap over the kitchen door, and as soon as they heard the front door click open and knew the servants had come back, all four children hid in the cupboard under the stairs and listened with delight to the entrance—the tumble, the splash, the scuffle, and the remarks of the servants. They heard the cook say it was a judgement on them for leaving the place to itself; she seemed to think that a booby trap was a kind of plant that was quite likely to grow, all by itself, in a dwelling3 that was left shut up. But the housemaid, more acute, judged that someone must have been in the house—a view confirmed by the sight of the breakfast things on the nursery table.
The cupboard under the stairs was very tight and paraffiny, however, and a silent struggle for a place on top ended in the door bursting open and discharging Jane, who rolled like a football to the feet of the servants.
‘Now,’ said Cyril, firmly, when the cook’s hysterics had become quieter, and the housemaid had time to say what she thought of them, ‘don’t you begin jawing4 us. We aren’t going to stand it. We know too much. You’ll please make an extra special treacle5 roley for dinner, and we’ll have a tinned tongue.’
‘I daresay,’ said the housemaid, indignant, still in her outdoor things and with her hat very much on one side. ‘Don’t you come a-threatening me, Master Cyril, because I won’t stand it, so I tell you. You tell your ma about us being out? Much I care! She’ll be sorry for me when she hears about my dear great-aunt by marriage as brought me up from a child and was a mother to me. She sent for me, she did, she wasn’t expected to last the night, from the spasms6 going to her legs—and cook was that kind and careful she couldn’t let me go alone, so—’
‘Don’t,’ said Anthea, in real distress7. ‘You know where liars8 go to, Eliza—at least if you don’t—’
‘Liars indeed!’ said Eliza, ‘I won’t demean myself talking to you.’
‘How’s Mrs Wigson?’ said Robert, ‘and DID you keep it up last night?’
The mouth of the housemaid fell open.
‘Did you doss with Maria or Emily?’ asked Cyril.
‘How did Mrs Prosser enjoy herself?’ asked Jane.
‘Forbear,’ said Cyril, ‘they’ve had enough. Whether we tell or not depends on your later life,’ he went on, addressing the servants. ‘If you are decent to us we’ll be decent to you. You’d better make that treacle roley—and if I were you, Eliza, I’d do a little housework and cleaning, just for a change.’
The servants gave in once and for all.
‘There’s nothing like firmness,’ Cyril went on, when the breakfast things were cleared away and the children were alone in the nursery. ‘People are always talking of difficulties with servants. It’s quite simple, when you know the way. We can do what we like now and they won’t peach. I think we’ve broken THEIR proud spirit. Let’s go somewhere by carpet.’
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ said the Phoenix9, yawning, as it swooped10 down from its roost on the curtain pole. ‘I’ve given you one or two hints, but now concealment12 is at an end, and I see I must speak out.’
It perched on the back of a chair and swayed to and fro, like a parrot on a swing.
‘What’s the matter now?’ said Anthea. She was not quite so gentle as usual, because she was still weary from the excitement of last night’s cats. ‘I’m tired of things happening. I shan’t go anywhere on the carpet. I’m going to darn my stockings.’
‘Darn!’ said the Phoenix, ‘darn! From those young lips these strange expressions—’
‘Mend, then,’ said Anthea, ‘with a needle and wool.’
The Phoenix opened and shut its wings thoughtfully.
‘Your stockings,’ it said, ‘are much less important than they now appear to you. But the carpet—look at the bare worn patches, look at the great rent at yonder corner. The carpet has been your faithful friend—your willing servant. How have you requited13 its devoted14 service?’
‘Dear Phoenix,’ Anthea urged, ‘don’t talk in that horrid15 lecturing tone. You make me feel as if I’d done something wrong. And really it is a wishing carpet, and we haven’t done anything else to it—only wishes.’
‘Only wishes,’ repeated the Phoenix, ruffling16 its neck feathers angrily, ‘and what sort of wishes? Wishing people to be in a good temper, for instance. What carpet did you ever hear of that had such a wish asked of it? But this noble fabric17, on which you trample18 so recklessly’ (every one removed its boots from the carpet and stood on the linoleum), ‘this carpet never flinched19. It did what you asked, but the wear and tear must have been awful. And then last night—I don’t blame you about the cats and the rats, for those were its own choice; but what carpet could stand a heavy cow hanging on to it at one corner?’
