"I say, you old slacker, what about that sov.?" she began. "I suppose you got your Christmas presents all right?"
"Oh, yes, I got my presents!" said Gwen, trying to
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pass things off airily. "Not quite what I expected, though."
"But you can pay me back?"
"I'm afraid I can't just yet."
Netta's rather pretty face changed its expression considerably8.
"When can you, then?" she asked sharply. "I want to know."
"Could you wait a fortnight?"
"It's inconvenient9, but I might."
Netta was still scowling10. "Will you promise faithfully to bring it by the 1st of February?"
"I'll do my best," agreed Gwen, escaping from what was to both a very unpleasant interview.
She had mentioned a fortnight simply on the spur of the moment to put Netta off, but she knew that the 1st of February would bring no way out of her entanglement11. It was something, however, to have even a respite12 of two weeks; it gave her time to think and to lay plans. She wondered what Netta would do if, as seemed most likely, the debt still remained owing. She did not suppose Netta would turn informer to Miss Roscoe, but she might very possibly mention the matter to Winnie, who would tell Beatrice, who would promptly13 tell Father.
"Only a fortnight!" groaned14 Gwen, feeling like a criminal in a condemned15 cell. "Unless 'something turns up', as Mr. Micawber says in David Copperfield. If I were the heroine of a novel, a forgotten uncle in America would suddenly die, and leave me a million just at the opportune16 moment. But I'm only a very unromantic, every-day kind of person, not the
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forget-me-not-eyed, spun-gold-haired, wild-rose-petal-complexioned, pearly-toothed sort of girl who gets fortunes; I'm solid fact, not fiction. Most things are nowadays, I suppose."
Certainly the Fifth Form did not offer scope for romance or sentiment. Its daily doings were most prosaic17, a round in which Latin, mathematics, and chemistry were chiefly to the fore5, and the only appeal to the imagination was the weekly lecture on English literature from the Principal. Gwen liked these; Miss Roscoe had the knack18 of making historical dry bones live, and encouraged the girls to read for themselves. All her lessons were interesting, but in this she was inspiring. She was accustomed to give themes for fortnightly exercises, and at the first lecture of this new term she announced as a special subject: "An Essay on any one of the Great Writers of the Victorian Era", promising19 a volume of Browning's poems as a prize.
"I had intended to offer it for Christmas," she said, "but I thought you were too busy preparing for examinations to be able to give time to such an essay. I hope you'll do justice to the subject now."
It was a large order, thought Gwen, when already their homework had about reached its outside limit. Miss Roscoe was quite unconscionable in her demands on their time and brains. She fixed20 the standard of the Form so high that only the very bright girls could possibly keep up to it. Many slacked off entirely21, but Gwen could not, dared not slack. She knew Miss Roscoe was watching her work, and that very much depended upon her reports for the next year or two.
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Father had thrown out a few hints that had stirred her ambition and raised wild hopes for the future. She was aware that there were several good scholarships from Rodenhurst, and visions of College began to dawn on her horizon.
"'Gwen Gascoyne, B.A.', sounds no end. It would be worth the grind. I mayn't be the beauty of the family, but I believe I've got the best share of the brains. Beatrice would be proud of me if I took my degree. I must make something of this essay if I 'burn the midnight'. Miss Roscoe will expect me to turn up trumps22. I'll toil23 like a navvy!"
So Gwen decided24, and stuck to her resolution. She had an undoubted capacity for work, a power of application and of steady plodding25 that were of immense service, as well as more brilliant gifts. She attacked the question at once. The Victorian writers offered a fairly wide choice of subject. She hesitated at first between George Eliot and Dickens, and finally selected Thomas Carlyle. Something about the rugged26 old prophet attracted her, and she thought he would be a congenial theme for her pen. She spent every spare moment in reading his biographies or his works, till she felt she had him at her fingers' ends. Then, with a mass of notes as a foundation, she began her essay.
Most young writers undergo the same first agonies of composition: the vainly sought simile27, the sentence that will not turn nicely, the tiresome28 word that crops up too often, yet for which there seems no adequate substitute; the sudden lack of ideas, or the non-ability to clothe those one has in suitable language.
Gwen wrote and burnt, and wrote and burnt again,
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till at last she managed something, not at all up to the ideal of her imagination, but the best her limited literary experience could produce. She refused to show it to anybody at home, and bore it off to school to read over and correct during the dinner hour. She was sitting at her desk, busy altering sentences and erasing29 words, when Netta came into the room.
"Hello, you old solitary30 hermit31!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing here, with your nose buried in an exercise book? There's no getting at you nowadays. You'll grow old before your time, Gwen, my child! Come out this instant, and play basket-ball."
"Can't, so that's flat," responded Gwen. "Netta, if you love me, if you've any humanity in you, leave me alone. Basket-ball's off till I've finished this."
