William's family had welcomed the suggestion of William's becoming a scout.
They were notoriously optimistic where William was concerned.
William's elder brother only was doubtful.
"You know what William is," he said, and in that dark saying much was contained.
Things went fairly smoothly8 for some time. He took the scouts9' law of a daily deed of kindness in its most literal sense. He was to do one (and one only) deed of kindness a day. There were times when he forced complete strangers, much to their embarrassment10, to be the unwilling11 recipients12 of his deed of kindness. There were times when he answered any demand for help with a cold: "No, I've done it to-day."
He received with saint-like patience the eloquence13 of his elder sister when she found her silk scarf tied into innumerable knots.
"Well, they're jolly good knots," was all he said.
He had been looking forward to the holidays for a long time. He was to "go under canvas" at the end of the first week.
The first day of the holidays began badly. William's father had been disturbed by William, whose room was just above and who had spent most of the night performing gymnastics as instructed by his scout-master.
"No, he didn't say do it at nights, but he said do it. He said it would make us grow up strong men. Don't you want me to grow up a strong man? He's ever so strong an' he did 'em. Why shun't I?"
His mother found a pan with the bottom burnt out and at once accused William of the crime. William could not deny it.
"Well, I was makin' sumthin', sumthin' he'd told us an' I forgot it. Well, I've got to make things if I'm a scout. I didn't mean to forget it. I won't forget it next time. It's a rotten pan, anyway, to burn itself into a hole jus' for that."
At this point William's father received a note from a neighbour whose garden adjoined William's and whose life had been rendered intolerable by William's efforts upon his bugle14.
The bugle was confiscated15.
"Well," he muttered, "I'm goin' under canvas next week an' I'm jolly glad I'm goin'. P'r'aps you'll be sorry when I'm gone."
He went out into the garden and stood gazing moodily17 into space, his hands in the pocket of his short scout trousers, for William dressed on any and every occasion in his official costume.
"Can't even have the bugle," he complained to the landscape. "Can't even use their rotten ole pans. Can't tie knots in any of their ole things. Wot's the good of bein' a scout?"
"I'd like to do somethin'," he confided19 to a rose bush with a ferocious20 scowl21. "Somethin' jus' to show 'em."
Then his face brightened. He had an idea.
He'd get lost. He'd get really lost. They'd be sorry then alright. They'd p'r'aps think he was dead and they'd be sorry then alright. He imagined their relief, their tearful apologies when at last he returned to the bosom22 of his family. It was worth trying, anyway.
He set off cheerfully down the drive. He decided23 to stay away for lunch and tea and supper, and to return at dusk to a penitent24, conscience-stricken family.
He first made his way to a neighbouring wood, where he arranged a pile of twigs25 for a fire, but they refused to light, even with the aid of the match that William found adhering to a piece of putty in the recess26 of one of his pockets.
Slightly dispirited, he turned his attention to his handkerchief and tied knots in it till it gave way under the strain. William's handkerchiefs, being regularly used to perform the functions of blotting27 paper among other duties not generally entrusted28 to handkerchiefs, were always in the last stages of decrepitude29.
He felt rather bored and began to wonder whether it was lunch-time or not.
He then "scouted30" the wood and by his wood lore31 traced three distinct savage32 tribes' passage through the wood and found the tracks of several elephants. He engaged in deadly warfare33 with about half-a-dozen lions, then tired of the sport. It must be about lunch-time. He could imagine Ethel, his sister, hunting for him wildly high and low with growing pangs34 of remorse35. She'd wish she'd made less fuss over that old scarf. His mother would recall the scene over the pan and her heart would fail her. His father would think with shame of his conduct in the matter of the bugle.
"Poor William! How cruel we were! How different we shall be if only he comes home ...!"
He could almost hear the words. Perhaps his mother was weeping now. His father—wild-eyed and white-lipped—was pacing his study, waiting for news, eager to atone36 for his unkindness to his missing son. Perhaps he had the bugle on the table ready to give back to him. Perhaps he'd even bought him a new one.
He imagined the scene of his return. He would be nobly forgiving. He would accept the gift of the new bugle without a word of reproach. His heart thrilled at the thought of it.
He was getting jolly hungry. It must be after lunch-time. But it would spoil it all to go home too early.
Here he caught sight of a minute figure regarding him with a steady gaze and holding a paper bag in one hand.
William stared down at him.
"Wot you dressed up like that for?" said the apparition37, with a touch of scorn in his voice.
"William."
"Mine's Thomas. Will you catch me a wopse? Look at my wopses!"
He opened the bag slightly and William caught sight of a crowd of wasps40 buzzing about inside the bag.
"Want more," demanded the infant. "Want lots more. Look. Snells!"
"Watch 'em put their horns out! Watch 'em walk. Look! They're walkin'. They're walkin'."
His voice was a scream of ecstasy43. He took them up and returned them to their pocket. From another he drew out a wriggling44 mass.
