At fourteen and a quarter Gwen Gascoyne was at a particularly difficult and hobbledehoy stage of her development. She was tall for her age, and rather awkward in her manners, apt at present to be slapdash and independent, and decidedly lacking in "that repose2 which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere". Gwen could never keep still for five seconds, her restless hands were always fidgeting or her feet shuffling3, or she was twisting in her chair, or shaking back a loose untidy lock that had escaped from her ribbon. Gwen often did her hair without the aid of a looking-glass, but when she happened to use one the reflection of her own face gave her little cause for satisfaction.
"I'm plain, and there's no blinking the fact," she confessed to herself. "Winnie says I'm variable, and I can look nice when I smile, but I'm afraid no one would trouble to look at me twice. If only I were Lesbia now, or even Beatrice! People talk about the flower of a family—well, I expect I'm the weed, as far as appearances go! I haven't had my fair share in the way of good looks."
It certainly seemed hard that Nature, which had
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been kind to the Gascoynes in that respect, should have dowered her brothers and sisters so liberally, and have left poor Gwen out in the cold. Her bright little face had an attraction all of its own, of which she was quite unconscious, but she was entirely4 accustomed to stand aside while strangers noticed and admired her younger sister Lesbia. To do Gwen justice, though she might lament5 her own plainness, it never struck her to be jealous of the others. She was intensely proud of the family reputation for beauty, and even if she could not include herself among "the handsome Gascoynes", it certainly gave her a reflected satisfaction to be aware of the epithet6.
"I'm like Daddy," she said sometimes; "nobody ever calls him handsome, but he's a dear all the same—the dearest dear in the world!"
The Reverend Maurice Gascoyne was curate-in-charge of the church of St. John the Baptist in the little fishing village of Skelwick Bay, on the coast of the North Sea. He was rich in the possession of seven children, but there his luck ended, for his income, as is often the case, was in exactly inverse7 ratio to the size of his family.
"The fact is, we're as poor as church mice," said Beatrice one day. "Indeed, I think we're poorer, because the mouse we saw in church last Sunday, that scared Winnie so, was very fat and sleek8 and prosperous looking, and didn't bear out the old saying at all."
For the last four years, ever since pretty Mrs. Maurice Gascoyne had gently laid down the burden
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that had grown too heavy for her, Beatrice had been the clever, energetic "mother" of the establishment. She managed the house, and the children, and the one maid, and the parish, and her father, all included, with a business-like capacity far in advance of her twenty years. She was a fine-looking girl, tall and straight-limbed and ample, with blue eyes and dark brows, and a clear creamy skin, and that air of noble strength about her which the Greek sculptors10 gave to their statues of Artemis. Though she did her best both for home and hamlet, Beatrice often chafed11 against the narrowness of her limits. It was a sore point that she had been obliged to leave school at sixteen, and devote herself to domestic pursuits, and while not regretting the sacrifice, she often lamented12 the two years lopped off her education.
"I'm so behind, I never could go in even for the matric. now," she sighed sometimes. "If I could have realized my ambition, I'd have studied for a lady doctor."
Since the profession of medicine was utterly13 and entirely out of the question, Beatrice often consoled herself by planning that when the children were old enough to do without her, she would go as a nurse to a big London hospital, and rise to be a ward1 sister, or perhaps—who knew?—even a matron. In the meanwhile her talent for administration had to confine itself within the bounds of the Parsonage and the parish, where it was apt to become just a trifle dictatorial14 and overbearing. It is so hard for a young, keen, ardent15 nature, anxious to set the world right, to remember that infinite patience must go hand in hand with our
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best endeavours, and that the time of sowing is an utterly different season from that of harvest.
Between Gwen and Beatrice there was often friction16. The former resented being ordered about by a sister of only twenty, and would prove rebellious17 on occasion. Really, the two girls' dispositions18 were much alike, but Beatrice's early position of responsibility had turned into strength of character what was at present mere20 manifestation21 of independence and often bravado22 in Gwen.
Winnie, a sweet-tempered, pretty girl of eighteen, had just been made an under-mistress at "Rodenhurst", Miss Roscoe's school, which she and Gwen and Lesbia attended daily. Teaching was not at all Winnie's vocation23, she hated it heartily24, but as her services cancelled her sisters' school fees, she was obliged to accept the unwelcome drudgery25 for the sake of the help it gave to her father's narrow income. If it was Beatrice's ambition to go out into the world and carve a career for herself, it was certainly Winnie's ideal to stop at home. She was a born housekeeper26, and loved sewing and cake-baking and jam-making, and dusting the best china, and gardening, and rearing poultry27 and ducks. It seemed a great pity that she could not have changed places with her elder sister, but Beatrice's education had been stopped too soon for her to be of any use as a teacher, while Winnie, though not clever, had been carefully trained in Rodenhurst methods. Fortunately she had a very cheerful, sunny disposition19, that was prone28 to make the best of things, so she struggled along, taking Miss Roscoe's many suggestions and reproofs29 so
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amiably30 that the Principal, often irate31 at her lack of capacity, had not the heart to scold her too severely32. Of her own choice, I am afraid, Winnie would never have opened a book, but she managed to get up her subjects for her classes, and was a conscientious33, painstaking34 mistress, if not a brilliant one.
