Emma Jane Perkins's new winter dress was a blue and green Scotch1 plaid poplin, trimmed with narrow green velvet2-ribbon and steel nail-heads. She had a gray jacket of thick furry3 cloth with large steel buttons up the front, a pair of green kid gloves, and a gray felt hat with an encircling band of bright green feathers. The band began in front with a bird's head and ended behind with a bird's tail, and angels could have desired no more beautiful toilette. That was her opinion, and it was shared to the full by Rebecca.
But Emma Jane, as Rebecca had once described her to Mr. Adam Ladd, was a rich blacksmith's daughter, and she, Rebecca, was a little half-orphan from a mortgaged farm “up Temperance way,” dependent upon her spinster aunts for board, clothes, and schooling5. Scotch plaid poplins were manifestly not for her, but dark-colored woolen6 stuffs were, and mittens7, and last winter's coats and furs.
And how about hats? Was there hope in store for her there? she wondered, as she walked home from the Perkins house, full of admiration9 for Emma Jane's winter outfit10, and loyally trying to keep that admiration free from wicked envy. Her red-winged black hat was her second best, and although it was shabby she still liked it, but it would never do for church, even in Aunt Miranda's strange and never-to-be-comprehended views of suitable raiment.
There was a brown felt turban in existence, if one could call it existence when it had been rained on, snowed on, and hailed on for two seasons; but the trimmings had at any rate perished quite off the face of the earth, that was one comfort!
Emma Jane had said, rather indiscreetly, that at the village milliner's at Milliken's Mills there was a perfectly11 elegant pink breast to be had, a breast that began in a perfectly elegant solferino and terminated in a perfectly elegant magenta12; two colors much in vogue13 at that time. If the old brown hat was to be her portion yet another winter, would Aunt Miranda conceal14 its deficiencies from a carping world beneath the shaded solferino breast? WOULD she, that was the question?
Filled with these perplexing thoughts, Rebecca entered the brick house, hung up her hood15 in the entry, and went into the dining-room.
Miss Jane was not there, but Aunt Miranda sat by the window with her lap full of sewing things, and a chair piled with pasteboard boxes by her side. In one hand was the ancient, battered16, brown felt turban, and in the other were the orange and black porcupine17 quills18 from Rebecca's last summer's hat; from the hat of the summer before that, and the summer before that, and so on back to prehistoric19 ages of which her childish memory kept no specific record, though she was sure that Temperance and Riverboro society did. Truly a sight to chill the blood of any eager young dreamer who had been looking at gayer plumage!
Miss Sawyer glanced up for a second with a satisfied expression and then bent20 her eyes again upon her work.
“If I was going to buy a hat trimming,” she said, “I couldn't select anything better or more economical than these quills! Your mother had them when she was married, and you wore them the day you come to the brick house from the farm; and I said to myself then that they looked kind of outlandish, but I've grown to like em now I've got used to em. You've been here for goin' on two years and they've hardly be'n out o'wear, summer or winter, more'n a month to a time! I declare they do beat all for service! It don't seem as if your mother could a' chose em,—Aurelia was always such a poor buyer! The black spills are bout8 as good as new, but the orange ones are gittin' a little mite21 faded and shabby. I wonder if I couldn't dip all of em in shoe blackin'? It seems real queer to put a porcupine into hat trimmin', though I declare I don't know jest what the animiles are like, it's be'n so long sence I looked at the pictures of em in a geography. I always thought their quills stood out straight and angry, but these kind o' curls round some at the ends, and that makes em stand the wind better. How do you like em on the brown felt?” she asked, inclining her head in a discriminating22 attitude and poising23 them awkwardly on the hat with her work-stained hand.
How did she like them on the brown felt indeed?
Miss Sawyer had not been looking at Rebecca, but the child's eyes were flashing, her bosom24 heaving, and her cheeks glowing with sudden rage and despair. All at once something happened. She forgot that she was speaking to an older person; forgot that she was dependent; forgot everything but her disappointment at losing the solferino breast, remembering nothing but the enchanting25, dazzling beauty of Emma Jane Perkins's winter outfit; and suddenly, quite without warning, she burst into a torrent26 of protest.