He returned the wood-lice to his pocket except one, which he held between a finger and thumb laid thoughtfully against his lip. "Want wopses now. You get 'em for me."
William roused himself from his bewilderment.
"How—how do you catch 'em?" he said.
"Wings," replied Thomas. "Get hold of their wings an' they don't sting. Sometimes they do, though," he added casually. "Then your hands go big."
A wasp41 settled near him, and very neatly46 the young naturalist47 picked him up and put him in his paper prison.
"Now you get one," he ordered William.
William determined48 not to be outshone by this minute but dauntless stranger. As a wasp obligingly settled on a flower near him, he put out his hand, only to withdraw it with a yell of pain and apply it to his mouth.
"You stung?" he said. "Did it sting you? Funny!"
"Come on, boy!" he ordered at last. "Let's go somewhere else."
William's bewildered dignity made a last stand.
"You can go," he said. "I'm playin' by myself."
"All right!" agreed Thomas. "You play by you'self an' me play by myself, an' we'll be together—playin' by ourselves."
It must be jolly late—almost tea-time.
"I'm hungry," said Thomas suddenly. "Give me some brekfust."
"Well, find some," persisted the infant.
"I can't. There isn't any to find."
"Well, buy some!"
"I haven't any money."
"Well, buy some money."
Thomas's blue eyes, beneath a mop of curls, met his coldly.
"Don't talk so loud," he said sternly. "There's some blackberries there. You can get me some blackberries."
"There!" he persisted. "Jus' where I'm pointing. Lovely great big suge ones. Get 'em for my brekfust."
Reluctantly the scout turned to perform his deed of kindness.
Thomas consumed blackberries faster than William could gather them.
"Up there," he commanded. "No, the one right up there I want. I want it kick. I've etten all the others."
William was scratched and breathless, and his shirt was torn when at last the rapacious57 Thomas was satisfied. Then he partook of a little refreshment58 himself, while Thomas turned out his pockets.
"I'll let 'em go now," he said.
One of his wood-lice, however, stayed motionless where he put it.
"I 'speck60 me's the matter wif it," said Thomas succinctly61. "Now, get me some lickle fishes, an' tadpoles62 an' water sings," he went on cheerfully.
William turned round from his blackberry-bush.
"Well, I won't," he said decidedly. "I've had enough!"
"You've had 'nuff brekfust," said Thomas sternly. "I've found a lickle tin for the sings, so be kick. Oo, here's a fly! A green fly! It's sittin' on my finger. Does it like me 'cause it's sittin' on my finger?"
"No," said William, turning a purple-stained countenance63 round scornfully.
It must be nearly night. He didn't want to be too hard on them, to make his mother ill or anything. He wanted to be as kind as possible. He'd forgive them at once when he got home. He'd ask for one or two things he wanted, as well as the new bugle. A new penknife, and an engine with a real boiler64.
"Waffor does it not like me?" persisted Thomas.
William was silent. Question and questioner were beneath contempt.
"Waffor does it not like me?" he shouted stridently.
"Flies don't like people, silly."
"Waffor not?" retorted Thomas.
"They don't know anything about them."
"Well, I'll tell it about me. My name's Thomas," he said to the fly politely. "Now does it like me?"
"Come on!" he said. "Come on an' find sings for me."
William's manly66 spirit was by this time so far broken that he followed his new acquaintance to a neighbouring pond, growling67 threateningly but impotently.
"Now," commanded his small tyrant68, "take off your boots an' stockings an' go an' find things for me."
"No," said Thomas, "crockerdiles might be there an' bite my toes. An pittanopotamuses might be there. If you don't go in, I'll scream an' scream an' scream."
William went in.
He walked gingerly about the muddy pond. Thomas watched him critically from the bank.
"I don't like your hair," he said confidingly70.
William growled.
He caught various small swimming objects in the tin, and brought them to the bank for inspection71.
"I want more'n that," said Thomas calmly.
"Well, you won't get it," retorted William.
He began to put on his boots and stockings, wondering desperately72 how to rid himself of his unwanted companion. But Fate solved the problem. With a loud cry a woman came running down the path.
"Tommy," she said. "My little darling Tommy. I thought you were lost!" She turned furiously to William. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said. "A great boy of your age leading a little child like this into mischief! If his father was here, he'd show you. You ought to know better! And you a scout."
She turned away indignantly, holding Thomas's hand.
"You're never to go with that nasty rough boy again, darling," she said.
"Got lots of wopses an' some fishes," murmured Thomas contentedly75.
They disappeared down the path. With a feeling of depression and disillusionment William turned to go home.
Then his spirits rose. After all, he'd got rid of Thomas, and he was going home to a contrite76 family. It must be about supper-time. It would be getting dark soon. But it still stayed light a long time now. It wouldn't matter if he just got in for supper. It would have given them time to think things over. He could see his father speaking unsteadily, and holding out his hand.
"My boy ... let bygones be bygones ... if there is anything you want...."
His father had never said anything of this sort to him yet, but, by a violent stretch of imagination, he could just conceive it.