‘I should think the cats and rats were worse,’ said Robert, ‘look at all their claws.’
‘Yes,’ said the bird, ‘eleven thousand nine hundred and forty of them—I daresay you noticed? I should be surprised if these had not left their mark.’
‘Good gracious,’ said Jane, sitting down suddenly on the floor, and patting the edge of the carpet softly; ‘do you mean it’s WEARING OUT?’
‘Its life with you has not been a luxurious20 one,’ said the Phoenix.
‘French mud twice. Sand of sunny shores twice. Soaking in southern seas once. India once. Goodness knows where in Persia once. Musk-rat-land once. And once, wherever the cow came from. Hold your carpet up to the light, and with cautious tenderness, if YOU please.’
With cautious tenderness the boys held the carpet up to the light; the girls looked, and a shiver of regret ran through them as they saw how those eleven thoousand nine hundred and forty claws had run through the carpet. It was full of little holes: there were some large ones, and more than one thin place. At one corner a strip of it was torn, and hung forlornly.
‘We must mend it,’ said Anthea; ‘never mind about my stockings. I can sew them up in lumps with sewing cotton if there’s no time to do them properly. I know it’s awful and no girl would who respected herself, and all that; but the poor dear carpet’s more important than my silly stockings. Let’s go out now this very minute.’
So out they all went, and bought wool to mend the carpet; but there is no shop in Camden Town where you can buy wishing-wool, no, nor in Kentish Town either. However, ordinary Scotch21 heather-mixture fingering seemed good enough, and this they bought, and all that day Jane and Anthea darned and darned and darned. The boys went out for a walk in the afternoon, and the gentle Phoenix paced up and down the table—for exercise, as it said—and talked to the industrious22 girls about their carpet.
‘It is not an ordinary, ignorant, innocent carpet from Kidderminster,’ it said, ‘it is a carpet with a past—a Persian past. Do you know that in happier years, when that carpet was the property of caliphs, viziers, kings, and sultans, it never lay on a floor?’
‘I thought the floor was the proper home of a carpet,’ Jane interrupted.
‘Not of a MAGIC carpet,’ said the Phoenix; ‘why, if it had been allowed to lie about on floors there wouldn’t be much of it left now. No, indeed! It has lived in chests of cedarwood, inlaid with pearl and ivory, wrapped in priceless tissues of cloth of gold, embroidered23 with gems24 of fabulous25 value. It has reposed26 in the sandal-wood caskets of princesses, and in the rose-attar-scented27 treasure-houses of kings. Never, never, had any one degraded it by walking on it—except in the way of business, when wishes were required, and then they always took their shoes off. And YOU—’
‘Oh, DON’T!’ said Jane, very near tears. ‘You know you’d never have been hatched at all if it hadn’t been for mother wanting a carpet for us to walk on.’
‘You needn’t have walked so much or so hard!’ said the bird, ‘but come, dry that crystal tear, and I will relate to you the story of the Princess Zulieka, the Prince of Asia, and the magic carpet.’
‘Relate away,’ said Anthea—‘I mean, please do.’
‘The Princess Zulieka, fairest of royal ladies,’ began the bird, ‘had in her cradle been the subject of several enchantments28. Her grandmother had been in her day—’
But what in her day Zulieka’s grandmother had been was destined29 never to be revealed, for Cyril and Robert suddenly burst into the room, and on each brow were the traces of deep emotion. On Cyril’s pale brow stood beads30 of agitation31 and perspiration32, and on the scarlet33 brow of Robert was a large black smear34.
‘What ails35 ye both?’ asked the Phoenix, and it added tartly36 that story-telling was quite impossible if people would come interrupting like that.
‘Oh, do shut up, for any sake!’ said Cyril, sinking into a chair.