“I will NOT wear those hateful porcupine quills again this winter! I will not! It's wicked, WICKED to expect me to! Oh! How I wish there never had been any porcupines27 in the world, or that all of them had died before silly, hateful people ever thought of trimming hat with them! They curl round and tickle28 my ear! They blow against my cheek and sting it like needles! They do look outlandish, you said so yourself a minute ago. Nobody ever had any but only just me! The only porcupine was made into the only quills for me and nobody else! I wish instead of sticking OUT of the nasty beasts, that they stuck INTO them, same as they do into my cheek! I suffer, suffer, suffer, wearing them and hating them, and they will last forever and forever, and when I'm dead and can't help myself, somebody'll rip them out of my last year's hat and stick them on my head, and I'll be buried in them! Well, when I am buried THEY will be, that's one good thing! Oh, if I ever have a child I'll let her choose her own feathers and not make her wear ugly things like pigs' bristles29 and porcupine quills!”
With this lengthy30 tirade31 Rebecca vanished like a meteor, through the door and down the street, while Miranda Sawyer gasped32 for breath, and prayed to Heaven to help her understand such human whirlwinds as this Randall niece of hers.
This was at three o'clock, and at half-past three Rebecca was kneeling on the rag carpet with her head in her aunt's apron33, sobbing34 her contrition35.
“Oh! Aunt Miranda, do forgive me if you can. It's the only time I've been bad for months! You know it is! You know you said last week I hadn't been any trouble lately. Something broke inside of me and came tumbling out of my mouth in ugly words! The porcupine quills make me feel just as a bull does when he sees a red cloth; nobody understands how I suffer with them!”
Miranda Sawyer had learned a few lessons in the last two years, lessons which were making her (at least on her “good days”) a trifle kinder, and at any rate a juster woman than she used to be. When she alighted on the wrong side of her four-poster in the morning, or felt an extra touch of rheumatism36, she was still grim and unyielding; but sometimes a curious sort of melting process seemed to go on within her, when her whole bony structure softened37, and her eyes grew less vitreous. At such moments Rebecca used to feel as if a superincumbent iron pot had been lifted off her head, allowing her to breath freely and enjoy the sunshine.
“Well,” she said finally, after staring first at Rebecca and then at the porcupine quills, as if to gain some insight into the situation, “well, I never, sence I was born int' the world, heerd such a speech as you've spoke38, an' I guess there probably never was one. You'd better tell the minister what you said and see what he thinks of his prize Sunday-school scholar. But I'm too old and tired to scold and fuss, and try to train you same as I did at first. You can punish yourself this time, like you used to. Go fire something down the well, same as you did your pink parasol! You've apologized and we won't say no more about it today, but I expect you to show by extry good conduct how sorry you be! You care altogether too much about your looks and your clothes for a child, and you've got a temper that'll certainly land you in state's prison some o' these days!”
Rebecca wiped her eyes and laughed aloud. “No, no, Aunt Miranda, it won't, really! That wasn't temper; I don't get angry with PEOPLE; but only, once in a long while, with things; like those,—cover them up quick before I begin again! I'm all right! Shower's over, sun's out!”
Miss Miranda looked at her searchingly and uncomprehendingly. Rebecca's state of mind came perilously39 near to disease, she thought.
“Have you seen me buyin' any new bunnits, or your Aunt Jane?” she asked cuttingly. “Is there any particular reason why you should dress better than your elders? You might as well know that we're short of cash just now, your Aunt Jane and me, and have no intention of riggin' you out like a Milltown fact'ry girl.”
“Oh-h!” cried Rebecca, the quick tears starting again to her eyes and the color fading out of her cheeks, as she scrambled41 up from her knees to a seat on the sofa beside her aunt. “Oh-h! How ashamed I am! Quick, sew those quills on to the brown turban while I'm good! If I can't stand them I'll make a neat little gingham bag and slip over them!”
And so the matter ended, not as it customarily did, with cold words on Miss Miranda's part and bitter feelings on Rebecca's, but with a gleam of mutual42 understanding.
Mrs. Cobb, who was a master hand at coloring, dipped the offending quills in brown dye and left them to soak in it all night, not only making them a nice warm color, but somewhat weakening their rocky spines43, so that they were not quite as rampantly44 hideous45 as before, in Rebecca's opinion.
Then Mrs. Perkins went to her bandbox in the attic46 and gave Miss Dearborn some pale blue velvet, with which she bound the brim of the brown turban and made a wonderful rosette, out of which the porcupine's defensive47 armor sprang, buoyantly and gallantly48, like the plume49 of Henry of Navarre.
