For a considerable time the Bible-seller plied2 Sam with every argument he could think of in order to induce him to return home, and he was still in the middle of his effort when the door opened, and two young men of gentlemanly appearance walked in, bearing a portable harmonium between them.
They were followed by one of the ladies of the Beehive, who devote all their time—and, may we not add, all their hearts—to the rescue of the perishing. Along with her came a tall, sweet-faced girl. She was our friend Hetty Frog, who, after spending her days at steady work, spent some of her night hours in labours of love. Hetty was passionately3 fond of music, and had taught herself to play the harmonium sufficiently4 to accompany simple hymns5.
After her came the missionary6, whose kind face was familiar to most of the homeless ones there. They greeted him with good-natured familiarity, but some of their faces assumed a somewhat vinegar aspect when the tall form of Sir Richard Brandon followed Seaward.
“A bloated haristocrat!” growled7 one of the men.
“Got a smart little darter, anyhow,” remarked another, as Di, holding tight to her father’s hand, glanced from side to side with looks of mingled8 pity and alarm.
For poor little Di had a not uncommon9 habit of investing everything in couleur de rose, and the stern reality which met her had not the slightest tinge10 of that colour. Di had pictured to herself clean rags and picturesque11 poverty. The reality was dirty rags and disgusting poverty. She had imagined sorrowful faces. Had she noted12 them when the missionary passed, she might indeed have seen kindly13 looks; but when her father passed there were only scowling14 faces, nearly all of which were unshaven and dirty. Di had not thought at all of stubbly beards or dirt! Neither had she thought of smells, or of stifling15 heat that it was not easy to bear. Altogether poor little Di was taken down from a height on that occasion to which she never again attained16, because it was a false height. In after years she reached one of the true heights—which was out of sight higher than the false one!
There was something very businesslike in these missionaries17, for there was nothing of the simply amateur in their work—like the visit of Di and her father. They were familiar with the East-end mines; knew where splendid gems18 and rich gold were to be found, and went about digging with the steady persistence19 of the labourer, coupled, however, with the fire of the enthusiast20.
They carried the harmonium promptly21 to the most conspicuous22 part of the room, planted it there, opened it, placed a stool in front of it, and one of the brightest diamonds from that mine—in the person of Hetty Frog—sat down before it. Simply, and in sweet silvery tones, she sang—“Come to the Saviour23.”
The others joined—even Sir Richard Brandon made an attempt to sing—as he had done on a previous occasion, but without much success, musically speaking. Meanwhile, John Seaward turned up the passage from which he had prepared to speak that evening. And so eloquent24 with nature’s simplicity25 was the missionary, that the party soon forgot all about the Twitters while the comforting Gospel was being urged upon the unhappy creatures around.
But we must not forget the Twitters. They are our text and sermon just now!
Young Sam Twitter had risen with the intention of going out when the missionary entered, for words of truth only cut him to the heart. But his companion whispered him to wait a bit. Soon his attention was riveted26.
While he sat there spell-bound, a shabby-genteel man entered and sat down beside him. He wore a broad wide-awake, very much slouched over his face, and a coat which had once been fine, but now bore marks of having been severely27 handled—as if recently rubbed by a drunken wearer on whitewashed28 and dirty places. The man’s hands were not so dirty, however, as one might have expected from his general appearance, and they trembled much. On one of his fingers was a gold ring. This incongruity29 was lost on Sam, who was too much absorbed to care for the new comer, and did not even notice that he pushed somewhat needlessly close to him.
These things were not, however, lost on Reggie North, who regarded the man with some surprise, not unmixed with suspicion.
When, after a short time, however, this man laid his hand gently on that of Sam and held it, the boy could no longer neglect his eccentricities30. He naturally made an effort to pull the hand away, but the stranger held it fast. Having his mind by that time entirely31 detached from the discourse32 of the missionary, Sam looked at the stranger in surprise, but could not see his face because of the disreputable wide-awake which he wore. But great was his astonishment33, not to say alarm, when he felt two or three warm tears drop on his hand.
Again he tried to pull it away, but the strange man held it tighter. Still further, he bent34 his head over it and kissed it.
A strange unaccountable thrill ran through the boy’s frame. He stooped, looked under the brim of the hat, and beheld35 his father!
“Sammy—dear, dear Sammy,” whispered the man, in a husky voice.
But Sammy could not reply. He was thunderstruck. Neither could his father speak, for he was choking.
But Reggie North had heard enough. He was quick-witted, and at once guessed the situation.
“Now then, old gen’lm’n,” he whispered, “don’t you go an’ make a fuss, if you’re wise. Go out as quiet as you came in, an’ leave this young ’un to me. It’s all right. I’m on your side.”
Samuel Twitter senior was impressed with the honesty of the man’s manner, and the wisdom of his advice. Letting go the hand, after a parting squeeze, he rose up and left the room. Two minutes later, North and Sammy followed.
They found the old father outside, who again grasped his son’s hand with the words, “Sammy, my boy—dear Sammy;” but he never got further than that.