Robert smoothed the ruffled37 golden feathers, adding kindly38—
‘Squirrel doesn’t mean to be a beast. It’s only that the MOST AWFUL thing has happened, and stories don’t seem to matter so much. Don’t be cross. You won’t be when you’ve heard what’s happened.’
‘Well, what HAS happened?’ said the bird, still rather crossly; and Anthea and Jane paused with long needles poised39 in air, and long needlefuls of Scotch heather-mixture fingering wool drooping40 from them.
‘The most awful thing you can possibly think of,’ said Cyril. ‘That nice chap—our own burglar—the police have got him, on suspicion of stolen cats. That’s what his brother’s missis told me.’
‘Oh, begin at the beginning!’ cried Anthea impatiently.
‘Well, then, we went out, and down by where the undertaker’s is, with the china flowers in the window—you know. There was a crowd, and of course we went to have a squint41. And it was two bobbies and our burglar between them, and he was being dragged along; and he said, “I tell you them cats was GIVE me. I got ‘em in exchange for me milking a cow in a basement parlour up Camden Town way.”
‘And the people laughed. Beasts! And then one of the policemen said perhaps he could give the name and address of the cow, and he said, no, he couldn’t; but he could take them there if they’d only leave go of his coat collar, and give him a chance to get his breath. And the policeman said he could tell all that to the magistrate42 in the morning. He didn’t see us, and so we came away.’
‘Oh, Cyril, how COULD you?’ said Anthea.
‘Don’t be a pudding-head,’ Cyril advised. ‘A fat lot of good it would have done if we’d let him see us. No one would have believed a word we said. They’d have thought we were kidding. We did better than let him see us. We asked a boy where he lived and he told us, and we went there, and it’s a little greengrocer’s shop, and we bought some Brazil nuts. Here they are.’ The girls waved away the Brazil nuts with loathing43 and contempt.
‘Well, we had to buy SOMETHING, and while we were making up our minds what to buy we heard his brother’s missis talking. She said when he came home with all them miaoulers she thought there was more in it than met the eye. But he WOULD go out this morning with the two likeliest of them, one under each arm. She said he sent her out to buy blue ribbon to put round their beastly necks, and she said if he got three months’ hard it was her dying word that he’d got the blue ribbon to thank for it; that, and his own silly thieving ways, taking cats that anybody would know he couldn’t have come by in the way of business, instead of things that wouldn’t have been missed, which Lord knows there are plenty such, and—’
‘Oh, STOP!’ cried Jane. And indeed it was time, for Cyril seemed like a clock that had been wound up, and could not help going on. ‘Where is he now?’
‘At the police-station,’ said Robert, for Cyril was out of breath. ‘The boy told us they’d put him in the cells, and would bring him up before the Beak44 in the morning. I thought it was a jolly lark45 last night—getting him to take the cats—but now—’
‘The end of a lark,’ said the Phoenix, ‘is the Beak.’
‘Let’s go to him,’ cried both the girls jumping up. ‘Let’s go and tell the truth. They MUST believe us.’
‘They CAN’T,’ said Cyril. ‘Just think! If any one came to you with such a tale, you couldn’t believe it, however much you tried. We should only mix things up worse for him.’
‘There must be something we could do,’ said Jane, sniffing46 very much—‘my own dear pet burglar! I can’t bear it. And he was so nice, the way he talked about his father, and how he was going to be so extra honest. Dear Phoenix, you MUST be able to help us. You’re so good and kind and pretty and clever. Do, do tell us what to do.’
The Phoenix rubbed its beak thoughtfully with its claw.
‘You might rescue him,’ it said, ‘and conceal11 him here, till the law-supporters had forgotten about him.’
‘That would be ages and ages,’ said Cyril, ‘and we couldn’t conceal him here. Father might come home at any moment, and if he found the burglar here HE wouldn’t believe the true truth any more than the police would. That’s the worst of the truth. Nobody ever believes it. Couldn’t we take him somewhere else?’
Jane clapped her hands.
‘The sunny southern shore!’ she cried, ‘where the cook is being queen. He and she would be company for each other!’
And really the idea did not seem bad, if only he would consent to go.