"Well, you've got to tell me what you're doing, at any rate. Let me look! No, Miss Modesty32, you're not going to hide your light under a bushel. I insist! Oho! What have we got here now?"
Netta dragged the book from Gwen's reluctant hands, and sitting on a neighbouring desk, began hastily to skim through the essay, giving grunts33 of approval as she read.
"First rate! I say, this is immense! Gwen, my hearty34, I didn't think you'd got it in you!"
"Will it do?" demanded Gwen anxiously. She had sat on metaphorical35 pins to hear Netta's verdict.
"Do? I should rather think it would! If Lemonade doesn't mark it A1, First Prize, I shall say she doesn't know her business, that's all! You're pretty safe for that book of Browning, in my opinion."
"Wish it were cash instead! But I shan't get it in
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any case," sighed Gwen. "If I did, I'd trade it for anything I could."
"You mercenary wretch36!"
"I'm so hard up. I'm no nearer paying what I owe you, Netta. I literally37 haven't a penny in my pocket I wish you'd take it in kind instead of money."
Netta sat silent, drumming with her fingers on the desk.
"I've a rather decent locket, if you'd care for that—" continued Gwen.
"Hush38! Be quiet! You've given me an idea, Gwen Gascoyne."
"Or I've a really jolly writing case—almost new—"
"I don't want your lockets or your writing cases; I've heaps of my own. I know one thing I do want, though, and if you like to trade, you can."
"Done! Only name it, and it's yours with my blessing39."
"Well, I want this essay—"
"My essay! What do you mean?"
Gwen snatched back her exercise book as a mother clutches her first-born.
"I mean what I say. If you like to hand over 'Thomas Carlyle' to me, I'll take it instead of the sov., and call us quits. It would be a new experience to win a prize. How amazed everyone would be!"
"You surely wouldn't pass it off as your own?"
"Why not?"
"Why, Netta! That would be rather strong, even for you!"
"I told you long ago I was no saint. Besides,
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what's the harm? It's a business arrangement. You offered to pay me in kind, and this happens to be the 'pound of flesh', I fancy. It's perfectly40 fair."
"Um! Don't quite see the fairness myself."
"But it is!" protested Netta rather huffily. "I believe lots of popular authors don't do all their own writing themselves. They engage secretaries to help them. I've even heard of clergymen buying their sermons."
"Oh, oh! Father doesn't!" Gwen's tone was warm.
"Well, I didn't say he did, but I believe it's done all the same. And if a vicar can read somebody else's sermon in the pulpit as if it were his own, I may hand in somebody else's essay. Quod est demonstrandum, my child."
"Can't see it!" grunted41 Gwen.
"Look here, Gwen Gascoyne, you've got to see it! I've been uncommonly42 patient with you, but I don't quite appreciate the joke of being done out of that sov. I must either have it or its equivalent. You can please yourself which."
Netta's eyes were flashing, and her mouth was twitching43 ominously44. She was a jolly enough fair-weather comrade, but she could be uncommonly nasty if things went wrong.
"I suppose you don't consider it unfair to keep me waiting all this time?" she added scathingly.
Gwen kicked the desk and groaned.
"Well, it just amounts to this: if you don't choose to come to terms, I'll tell Lemonade. Yes, I will! I don't care a scrap45 if I went into her room as well as
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you. You broke the china, and you'd get into the worst row. It wouldn't be pleasant for you. I think you'd better hand over Mr. Thomas Carlyle to me, my dear."
"And what am I to do, I should like to know?"
"Write another on a different author."
"There isn't time."
"Yes there is, heaps! I don't want it to be as good as this, naturally. Well, are you going to trade, or are you not? I can't wait here all day!"
For answer, Gwen held out the exercise book. She was in a desperately46 tight corner; everything seemed to have conspired47 against her. She knew Netta and her mad, reckless moods quite well enough to appreciate the fact that her threat to tell Miss Roscoe was no idle one. When her temper was roused, Netta was capable of anything.
"It's her fault more than mine if it's not fair. I really can't help it," thought Gwen, trying to find excuses for herself.
"Oh! Glad you've come to your senses at last!" sneered48 Netta, as she clutched the precious manuscript and stalked away, slamming the door behind her. There was no one else in the room, so Gwen laid her head down on the desk, and indulged in an altogether early Victorian exhibition of feeling. Her essay—her cherished essay, over which she had taken such superhuman pains, to be torn away from her like this! It was to have brought her such credit from Miss Roscoe, for even if it did not win the prize, it would surely be highly commended. And she had made herself a party to a fraud, for however much
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she might try to whitewash49 her act, she knew she had no right to allow Netta to use her work.
"Dad would despise me! Oh, what an abominable50 mix and muddle51 it all is! And I was going to start the New Year so straight!" wailed52 Gwen.