Rebecca was resigned, if not greatly comforted, but she had grace enough to conceal her feelings, now that she knew economy was at the root of some of her aunt's decrees in matters of dress; and she managed to forget the solferino breast, save in sleep, where a vision of it had a way of appearing to her, dangling50 from the ceiling, and dazzling her so with its rich color that she used to hope the milliner would sell it that she might never be tempted51 with it when she passed the shop window.
One day, not long afterward52, Miss Miranda borrowed Mr. Perkins's horse and wagon53 and took Rebecca with her on a drive to union, to see about some sausage meat and head cheese. She intended to call on Mrs. Cobb, order a load of pine wood from Mr. Strout on the way, and leave some rags for a rug with old Mrs. Pease, so that the journey could be made as profitable as possible, consistent with the loss of time and the wear and tear on her second-best black dress.
The red-winged black hat was forcibly removed from Rebecca's head just before starting, and the nightmare turban substituted.
“You might as well begin to wear it first as last,” remarked Miranda, while Jane stood in the side door and sympathized secretly with Rebecca.
“I will!” said Rebecca, ramming54 the stiff turban down on her head with a vindictive55 grimace56, and snapping the elastic57 under her long braids; “but it makes me think of what Mr. Robinson said when the minister told him his mother-in-law would ride in the same buggy with him at his wife's funeral.”
“I can't see how any speech of Mr. Robinson's, made years an' years ago, can have anything to do with wearin' your turban down to union,” said Miranda, settling the lap robe over her knees.
“Well, it can; because he said: Have it that way, then, but it'll spile the hull58 blamed trip for me!'”
Jane closed the door suddenly, partly because she experienced a desire to smile (a desire she had not felt for years before Rebecca came to the brick house to live), and partly because she had no wish to overhear what her sister would say when she took in the full significance of Rebecca's anecdote59, which was a favorite one with Mr. Perkins.
It was a cold blustering60 day with a high wind that promised to bring an early fall of snow. The trees were stripped bare of leaves, the ground was hard, and the wagon wheels rattled61 noisily over the thank-you-ma'ams.
“I'm glad I wore my Paisley shawl over my cloak,” said Miranda. “Be you warm enough, Rebecca? Tie that white rigolette tighter round your neck. The wind fairly blows through my bones. I most wish t we'd waited till a pleasanter day, for this union road is all up hill or down, and we shan't get over the ground fast, it's so rough. Don't forget, when you go into Scott's, to say I want all the trimmin's when they send me the pork, for mebbe I can try out a little mite o' lard. The last load o' pine's gone turrible quick; I must see if “Bijah Flagg can't get us some cut-rounds at the mills, when he hauls for Squire62 Bean next time. Keep your mind on your drivin', Rebecca, and don't look at the trees and the sky so much. It's the same sky and same trees that have been here right along. Go awful slow down this hill and walk the hoss over Cook's Brook63 bridge, for I always suspicion it's goin' to break down under me, an' I shouldn't want to be dropped into that fast runnin' water this cold day. It'll be froze stiff by this time next week. Hadn't you better get out and lead”—
The rest of the sentence was very possibly not vital, but at any rate it was never completed, for in the middle of the bridge a fierce gale64 of wind took Miss Miranda's Paisley shawl and blew it over her head. The long heavy ends whirled in opposite directions and wrapped themselves tightly about her wavering bonnet65. Rebecca had the whip and the reins66, and in trying to rescue her struggling aunt could not steady her own hat, which was suddenly torn from her head and tossed against the bridge rail, where it trembled and flapped for an instant.
“My hat! Oh! Aunt Miranda, my hateful hat!” cried Rebecca, never remembering at the instant how often she had prayed that the “fretful porcupine” might some time vanish in this violent manner, since it refused to die a natural death.
She had already stopped the horse, so, giving her aunt's shawl one last desperate twitch67, she slipped out between the wagon wheels, and darted68 in the direction of the hated object, the loss of which had dignified69 it with a temporary value and importance.
The stiff brown turban rose in the air, then dropped and flew along the bridge; Rebecca pursued; it danced along and stuck between two of the railings; Rebecca flew after it, her long braids floating in the wind.