Number 666 was there too.
“You’ll find the cab at the end of the street, sir,” he said, and next moment Sammy found himself borne along—not unwillingly—by North and his father.
A cab door was opened. A female form was seen with outstretched arms.
“Mother!”
“Sammy—darling—”
The returning prodigal disappeared into the cab. Mr Twitter turned round.
“Thank you. God bless you, whoever you are,” he said, fumbling37 in his vest pocket; having forgotten that he represented an abject38 beggar, and had no money there.
“No thanks to me, sir. Look higher,” said the Bible-seller, thrusting the old gentleman almost forcibly into the vehicle. “Now then, cabby, drive on.”
The cabby obeyed. Having already received his instructions he did not drive home. Where he drove to is a matter of small consequence. It was to an unknown house, and a perfect stranger to Sammy opened the door. Mrs Twitter remained in the cab while Sammy and his father entered the house, the latter carrying a bundle in his hand. They were shown into what the boy must have considered—if he considered anything at all just then—a preposterously39 small room.
The lady of the house evidently expected them, for she said, “The bath is quite ready, sir.”
“Now, Sammy,—dear boy,” said Mr Twitter, “off with your rags—and g–git into that b–bath.”
Obviously Mr Twitter did not speak with ease. In truth it was all he could do to contain himself, and he felt that his only chance of bearing up was to say nothing more than was absolutely necessary in short ejaculatory phrases. Sammy was deeply touched, and began to wash his dirty face with a few quiet tears before taking his bath.
“Now then, Sammy—look sharp! You didn’t use—to—be—so—slow! eh?”
“No, father. I suppose it—it—is want of habit. I haven’t undressed much of late.”
This very nearly upset poor Mr Twitter. He made no reply, but assisted his son to disrobe with a degree of awkwardness that tended to delay progress.
“It—it’s not too hot—eh?”
“Oh! no, father. It’s—it’s—v–very nice.”
“Go at it with a will, Sammy. Head and all, my boy—down with it. And don’t spare the soap. Lots of soap here, Sammy—no end of soap!”
The truth of which Mr Twitter proceeded to illustrate40 by covering his son with a lather41 that caused him quickly to resemble whipped cream.
“Oh! hold on, father, it’s getting into my eyes.”
“My boy—dear Sammy—forgive me. I didn’t quite know what I was doing. Never mind. Down you go again, Sammy—head and all. That’s it. Now, that’s enough; out you come.”
“Oh! father,” said the poor boy, while invisible tears trickled42 over his wet face, as he stepped out of the bath, “it’s so good of you to forgive me so freely.”
“Forgive you, my son! forgive! why, I’d—I’d—” He could say no more, but suddenly clasped Sammy to his heart, thereby43 rendering44 his face and person soap-suddy and wet to a ridiculous extent.
Unclasping his arms and stepping back, he looked down at himself.
“You dirty boy! what d’you mean by it?”
“It’s your own fault, daddy,” replied Sam, with a hysterical45 laugh, as he enveloped46 himself in a towel.
A knock at the bath-room door here produced dead silence.
“Please, sir,” said a female voice, “the lady in the cab sends to say that she’s gettin’ impatient.”
“Tell the lady in the cab to drive about and take an airing for ten minutes,” replied Mr Twitter with reckless hilarity47.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, my boy, here’s your toggery,” said the irrepressible father, hovering48 round his recovered son like a moth36 round a candle—“your best suit, Sammy; the one you used to wear only on Sundays, you extravagant49 fellow.”
Sammy put it on with some difficulty from want of practice, and, after combing out and brushing his hair, he presented such a changed appearance that none of his late companions could have recognised him. His father, after fastening up his coat with every button in its wrong hole, and causing as much delay as possible by assisting him to dress, finally hustled50 him down-stairs and into the cab, where he was immediately re-enveloped by Mrs Twitter.
He was not permitted to see any one that night, but was taken straight to his room, where his mother comforted, prayed with, fed and fondled him, and then allowed him to go to bed.
Next morning early—before breakfast—Mrs Twitter assembled all the little Twitters, and put them on chairs in a row—according to order, for Mrs Twitter’s mind was orderly in a remarkable51 degree. They ranged from right to left thus:—
Molly, Willie, Fred, Lucy, and Alice—with Alice’s doll on a doll’s chair at the left flank of the line.
“Now children,” said Mrs Twitter, sitting down in front of the row with an aspect so solemn that they all immediately made their mouths very small and their eyes very large—in which respect they brought themselves into wonderful correspondence with Alice’s doll. “Now children, your dear brother Sammy has come home.”
“Oh! how nice! Where has he been? What has he seen? Why has he been away so long? How jolly!” were the various expressions with which the news was received.
“Silence.”
The stillness that followed was almost oppressive, for the little Twitters had been trained to prompt obedience52. To say truth they had not been difficult to train, for they were all essentially53 mild.