His mother, of course, would cry over him, and so would Ethel.
"Dear William ... do forgive us ... we have been so miserable77 since you went away ... we will never treat you so again."
This again was unlike the Ethel he knew, but sorrow has a refining effect on all characters.
He entered the gate self-consciously. Ethel was at the front-door. She looked at his torn shirt and mud-caked knees.
"You'd better hurry if you're going to be ready for lunch," she said coldly.
"Ten to one. Father's in, so I warn you," she added unpleasantly.
He entered the house in a dazed fashion. His mother was in the hall.
"William!" she said impatiently. "Another shirt torn! You really are careless. You'll have to stop being a scout if that's the way you treat your clothes. And look at your knees!"
Pale and speechless, he went towards the stairs. His father was coming out of the library smoking a pipe. He looked at his son grimly.
"If you aren't downstairs cleaned by the time the lunch-bell goes, my son," he said, "you won't see that bugle of yours this side of Christmas."
William swallowed.
"Yes, father," he said meekly.
He went slowly upstairs to the bathroom.
Life was a rotten show.
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收听单词发音
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1
scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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radius
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| n.半径，半径范围；有效航程，范围，界限 | |
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3
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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4
emanated
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| v.从…处传出，传出( emanate的过去式和过去分词 )；产生，表现，显示 | |
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5
dour
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| adj.冷酷的，严厉的；（岩石）嶙峋的；顽强不屈 | |
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6
hostility
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| n.敌对，敌意；抵制［pl.］交战，战争 | |
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7
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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9
scouts
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| 侦察员[机，舰]( scout的名词复数 )； 童子军； 搜索； 童子军成员 | |
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10
embarrassment
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| n.尴尬；使人为难的人(事物)；障碍；窘迫 | |
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11
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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12
recipients
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| adj.接受的；受领的；容纳的；愿意接受的n.收件人；接受者；受领者；接受器 | |
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13
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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14
bugle
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| n.军号，号角，喇叭；v.吹号，吹号召集 | |
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15
confiscated
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| 没收，充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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17
moodily
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| adv.喜怒无常地；情绪多变地；心情不稳地；易生气地 | |
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18
avenged
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| v.为…复仇，报…之仇( avenge的过去式和过去分词 )；为…报复 | |
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19
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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20
ferocious
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| adj.凶猛的，残暴的，极度的，十分强烈的 | |
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21
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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22
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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23
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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24
penitent
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| adj.后悔的；n.后悔者；忏悔者 | |
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25
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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26
recess
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| n.短期休息，壁凹（墙上装架子，柜子等凹处） | |
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27
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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28
entrusted
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| v.委托，托付( entrust的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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29
decrepitude
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| n.衰老；破旧 | |
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30
scouted
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| 寻找，侦察( scout的过去式和过去分词 )； 物色（优秀运动员、演员、音乐家等） | |
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31
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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32
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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34
pangs
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| 突然的剧痛( pang的名词复数 )； 悲痛 | |
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35
remorse
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| n.痛恨，悔恨，自责 | |
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atone
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| v.赎罪，补偿 | |
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37
apparition
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| n.幽灵，神奇的现象 | |
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38
scowled
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
boredom
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| n.厌烦，厌倦，乏味，无聊 | |
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40
wasps
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| 黄蜂( wasp的名词复数 )； 胡蜂； 易动怒的人； 刻毒的人 | |
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41
wasp
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| n.黄蜂，蚂蜂 | |
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42
snails
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| n.蜗牛；迟钝的人；蜗牛( snail的名词复数 ) | |
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43
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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44
wriggling
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的现在分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等）；蠕蠕 | |
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45
casually
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| adv.漠不关心地，无动于衷地，不负责任地 | |
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46
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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47
naturalist
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| n.博物学家(尤指直接观察动植物者) | |
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48
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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49
crumbs
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| int. (表示惊讶)哎呀 n. 碎屑 名词crumb的复数形式 | |
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50
peal
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| n.钟声；v.鸣响 | |
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51
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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52
meekly
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| adv.温顺地，逆来顺受地 | |
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53
irritably
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| ad.易生气地 | |
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54
goaded
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| v.刺激( goad的过去式和过去分词 )；激励；（用尖棒）驱赶；驱使（或怂恿、刺激）某人 | |
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55
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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56
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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rapacious
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| adj.贪婪的，强夺的 | |
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58
refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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59
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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60
speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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61
succinctly
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| adv.简洁地；简洁地，简便地 | |
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62
tadpoles
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| n.蝌蚪( tadpole的名词复数 ) | |
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63
countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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boiler
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| n.锅炉；煮器(壶，锅等) | |
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65
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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66
manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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67
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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tyrant
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| n.暴君，专制的君主，残暴的人 | |
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69
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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70
confidingly
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| adv.信任地 | |
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71
inspection
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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72
desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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73
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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74
bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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75
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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76
contrite
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| adj.悔悟了的，后悔的，痛悔的 | |
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77
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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78
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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