In a former chapter we described, to some extent, the person and belongings1 of a very poor man with five thousand a year. Let us now make the acquaintance of a very rich one with an income of five hundred.
He has already introduced himself to the reader under the name of Samuel Twitter.
On the night of which we write Mrs Twitter happened to have a “few friends” to tea. And let no one suppose that Mrs Twitter’s few friends were to be put off with afternoon tea—that miserable2 invention of modern times—nor with a sham3 meal of sweet warm water and thin bread and butter. By no means. We have said that Samuel Twitter was rich, and Mrs Twitter, conscious of her husband’s riches, as well as grateful for them, went in for the substantial and luxurious4 to an amazing extent.
Unlimited5 pork sausages and inexhaustible buttered toast, balanced with muffins or crumpets, was her idea of “tea.” The liquid was a secondary point—in one sense—but it was always strong. It was the only strong liquid in fact allowed in the house, for Mr Twitter, Mrs Twitter, and all the little Twitters were members of the Blue Ribbon Army; more or less enthusiastic according to their light and capacity.
The young Twitters descended6 in a graduated scale from Sammy, the eldest7, (about sixteen), down through Molly, and Willie, and Fred, and Lucy, to Alice the so-called “baby”—though she was at that time a remarkably8 robust9 baby of four years.
Mrs Twitter’s few friends were aware of her tendencies, and appreciated her hospitality, insomuch that the “few” bade fair to develop by degrees into many.
Well, Mrs Twitter had her few friends to tea, and conviviality10 was at its height. The subject of conversation was poverty. Mrs Loper, a weak-minded but amiable11 lady, asserted that a large family with 500 pounds a year was a poor family. Mrs Loper did not know that Mrs Twitter’s income was five hundred, but she suspected it. Mrs Twitter herself carefully avoided giving the slightest hint on the subject.
“Of course,” continued Mrs Loper, “I don’t mean to say that people with five hundred are very poor, you know; indeed it all depends on the family. With six children like you, now, to feed and clothe and educate, and with everything so dear as it is now, I should say that five hundred was poverty.”
“Well, I don’t quite agree with you, Mrs Loper, on that point. To my mind it does not so much depend on the family, as on the notions, and the capacity to manage, in the head of the family. I remember one family just now, whose head was cut off suddenly, I may say in the prime of life. A hundred and fifty a year or thereabouts was the income the widow had to count on, and she was left with five little ones to rear. She trained them well, gave them good educations, made most of their garments with her own hands when they were little, and sent one of her boys to college, yet was noted12 for the amount of time she spent in visiting the poor, the sick, and the afflicted13, for whom she had always a little to spare out of her limited income. Now, if wealth is to be measured by results, I think we may say that that poor lady was rich. She was deeply mourned by a large circle of poor people when she was taken home to the better land. Her small means, having been judiciously14 invested by a brother, increased a little towards the close of life, but she never was what the world esteems15 rich.”
Mrs Twitter looked at a very tall man with a dark unhandsome countenance16, as if to invite his opinion.
“I quite agree with you,” he said, helping17 himself to a crumpet, “there are some people with small incomes who seem to be always in funds, just as there are other people with large incomes who are always hard-up. The former are really rich, the latter really poor.”
Having delivered himself of these sentiments somewhat sententiously, Mr Crackaby,—that was his name,—proceeded to consume the crumpet.
There was a general tendency on the part of the other guests to agree with their hostess, but one black sheep in the flock objected. He quite agreed, of course, with the general principle that liberality with small means was beautiful to behold18 as well as desirable to possess—the liberality, not the small means—and that, on the other hand, riches with a narrow niggardly19 spirit was abominable20, but then—and the black sheep came, usually, to the strongest part of his argument when he said “but then”—it was an uncommonly21 difficult thing, when everything was up to famine prices, and gold was depreciated22 in value owing to the gold-fields, and silver was nowhere, and coppers23 were changed into bronze,—exceedingly difficult to practise liberality and at the same time to make the two ends meet.
As no one clearly saw the exact bearing of the black sheep’s argument, they all replied with that half idiotic24 simper with which Ignorance seeks to conceal25 herself, and which Politeness substitutes for the more emphatic26 “pooh,” or the inelegant “bosh.” Then, applying themselves with renewed zest27 to the muffins, they put about ship, nautically28 speaking, and went off on a new tack29.