“Now, remember, when he comes down to breakfast you are to take no notice whatever of his having been away—no notice at all.”
“Are we not even to say good-morning or kiss him, mamma?” asked little Alice with a look of wonder.
“Dear child, you do not understand me. We are all charmed to see Sammy back, and so thankful—so glad—that he has come, and we will kiss him and say whatever we please to him except,” (here she cast an awful eye along the line and dropped her voice), “except ask him where—he—has—been.”
“Mayn’t we ask him how he liked it, mamma?” said Alice.
“Liked what, child?”
“Where he has been, mamma.”
“No, not a word about where he has been; only that we are so glad, so very glad, to see him back.”
Fred, who had an argumentative turn of mind, thought that this would be a rather demonstrative though indirect recognition of the fact that Sammy had been somewhere that was wrong, but, having been trained to unquestioning obedience, Fred said nothing.
“Now, dolly,” whispered little Alice, bending down, “’member dat—you’re so glad Sammy’s come back; mustn’t say more—not a word more.”
“It is enough for you to know, my darlings,” continued Mrs Twitter, “that Sammy has been wandering and has come back.”
“Listen, Dolly, you hear? Sammy’s been wandering an’ come back. Dat’s ’nuff for you.”
“You see, dears,” continued Mrs Twitter, with a slightly perplexed54 look, caused by her desire to save poor Sammy’s feelings, and her anxiety to steer55 clear of the slightest approach to deception56, “you see, Sammy has been long away, and has been very tired, and won’t like to be troubled with too many questions at breakfast, you know, so I want you all to talk a good deal about anything you like—your lessons,—for instance, when he comes down.”
“Before we say good-morning, mamma, or after?” asked Alice, who was extremely conscientious57.
“Darling child,” exclaimed the perplexed mother, “you’ll never take it in. What I want to impress on you is—”
She stopped, suddenly, and what it was she meant to impress we shall never more clearly know, for at that moment the foot of Sammy himself was heard on the stair.
“Now, mind, children, not a word—not—a—word!”
The almost preternatural solemnity induced by this injunction was at once put to flight by Sammy, at whom the whole family flew with one accord and a united shriek—pulling him down on a chair and embracing him almost to extinction58.
Fortunately for Sammy, and his anxious mother, that which the most earnest desire to obey orders would have failed to accomplish was brought about by the native selfishness of poor humanity, for, the first burst of welcome over, Alice began an elaborate account of her Dolly’s recent proceedings59, which seemed to consist of knocking her head against articles of furniture, punching out her own eyes and flattening60 her own nose; while Fred talked of his latest efforts in shipbuilding; Willie of his hopes in regard to soldiering, and Lucy of her attempts to draw and paint.
Mr and Mrs Twitter contented61 themselves with gazing on Sammy’s somewhat worn face, and lying in watch, so that, when Alice or any of the young members of the flock seemed about to stray on the forbidden ground, they should be ready to descend62, like two wolves on the fold, remorselessly change the subject of conversation, and carry all before them.
Thus tenderly was that prodigal son received back to his father’s house.
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1
prodigal
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| adj.浪费的，挥霍的，放荡的 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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hymns
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| n.赞美诗，圣歌，颂歌( hymn的名词复数 ) | |
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missionary
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| adj.教会的，传教(士)的；n.传教士 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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8
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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9
uncommon
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| adj.罕见的，非凡的，不平常的 | |
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10
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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11
picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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12
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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13
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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14
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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15
stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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17
missionaries
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| n.传教士( missionary的名词复数 ) | |
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18
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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persistence
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| n.坚持，持续，存留 | |
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20
enthusiast
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| n.热心人，热衷者 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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22
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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23
saviour
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| n.拯救者，救星 | |
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24
eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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25
simplicity
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| n.简单，简易；朴素；直率，单纯 | |
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26
riveted
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| 铆接( rivet的过去式和过去分词 )； 把…固定住； 吸引； 引起某人的注意 | |
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27
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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incongruity
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| n.不协调，不一致 | |
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30
eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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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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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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35
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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moth
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| n.蛾，蛀虫 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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abject
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| adj.极可怜的，卑屈的 | |
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preposterously
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| adv.反常地；荒谬地；荒谬可笑地；不合理地 | |
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40
illustrate
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| v.举例说明，阐明；图解，加插图 | |
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41
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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42
trickled
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| v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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43
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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44
rendering
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| n.表现，描写 | |
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45
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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46
enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
hilarity
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| n.欢乐；热闹 | |
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48
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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49
extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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50
hustled
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| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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52
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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53
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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54
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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55
steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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56
deception
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| n.欺骗，欺诈；骗局，诡计 | |
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57
conscientious
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| adj.审慎正直的，认真的，本着良心的 | |
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58
extinction
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| n.熄灭，消亡，消灭，灭绝，绝种 | |
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59
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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60
flattening
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| n. 修平 动词flatten的现在分词 | |
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61
contented
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| adj.满意的，安心的，知足的 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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