So, all talking at once, the children arranged to wait till evening, and then to seek the dear burglar in his lonely cell.
Meantime Jane and Anthea darned away as hard as they could, to make the carpet as strong as possible. For all felt how terrible it would be if the precious burglar, while being carried to the sunny southern shore, were to tumble through a hole in the carpet, and be lost for ever in the sunny southern sea.
The servants were tired after Mrs Wigson’s party, so every one went to bed early, and when the Phoenix reported that both servants were snoring in a heartfelt and candid47 manner, the children got up—they had never undressed; just putting their nightgowns on over their things had been enough to deceive Eliza when she came to turn out the gas. So they were ready for anything, and they stood on the carpet and said—
‘I wish we were in our burglar’s lonely cell.’ and instantly they were.
I think every one had expected the cell to be the ‘deepest dungeon48 below the castle moat’. I am sure no one had doubted that the burglar, chained by heavy fetters49 to a ring in the damp stone wall, would be tossing uneasily on a bed of straw, with a pitcher50 of water and a mouldering51 crust, untasted, beside him. Robert, remembering the underground passage and the treasure, had brought a candle and matches, but these were not needed.
The cell was a little white-washed room about twelve feet long and six feet wide. On one side of it was a sort of shelf sloping a little towards the wall. On this were two rugs, striped blue and yellow, and a water-proof pillow. Rolled in the rugs, and with his head on the pillow, lay the burglar, fast asleep. (He had had his tea, though this the children did not know—it had come from the coffee-shop round the corner, in very thick crockery.) The scene was plainly revealed by the light of a gas-lamp in the passage outside, which shone into the cell through a pane52 of thick glass over the door.
‘I shall gag him,’ said Cyril, ‘and Robert will hold him down. Anthea and Jane and the Phoenix can whisper soft nothings to him while he gradually awakes.’
This plan did not have the success it deserved, because the burglar, curiously53 enough, was much stronger, even in his sleep, than Robert and Cyril, and at the first touch of their hands he leapt up and shouted out something very loud indeed.
Instantly steps were heard outside. Anthea threw her arms round the burglar and whispered—
‘It’s us—the ones that gave you the cats. We’ve come to save you, only don’t let on we’re here. Can’t we hide somewhere?’
Heavy boots sounded on the flagged passage outside, and a firm voice shouted—
‘Here—you—stop that row, will you?’
‘All right, governor,’ replied the burglar, still with Anthea’s arms round him; ‘I was only a-talking in my sleep. No offence.’
It was an awful moment. Would the boots and the voice come in. Yes! No! The voice said—
‘Well, stow it, will you?’
And the boots went heavily away, along the passage and up some sounding stone stairs.
‘Now then,’ whispered Anthea.
‘How the blue Moses did you get in?’ asked the burglar, in a hoarse54 whisper of amazement55.
‘On the carpet,’ said Jane, truly.
‘Stow that,’ said the burglar. ‘One on you I could ‘a’ swallowed, but four—AND a yellow fowl56.’
‘Look here,’ said Cyril, sternly, ‘you wouldn’t have believed any one if they’d told you beforehand about your finding a cow and all those cats in our nursery.’
‘That I wouldn’t,’ said the burglar, with whispered fervour, ‘so help me Bob, I wouldn’t.’
‘Well, then,’ Cyril went on, ignoring this appeal to his brother, ‘just try to believe what we tell you and act accordingly. It can’t do you any HARM, you know,’ he went on in hoarse whispered earnestness. ‘You can’t be very much worse off than you are now, you know. But if you’ll just trust to us we’ll get you out of this right enough. No one saw us come in. The question is, where would you like to go?’
‘I’d like to go to Boolong,’ was the instant reply of the burglar. ‘I’ve always wanted to go on that there trip, but I’ve never ‘ad the ready at the right time of the year.’
‘Boolong is a town like London,’ said Cyril, well meaning, but inaccurate57, ‘how could you get a living there?’
The burglar scratched his head in deep doubt.
‘It’s ‘ard to get a ‘onest living anywheres nowadays,’ he said, and his voice was sad.