After Gwen came the beauty of the family, twelve-year-old Lesbia, a dear, delightful35, smiling, lovable little lazybones, usually at the bottom of her Form. Lesbia never attempted to work hard at school. She scraped through her lessons somehow, generally with Gwen's help at home, and took life in a happy-go-lucky fashion, with as little trouble to herself as possible. Lesbia's chief virtue36 was an admirably calm and unruffled temper: she would laugh philosophically37 over things that made Gwen rage, and though she had not half the character of the latter, she was a far greater general favourite. She was much petted at school, both by her own Form and by the Seniors, for she had sweet, coaxing38 little ways, and a helpless, confiding39 look in her blue eyes that was rather fascinating, and her lovely fair flaxen hair gave her the appearance of a large wax doll, just new from a toy shop. Lesbia had one great advantage: she was always well dressed. She possessed40 a rich cousin of exactly her own age, whose clothes were passed on to her. Irene grew rapidly, so her handsome frocks and coats were scarcely worn when they reached Lesbia, and as Aunt Violet invariably sent them first to the cleaners, they would arrive wrapped in folds of dainty tissue paper, and looking like new. It seemed rather hard that Lesbia should always be the lucky
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recipient41 of the parcels, and Beatrice, with a strict sense of justice, had often tried to adapt some of the things for Gwen. It was quite impossible, however—Lesbia's neat, dainty little figure exactly fitted into the clothes, while Gwen, tall and big-boned even for her extra two and a half years, was so many sizes too large that she had to resign all hope of "fineries", and content herself with plain blouses and navy-blue serge skirts that could be lengthened42 easily. Not that Gwen troubled much about dress at this period of her existence; indeed she was apt to throw on her garments in a haphazard43 fashion that greatly excited Beatrice's wrath44, and would raise a remonstrance45 even from Winnie. Life was so full of different things, and so many fresh interests and new plans were crowding continually into her brain, that she never had time to think whether her tie was neatly46 knotted or her belt properly fastened; it is a sad admission to make, no doubt, but then Gwen was no ideal heroine, only a very faulty, impetuous, headstrong, human girl.
Three little brothers completed the Gascoyne family—Giles, Basil, and Martin, aged9 respectively ten, nine, and five, bonny mischievous47 urchins48, who were alternately Beatrice's pride and despair. By vigorous measures she managed to keep them in tolerably good order, but she could never be sure what pranks49 they would play next, and was generally prepared for emergencies. She always had supplies handy of arnica, sticking plaster, and rags for cut fingers, and would toil50 away patiently mending long rents in small knickerbockers or darning holes in stockings and
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jerseys51. Giles and Basil went daily to a branch establishment of Rodenhurst, kept by Miss Roscoe for boys under twelve; and Martin learnt his letters at home, and trotted52 about the house and parish in Beatrice's wake. He was a sweet little scamp, and the apple of her eye, for she had brought him up from babyhood, but she sometimes felt it would be an intense relief when he was old enough to go to school with the others.
For seven years the Gascoynes had lived at the little parsonage at Skelwick Bay. It was a small, low, creeper-covered place, built behind a sheltering spur of hill, to protect it from the fierce winter gales53 and the driving spray of the sea. Four latticed bedroom windows caught the early morning sun, and a stone porch shielded the front door, which opened directly into the sitting-room54. There was nothing at all grand about the house, but, thanks to Beatrice, it was neatly kept, and had an air of general comfort. All articles likely to be broken by small fingers were wisely put away, or placed in father's study, a sanctum where no one might intrude55 without express permission; but books, paint boxes, &c., were freely allowed, and each member of the family had a special shelf on which to keep his or her particular possessions. Beatrice had many excellent rules, and though in the enforcement of these she was strict to the verge56 of severity, in the main she was just, and had her father's full sanction for her authority.
The garden at the Parsonage was a great joy, with its thick hedge of fuchsias, and its beds of fragrant57 wallflowers, and its standard roses growing among
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the grass, and its clumps58 of Czar violets under the sheltered wall. Here Winnie toiled59 early and late, getting up sometimes with the sun that she might put in an hour's work before breakfast, weeding, replanting, pruning60, raking, and tying up. It was chiefly owing to her exertions61 that the show of flowers was so good, though Gwen was her ally in that respect, and even Lesbia gave a little desultory62 help. There was a thick, bowery lime tree under whose shade it was delightful to have tea in summer, or to lie reading books on hot Sundays; and there was a fascinating corner of the old wall, which the girls called "the rampart", from whence it was possible to command an excellent view of the main road—a great convenience sometimes to the younger ones, who would keep watch, and beat a hasty retreat if they saw an unwelcome visitor arriving, leaving Beatrice to offer hospitality alone.
Gwen was the worst sinner in this respect. She was bashful, and hated to have to say "How do you do?" to callers. In spite of Beatrice's efforts to train her in social ways, she would fly at the very approach of a flower-trimmed hat or a white parasol.