“Come back! Come back! Don't leave me alone with the team. I won't have it! Come back, and leave your hat!”
Miranda had at length extricated70 herself from the submerging shawl, but she was so blinded by the wind, and so confused that she did not measure the financial loss involved in her commands.
Rebecca heard, but her spirit being in arms, she made one more mad scramble40 for the vagrant71 hat, which now seemed possessed72 with an evil spirit, for it flew back and forth73, and bounded here and there, like a living thing, finally distinguishing itself by blowing between the horse's front and hind4 legs, Rebecca trying to circumvent74 it by going around the wagon, and meeting it on the other side.
It was no use; as she darted from behind the wheels the wind gave the hat an extra whirl, and scurrying75 in the opposite direction it soared above the bridge rail and disappeared into the rapid water below.
“Get in again!” cried Miranda, holding on her bonnet. “You done your best and it can't be helped, I only wish't I'd let you wear your black hat as you wanted to; and I wish't we'd never come such a day! The shawl has broke the stems of the velvet geraniums in my bonnet, and the wind has blowed away my shawl pin and my back comb. I'd like to give up and turn right back this minute, but I don't like to borrer Perkins's hoss again this month. When we get up in the woods you can smooth your hair down and tie the rigolette over your head and settle what's left of my bonnet; it'll be an expensive errant, this will!”
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1
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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2
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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3
furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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5
schooling
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| n.教育；正规学校教育 | |
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woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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7
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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8
bout
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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10
outfit
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| n.（为特殊用途的）全套装备，全套服装 | |
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11
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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magenta
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| n..紫红色（的染料）；adj.紫红色的 | |
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13
Vogue
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| n.时髦，时尚；adj.流行的 | |
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14
conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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15
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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16
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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17
porcupine
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| n.豪猪， 箭猪 | |
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18
quills
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| n.（刺猬或豪猪的）刺( quill的名词复数 )；羽毛管；翮；纡管 | |
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19
prehistoric
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| adj.（有记载的）历史以前的，史前的，古老的 | |
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20
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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21
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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22
discriminating
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| a.有辨别能力的 | |
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23
poising
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| 使平衡( poise的现在分词 )； 保持（某种姿势）； 抓紧； 使稳定 | |
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24
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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25
enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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26
torrent
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| n.激流，洪流；爆发，(话语等的)连发 | |
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porcupines
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| n.豪猪，箭猪( porcupine的名词复数 ) | |
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28
tickle
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| v.搔痒，胳肢；使高兴；发痒；n.搔痒，发痒 | |
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29
bristles
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| 短而硬的毛发，刷子毛( bristle的名词复数 ) | |
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30
lengthy
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| adj.漫长的，冗长的 | |
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31
tirade
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| n.冗长的攻击性演说 | |
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32
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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33
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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36
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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37
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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38
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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39
perilously
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| adv.充满危险地，危机四伏地 | |
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40
scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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41
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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42
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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43
spines
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| n.脊柱( spine的名词复数 )；脊椎；（动植物的）刺；书脊 | |
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44
rampantly
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| 粗暴地，猖獗的 | |
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45
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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46
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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47
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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48
gallantly
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| adv. 漂亮地，勇敢地，献殷勤地 | |
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49
plume
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| n.羽毛；v.整理羽毛，骚首弄姿，用羽毛装饰 | |
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50
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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51
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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52
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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53
wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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54
ramming
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| n.打结炉底v.夯实（土等）( ram的现在分词 )；猛撞；猛压；反复灌输 | |
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55
vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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56
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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57
elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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58
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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59
anecdote
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| n.轶事，趣闻，短故事 | |
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60
blustering
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| adj.狂风大作的，狂暴的v.外强中干的威吓( bluster的现在分词 )；咆哮；（风）呼啸；狂吹 | |
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61
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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62
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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63
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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64
gale
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| n.大风，强风，一阵闹声（尤指笑声等） | |
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65
bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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66
reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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67
twitch
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| v.急拉，抽动，痉挛，抽搐；n.扯，阵痛，痉挛 | |
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68
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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69
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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70
extricated
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| v.使摆脱困难，脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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72
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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73
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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74
circumvent
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| vt.环绕，包围；对…用计取胜，智胜 | |
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75
scurrying
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| v.急匆匆地走( scurry的现在分词 ) | |
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