‘Yes, isn’t it?’ said Jane, sympathetically; ‘but how about a sunny southern shore, where there’s nothing to do at all unless you want to.’
‘That’s my billet, miss,’ replied the burglar. ‘I never did care about work—not like some people, always fussing about.’
‘Did you never like any sort of work?’ asked Anthea, severely58.
‘Lor’, lumme, yes,’ he answered, ‘gardening was my ‘obby, so it was. But father died afore ‘e could bind59 me to a nurseryman, an’—’
‘We’ll take you to the sunny southern shore,’ said Jane; ‘you’ve no idea what the flowers are like.’
‘Our old cook’s there,’ said Anthea. ‘She’s queen—’
‘Oh, chuck it,’ the burglar whispered, clutching at his head with both hands. ‘I knowed the first minute I see them cats and that cow as it was a judgement on me. I don’t know now whether I’m a-standing on my hat or my boots, so help me I don’t. If you CAN get me out, get me, and if you can’t, get along with you for goodness’ sake, and give me a chanst to think about what’ll be most likely to go down with the Beak in the morning.’
‘Come on to the carpet, then,’ said Anthea, gently shoving. The others quietly pulled, and the moment the feet of the burglar were planted on the carpet Anthea wished:
‘I wish we were all on the sunny southern shore where cook is.’
And instantly they were. There were the rainbow sands, the tropic glories of leaf and flower, and there, of course, was the cook, crowned with white flowers, and with all the wrinkles of crossness and tiredness and hard work wiped out of her face.
‘Why, cook, you’re quite pretty!’ Anthea said, as soon as she had got her breath after the tumble-rush-whirl of the carpet. The burglar stood rubbing his eyes in the brilliant tropic sunlight, and gazing wildly round him on the vivid hues60 of the tropic land.
‘Penny plain and tuppence coloured!’ he exclaimed pensively61, ‘and well worth any tuppence, however hard-earned.’
The cook was seated on a grassy62 mound63 with her court of copper-coloured savages64 around her. The burglar pointed65 a grimy finger at these.
‘Are they tame?’ he asked anxiously. ‘Do they bite or scratch, or do anything to yer with poisoned arrows or oyster66 shells or that?’
‘Don’t you be so timid,’ said the cook. ‘Look’e ‘ere, this ‘ere’s only a dream what you’ve come into, an’ as it’s only a dream there’s no nonsense about what a young lady like me ought to say or not, so I’ll say you’re the best-looking fellow I’ve seen this many a day. And the dream goes on and on, seemingly, as long as you behaves. The things what you has to eat and drink tastes just as good as real ones, and—’
‘Look ‘ere,’ said the burglar, ‘I’ve come ‘ere straight outer the pleece station. These ‘ere kids’ll tell you it ain’t no blame er mine.’
‘Well, you WERE a burglar, you know,’ said the truthful67 Anthea gently.
‘Only because I was druv to it by dishonest blokes, as well you knows, miss,’ rejoined the criminal. ‘Blowed if this ain’t the ‘ottest January as I’ve known for years.’
‘Wouldn’t you like a bath?’ asked the queen, ‘and some white clothes like me?’
‘I should only look a juggins in ‘em, miss, thanking you all the same,’ was the reply; ‘but a bath I wouldn’t resist, and my shirt was only clean on week before last.’
Cyril and Robert led him to a rocky pool, where he bathed luxuriously68. Then, in shirt and trousers he sat on the sand and spoke69.
‘That cook, or queen, or whatever you call her—her with the white bokay on her ‘ed—she’s my sort. Wonder if she’d keep company!’
‘I should ask her.’
‘I was always a quick hitter,’ the man went on; ‘it’s a word and a blow with me. I will.’
In shirt and trousers, and crowned with a scented flowery wreath which Cyril hastily wove as they returned to the court of the queen, the burglar stood before the cook and spoke.
‘Look ‘ere, miss,’ he said. ‘You an’ me being’ all forlorn-like, both on us, in this ‘ere dream, or whatever you calls it, I’d like to tell you straight as I likes yer looks.’
The cook smiled and looked down bashfully.