“Mr Twitter is rather late to-night, I think?” said Mr Crackaby, consulting his watch, which was antique and turnipy30 in character.
“He is, indeed,” replied the hostess, “business must have detained him, for he is the very soul of punctuality. That is one of his many good qualities, and it is such a comfort, for I can always depend on him to the minute,—breakfast, dinner, tea; he never keeps us waiting, as too many men do, except, of course, when he is unavoidably detained by business.”
“Ah, yes, business has much to answer for,” remarked Mrs Loper, in a tone which suggested that she held business to be an incorrigibly31 bad fellow; “whatever mischief32 happens with one’s husband it’s sure to be business that did it.”
“Pardon me, madam,” objected the black sheep, whose name, by the way, was Stickler33, “business does bring about much of the disaster that often appertains to wedded34 life, but mischief is sometimes done by other means, such, for instance, as accidents, robberies, murders—”
“Oh! Mr Stickler,” suddenly interrupted a stout35, smiling lady, named Larrabel, who usually did the audience part of Mrs Twitter’s little tea parties, “how can you suggest such ideas, especially when Mr Twitter is unusually late?”
Mr Stickler protested that he had no intention of alarming the company by disagreeable suggestions, that he had spoken of accident, robbery, and murder in the abstract.
“There, you’ve said it all over again,” interrupted Mrs Larrabel, with an unwonted frown.
“But then,” continued Stickler, regardless of the interruption, “a broken leg, or a rifled pocket and stunned37 person, or a cut windpipe, may be applicable to the argument in hand without being applied38 to Mr Twitter.”
“Surely,” said Mrs Loper, who deemed the reply unanswerable.
In this edifying39 strain the conversation flowed on until the evening grew late and the party began to grow alarmed.
“I do hope nothing has happened to him,” said Mrs Loper, with a solemnised face.
“I think not. I have seen him come home much later than this—though not often,” said the hostess, the only one of the party who seemed quite at ease, and who led the conversation back again into shallower channels.
As the night advanced, however, the alarm became deeper, and it was even suggested by Mrs Loper that Crackaby should proceed to Twitter’s office—a distance of three miles—to inquire whether and when he had left; while the smiling Mrs Larrabel proposed to send information to the headquarters of the police in Scotland Yard, because the police knew everything, and could find out anything.
“You have no idea, my dear,” she said, “how clever they are at Scotland Yard. Would you believe it, I left my umbrellar the other day in a cab, and I didn’t know the number of the cab, for numbers won’t remain in my head, nor the look of the cabman, for I never look at cabmen, they are so rude sometimes. I didn’t even remember the place where I got into the cab, for I can’t remember places when I’ve to go to so many, so I gave up my umbrellar for lost and was going away, when a policeman stepped up to me and asked in a very civil tone if I had lost anything. He was so polite and pleasant that I told him of my loss, though I knew it would do me no good, as he had not seen the cab or the cabman.
“‘I think, madam,’ he said, ‘that if you go down to Scotland Yard to-morrow morning, you may probably find it there.’
“‘Young man,’ said I, ‘do you take me for a fool!’
“‘No, madam, I don’t,’ he replied.
“‘Or do you take my umbrellar for a fool,’ said I, ‘that it should walk down to Scotland Yard of its own accord and wait there till I called for it?’
“‘Certainly not, madam,’ he answered with such a pleasant smile that I half forgave him.
“‘Nevertheless if you happen to be in the neighbourhood of Scotland Yard to-morrow,’ he added, ‘it might be as well to call in and inquire.’
“‘Thank you,’ said I, with a stiff bow as I left him. On the way home, however, I thought there might be something in it, so I did go down to Scotland Yard next day, where I was received with as much civility as if I had been a lady of quality, and was taken to a room as full of umbrellas as an egg’s full of meat—almost.
“‘You’d know the umbrellar if you saw it, madam,’ said the polite constable40 who escorted me.
“‘Know it, sir!’ said I, ‘yes, I should think I would. Seven and sixpence it cost me—new, and I’ve only had it a week—brown silk with a plain handle—why, there it is!’ And there it was sure enough, and he gave it to me at once, only requiring me to write my name in a book, which I did with great difficulty because of my gloves, and being so nervous. Now, how did the young policeman that spoke36 to me the day before know that my umbrellar would go there, and how did it get there? They say the days of miracles are over, but I don’t think so, for that was a miracle if ever there was one.”