"You scuttle63 off like a rabbit into its burrow," said Beatrice indignantly on one occasion; "and if you're caught, you behave in such a silly, awkward way that I'm ashamed of you. People will think you haven't been properly brought up, and blame me. It's not my fault that you've got no manners."
"I feel as if I don't know where to look when people speak to me, and as if my hands and feet were too big," protested Gwen. "I can't help shuffling and
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wrinkling up my forehead—I can't indeed! You're awfully64 hard on me, Bee!"
"Perhaps she'll grow a little more accustomed to her hands and feet when she's older," suggested Winnie, the peacemaker.
"They're useful for catching65 chickens at present, and that ought to be enough for you, Win," laughed Gwen. "You'd have lost those white Leghorns if I hadn't rescued them."
Winnie was considered chief "henwife" at the Parsonage. She could not give as much time to the poultry as she wished, and had to delegate many of her duties to Beatrice, or Nellie, the maid, but nevertheless held herself responsible for the welfare of her feathered flock. On Saturdays she delighted to array herself in an overall pinafore and carry out improvements in the hen-yard. Armed with hammer, nails, and pieces of wire netting, she would turn old packing-cases into chicken coops and nesting boxes, or make neat contrivances for separating various fussy66 matrons with rival broods of chicks. Winnie was really wonderfully handy and clever, and albeit67 her carpentry was naturally of a rather rough-and-ready description, it served the purpose for which she designed it, and saved calling in the services of the village joiner, an economy which her father much appreciated. Winnie was determined68 to run her poultry systematically69. She kept strict accounts, balancing the bills for corn and meal against current market prices for eggs and chickens, and being tremendously proud if her book showed a profit. On the whole she did well, for the fowls70 had a free run on the common at the back of
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the house, and could thus pick up much for themselves. With the help of the poultry, and a good vegetable garden, Beatrice was able to make her small housekeeping allowance supply the needs of the family, but there were no luxuries at the Parsonage. The girls possessed few or none of the pretty trifles dear to their sex, their pocket money was scanty71 almost to vanishing point, and they had early learnt the stern lesson of "doing without things". Adversity may be a hard task-mistress, but she is an excellent teacher in the school of life, and their Spartan72 upbringing had given the Gascoynes a certain resourcefulness and grit73 of character that they might possibly have lacked in more affluent74 surroundings. They were not a perfect family by any means, and had their squabbles and their cross moods like many another; but on the whole they were ready to give and take, make sacrifices for each other, and to try day by day to live a little nearer to that wonderful high standard that Father ever set before them, and which he himself followed so faithfully and truly.
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1
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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6
epithet
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| n.（用于褒贬人物等的）表述形容词，修饰语 | |
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inverse
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| adj.相反的，倒转的，反转的；n.相反之物；v.倒转 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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sculptors
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| 雕刻家，雕塑家( sculptor的名词复数 )； [天]玉夫座 | |
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11
chafed
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| v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的过去式 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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13
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dictatorial
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| adj. 独裁的，专断的 | |
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ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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friction
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| n.摩擦，摩擦力 | |
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rebellious
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| adj.造反的，反抗的，难控制的 | |
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18
dispositions
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| 安排( disposition的名词复数 )； 倾向； （财产、金钱的）处置； 气质 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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manifestation
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| n.表现形式；表明；现象 | |
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bravado
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| n.虚张声势，故作勇敢，逞能 | |
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vocation
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| n.职业，行业 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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reproofs
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| n.责备，责难，指责( reproof的名词复数 ) | |
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amiably
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| adv.和蔼可亲地，亲切地 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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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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conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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virtue
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| n.德行，美德；贞操；优点；功效，效力 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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coaxing
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的现在分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱；“锻炼”效应 | |
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39
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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40
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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42
lengthened
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| （时间或空间）延长，伸长( lengthen的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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43
haphazard
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| adj.无计划的，随意的，杂乱无章的 | |
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44
wrath
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| n.愤怒，愤慨，暴怒 | |
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45
remonstrance
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| n抗议，抱怨 | |
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46
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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47
mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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48
urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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49
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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50
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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51
jerseys
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| n.运动衫( jersey的名词复数 ) | |
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52
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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53
gales
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| 龙猫 | |
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54
sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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55
intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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56
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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57
fragrant
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| adj.芬香的，馥郁的，愉快的 | |
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58
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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59
toiled
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的过去式和过去分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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pruning
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| n.修枝，剪枝，修剪v.修剪（树木等）( prune的现在分词 )；精简某事物，除去某事物多余的部分 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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62
desultory
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| adj.散漫的，无方法的 | |
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63
scuttle
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| v.急赶，疾走，逃避；n.天窗；舷窗 | |
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64
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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65
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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66
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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67
albeit
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| conj.即使；纵使；虽然 | |
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68
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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69
systematically
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| adv.有系统地 | |
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70
fowls
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| 鸟( fowl的名词复数 )； 禽肉； 既不是这； 非驴非马 | |
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71
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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72
spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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grit
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| n.沙粒，决心，勇气；v.下定决心，咬紧牙关 | |
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affluent
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| adj.富裕的，富有的，丰富的，富饶的 | |
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