‘I’m a single man—what you might call a batcheldore. I’m mild in my ‘abits, which these kids’ll tell you the same, and I’d like to ‘ave the pleasure of walkin’ out with you next Sunday.’
‘Lor!’ said the queen cook, ‘’ow sudden you are, mister.’
‘Walking out means you’re going to be married,’ said Anthea. ‘Why not get married and have done with it? I would.’
‘I don’t mind if I do,’ said the burglar. But the cook said—
‘No, miss. Not me, not even in a dream. I don’t say anythink ag’in the young chap’s looks, but I always swore I’d be married in church, if at all—and, anyway, I don’t believe these here savages would know how to keep a registering office, even if I was to show them. No, mister, thanking you kindly, if you can’t bring a clergyman into the dream I’ll live and die like what I am.’
‘Will you marry her if we get a clergyman?’ asked the match-making Anthea.
‘I’m agreeable, miss, I’m sure,’ said he, pulling his wreath straight. ‘’Ow this ‘ere bokay do tiddle a chap’s ears to be sure!’
So, very hurriedly, the carpet was spread out, and instructed to fetch a clergyman. The instructions were written on the inside of Cyril’s cap with a piece of billiard chalk Robert had got from the marker at the hotel at Lyndhurst. The carpet disappeared, and more quickly than you would have thought possible it came back, bearing on its bosom70 the Reverend Septimus Blenkinsop.
The Reverend Septimus was rather a nice young man, but very much mazed71 and muddled72, because when he saw a strange carpet laid out at his feet, in his own study, he naturally walked on it to examine it more closely. And he happened to stand on one of the thin places that Jane and Anthea had darned, so that he was half on wishing carpet and half on plain Scotch heather-mixture fingering, which has no magic properties at all.
The effect of this was that he was only half there—so that the children could just see through him, as though he had been a ghost. And as for him, he saw the sunny southern shore, the cook and the burglar and the children quite plainly; but through them all he saw, quite plainly also, his study at home, with the books and the pictures and the marble clock that had been presented to him when he left his last situation.
He seemed to himself to be in a sort of insane fit, so that it did not matter what he did—and he married the burglar to the cook. The cook said that she would rather have had a solider kind of a clergyman, one that you couldn’t see through so plain, but perhaps this was real enough for a dream.
And of course the clergyman, though misty73, was really real, and able to marry people, and he did. When the ceremony was over the clergyman wandered about the island collecting botanical specimens74, for he was a great botanist75, and the ruling passion was strong even in an insane fit.
There was a splendid wedding feast. Can you fancy Jane and Anthea, and Robert and Cyril, dancing merrily in a ring, hand-in-hand with copper-coloured savages, round the happy couple, the queen cook and the burglar consort76? There were more flowers gathered and thrown than you have ever even dreamed of, and before the children took carpet for home the now married-and-settled burglar made a speech.
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, ‘and savages of both kinds, only I know you can’t understand what I’m a saying of, but we’ll let that pass. If this is a dream, I’m on. If it ain’t, I’m onner than ever. If it’s betwixt and between—well, I’m honest, and I can’t say more. I don’t want no more ‘igh London society—I’ve got some one to put my arm around of; and I’ve got the whole lot of this ‘ere island for my allotment, and if I don’t grow some broccoli77 as’ll open the judge’s eye at the cottage flower shows, well, strike me pink! All I ask is, as these young gents and ladies’ll bring some parsley seed into the dream, and a penn’orth of radish seed, and threepenn’orth of onion, and I wouldn’t mind goin’ to fourpence or fippence for mixed kale, only I ain’t got a brown, so I don’t deceive you. And there’s one thing more, you might take away the parson. I don’t like things what I can see ‘alf through, so here’s how!’ He drained a coconut-shell of palm wine.
It was now past midnight—though it was tea-time on the island.
With all good wishes the children took their leave. They also collected the clergyman and took him back to his study and his presentation clock.
The Phoenix kindly carried the seeds next day to the burglar and his bride, and returned with the most satisfactory news of the happy pair.