Netta in the meantime had put the essay away in her locker53 with the utmost satisfaction. She felt she had decidedly scored. Neither brilliant nor a hard worker, she had no opportunity of distinguishing herself in the Form under ordinary circumstances: here chance had flung into her hand the very thing she wanted. It would not take long to copy the sixteen pages of rather sprawling55 writing, then "Thomas Carlyle" would be her own.
"And a surprise for everyone!" she chuckled56 complacently57. "Of course, it's rather dear—a whole pound! But—yes, most undoubtedly58 it's worth it!"
To Gwen, not the lightest part of the business was that she was faced with the horrible necessity of writing another essay. Only two days remained, so time pressed. It was impossible to look up any subject adequately, so she chose Dickens, as being an author whose books she knew fairly well, and by dint59 of much brain racking and real hard labour contrived60 to give some slight sketch61 of his life and an appreciation62 of his genius. She was painfully conscious, however, that the result was poor, the style slipshod, and the general composition lacking both in unity54 and finish. She pulled a long face as she signed her name to it.
"That isn't going to do much for you, Gwen Gas
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coyne," she said to herself. "It won't even get 'commended'. Bah! I'm sick of the whole thing!"
She felt more sick still on the day when Miss Roscoe returned the essays.
"I had hoped the average standard would be higher," commented the Principal. "Very few girls have treated the subject in any really critical spirit. There is only one paper worthy63 of notice—that on Thomas Carlyle by Netta Goodwin, and it is so excellent that it stands head and shoulders above all the others. I am very pleased, Netta, very pleased indeed, that you should have done so well. Your essay is carefully thought out and nicely expressed, and is evidently the result of much painstaking64 work. You thoroughly65 deserve the prize which I offered, and I have written your name in the book."
The Fifth Form gasped66 as Netta, with a smile of infinite triumph, marched jauntily67 up the room to receive her copy of Browning's Poems. Each girl looked at her neighbour in almost incredulous astonishment68. Netta Goodwin, of all people in the world, to have won such praise!
Gwen drew her breath hard, and clenched69 her fists till her nails hurt her palms. At that moment, I am afraid, she hated Netta.
"Who was your author, Gwen? I chose Thackeray," said Louise Mawson afterwards.
"Dickens—and I only got 'fairly creditable'," responded Gwen. "It's just rotten!"
Which was a word utterly70 tabooed both at Rodenhurst and at home, but the sole one that seemed bad enough for the occasion.
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"So I hear Netta Goodwin's was the prize essay," remarked Father that evening. "Well, we can't all of us win prizes, can we? It was a strange coincidence that she should have written on Thomas Carlyle too!"
"Most remarkably71 strange, and very unfortunate for me," admitted Gwen, drinking her cup of bitterness to the dregs.
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1
interfered
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| v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 )；调停；妨碍；干涉 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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fore
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| adv.在前面；adj.先前的；在前部的；n.前部 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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ruse
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| n.诡计，计策；诡计 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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inconvenient
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| adj.不方便的，令人感到麻烦的 | |
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scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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entanglement
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| n.纠缠，牵累 | |
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respite
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| n.休息，中止，暂缓 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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prosaic
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| adj.单调的，无趣的 | |
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knack
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| n.诀窍，做事情的灵巧的，便利的方法 | |
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promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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trumps
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| abbr.trumpets 喇叭；小号；喇叭形状的东西；喇叭筒v.（牌戏）出王牌赢（一牌或一墩）( trump的过去式 )；吹号公告，吹号庆祝；吹喇叭；捏造 | |
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toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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plodding
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| a.proceeding in a slow or dull way | |
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rugged
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| adj.高低不平的，粗糙的，粗壮的，强健的 | |
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simile
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| n.直喻，明喻 | |
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tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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erasing
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| v.擦掉( erase的现在分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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30
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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hermit
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| n.隐士，修道者；隐居 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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metaphorical
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| a.隐喻的，比喻的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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conspired
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| 密谋( conspire的过去式和过去分词 )； 搞阴谋； （事件等）巧合； 共同导致 | |
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48
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whitewash
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| v.粉刷，掩饰；n.石灰水，粉刷，掩饰 | |
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50
abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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51
muddle
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| n.困惑，混浊状态；vt.使混乱，使糊涂，使惊呆；vi.胡乱应付，混乱 | |
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52
wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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53
locker
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| n.更衣箱，储物柜，冷藏室，上锁的人 | |
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unity
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| n.团结，联合，统一；和睦，协调 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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56
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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complacently
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| adv. 满足地, 自满地, 沾沾自喜地 | |
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undoubtedly
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| adv.确实地，无疑地 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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63
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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64
painstaking
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| adj.苦干的；艰苦的，费力的，刻苦的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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66
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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67
jauntily
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| adv.心满意足地；洋洋得意地；高兴地；活泼地 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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69
clenched
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
参考例句： |
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