“The days of miracles are indeed over, ma’am,” said the black sheep, “but then that is no reason why things which are in themselves commonplace should not appear miraculous41 to the uninstructed mind. When I inform you that our laws compel cabmen under heavy penalties to convey left umbrellas and parcels to the police-office, the miracle may not seem quite so surprising.”
Most people dislike to have their miracles unmasked. Mrs Larrabel turned from the black sheep to her hostess without replying, and repeated her suggestion about making inquiries43 at Scotland Yard—thus delicately showing that although, possibly, convinced, she was by no means converted.
They were interrupted at this point by a hurried knock at the street door.
“There he is at last,” exclaimed every one.
“It is his knock, certainly,” said Mrs Twitter, with a perplexed44 look, “but rather peculiar45—not so firm as usual—there it is again! Impatient! I never knew my Sam impatient before in all our wedded life. You’d better open the door, dear,” she said, turning to the eldest Twitter, he being the only one of the six who was privileged to sit up late, “Mary seems to have fallen asleep.”
Before the eldest Twitter could obey, the maligned46 Mary was heard to open the door and utter an exclamation47 of surprise, and her master’s step was heard to ascend48 the stair rather unsteadily.
The guests looked at each other anxiously. It might be that to some minds—certainly to that of the black sheep—visions of violated blue-ribbonism occurred. As certainly these visions did not occur to Mrs Twitter. She would sooner have doubted her clergyman than her husband. Trustfulness formed a prominent part of her character, and her confidence in her Sam was unbounded.
Even when her husband came against the drawing-room door with an awkward bang—the passage being dark—opened it with a fling, and stood before the guests with a flushed countenance, blazing eyes, a peculiar deprecatory smile, and a dirty ragged49 bundle in his arms, she did not doubt him.
“Forgive me, my dear,” he said, gazing at his wife in a manner that might well have justified50 the black sheep’s thought, “screwed,” “I—I—business kept me in the office very late, and then—” He cast an imbecile glance at the bundle.
“What ever have you got there, Sam?” asked his wondering wife.
“Goodness me! it moves!” exclaimed Mrs Loper.
“Live poultry51!” thought the black sheep, and visions of police cells and penal42 servitude floated before his depraved mental vision.
“Yes, Mrs Loper, it moves. It is alive—though not very much alive, I fear. My dear, I’ve found—found a baby—picked it up in the street. Not a soul there but me. Would have perished or been trodden on if I had not taken it up. See here!”
He untied52 the dirty bundle as he spoke, and uncovered the round little pinched face with the great solemn eyes, which gazed, still wonderingly, at the assembled company.
It is due to the assembled company to add that it returned the gaze with compound interest.
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1
belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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unlimited
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| adj.无限的，不受控制的，无条件的 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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remarkably
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| ad.不同寻常地，相当地 | |
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robust
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| adj.强壮的，强健的，粗野的，需要体力的，浓的 | |
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conviviality
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| n.欢宴，高兴，欢乐 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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judiciously
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| adv.明断地，明智而审慎地 | |
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esteems
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| n.尊敬，好评( esteem的名词复数 )v.尊敬( esteem的第三人称单数 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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behold
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| v.看，注视，看到 | |
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niggardly
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| adj.吝啬的，很少的 | |
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abominable
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| adj.可厌的，令人憎恶的 | |
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uncommonly
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| adv. 稀罕(极，非常) | |
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depreciated
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| v.贬值，跌价，减价( depreciate的过去式和过去分词 )；贬低，蔑视，轻视 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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zest
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| n.乐趣；滋味，风味；兴趣 | |
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nautically
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| 在航海方面 | |
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tack
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| n.大头钉；假缝，粗缝 | |
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turnipy
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| 芜菁状的，芜菁味的 | |
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incorrigibly
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| adv.无法矫正地；屡教不改地；无可救药地；不能矫正地 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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stickler
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| n.坚持细节之人 | |
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wedded
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| adj.正式结婚的；渴望…的，执著于…的v.嫁，娶，（与…）结婚( wed的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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edifying
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| adj.有教训意味的，教训性的，有益的v.开导，启发( edify的现在分词 ) | |
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constable
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| n.(英国)警察，警官 | |
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miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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maligned
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| vt.污蔑，诽谤（malign的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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ascend
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| vi.渐渐上升，升高；vt.攀登，登上 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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50
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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52
untied
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| 松开，解开( untie的过去式和过去分词 )； 解除，使自由； 解决 | |
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