‘He’s made a wooden spade and started on his allotment,’ it said, ‘and she is weaving him a shirt and trousers of the most radiant whiteness.’
The police never knew how the burglar got away. In Kentish Town Police Station his escape is still spoken of with bated breath as the Persian mystery.
As for the Reverend Septimus Blenkinsop, he felt that he had had a very insane fit indeed, and he was sure it was due to over-study. So he planned a little dissipation, and took his two maiden78 aunts to Paris, where they enjoyed a dazzling round of museums and picture galleries, and came back feeling that they had indeed seen life. He never told his aunts or any one else about the marriage on the island—because no one likes it to be generally known if he has had insane fits, however interesting and unusual.
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uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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jawing
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| n.用水灌注 | |
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treacle
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| n.糖蜜 | |
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spasms
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| n.痉挛( spasm的名词复数 )；抽搐；（能量、行为等的）突发；发作 | |
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distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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liars
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| 说谎者( liar的名词复数 ) | |
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phoenix
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| n.凤凰，长生(不死)鸟；引申为重生 | |
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swooped
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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conceal
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concealment
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| n.隐藏, 掩盖，隐瞒 | |
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requited
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| v.报答( requite的过去式和过去分词 )；酬谢；回报；报复 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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ruffling
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| 弄皱( ruffle的现在分词 )； 弄乱； 激怒； 扰乱 | |
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fabric
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| n.织物，织品，布；构造，结构，组织 | |
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trample
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| vt.踩，践踏；无视，伤害，侵犯 | |
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flinched
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| v.（因危险和痛苦）退缩，畏惧( flinch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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embroidered
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| adj．绣花的 | |
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gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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reposed
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scented
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| adj.有香味的；洒香水的；有气味的v.嗅到(scent的过去分词) | |
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enchantments
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| n.魅力( enchantment的名词复数 )；迷人之处；施魔法；着魔 | |
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destined
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| adj.命中注定的；(for)以…为目的地的 | |
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beads
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| n.（空心）小珠子( bead的名词复数 )；水珠；珠子项链 | |
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agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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perspiration
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| n.汗水；出汗 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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smear
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| v.涂抹；诽谤，玷污；n.污点；诽谤，污蔑 | |
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ails
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| v.生病( ail的第三人称单数 )；感到不舒服；处境困难；境况不佳 | |
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tartly
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| adv.辛辣地，刻薄地 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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poised
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| a.摆好姿势不动的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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squint
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| v. 使变斜视眼, 斜视, 眯眼看, 偏移, 窥视; n. 斜视, 斜孔小窗; adj. 斜视的, 斜的 | |
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magistrate
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| n.地方行政官，地方法官，治安官 | |
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loathing
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| n.厌恶，憎恨v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的现在分词)；极不喜欢 | |
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beak
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| n.鸟嘴，茶壶嘴，钩形鼻 | |
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lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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dungeon
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| n.地牢，土牢 | |
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fetters
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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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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mouldering
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| v.腐朽( moulder的现在分词 )；腐烂，崩塌 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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inaccurate
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| adj.错误的，不正确的，不准确的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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hues
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| 色彩( hue的名词复数 )； 色调； 信仰； 观点 | |
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pensively
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| adv.沉思地，焦虑地 | |
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grassy
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| adj.盖满草的；长满草的 | |
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mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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savages
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| 未开化的人，野蛮人( savage的名词复数 ) | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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truthful
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| adj.真实的，说实话的，诚实的 | |
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luxuriously
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| adv.奢侈地，豪华地 | |
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69
spoke
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| 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 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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mazed
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| 迷惘的，困惑的 | |
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muddled
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| adj.混乱的；糊涂的；头脑昏昏然的v.弄乱，弄糟( muddle的过去式)；使糊涂；对付，混日子 | |
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misty
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| adj.雾蒙蒙的，有雾的 | |
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specimens
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| n.样品( specimen的名词复数 )；范例；（化验的）抽样；某种类型的人 | |
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botanist
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| n.植物学家 | |
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76
consort
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| v.相伴；结交 | |
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77
broccoli
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| n.绿菜花，花椰菜 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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