Even the Clark twins in rubber boots, long rain-capes and a baby umbrella came in to spend their daily pennies.
“I guess it’ll be one session, Maida,” Dorothy whispered.
“Oh goody, Dorothy!” Mabel lisped. “Don’t you love one session, Maida?”
Maida was ashamed to confess to two such tiny girls that she did not know what “one session” meant. But she puzzled over it the whole morning. If Rosie and Arthur had come in she would have asked them. But neither of them appeared. Indeed, they were not anywhere in the lines—Maida looked very carefully.
At twelve o’clock the school bell did not ring. In surprise, Maida craned out of the window to consult the big church clock. It agreed exactly with the tall grandfather’s clock in the living-room. Both pointed4 to twelve, then to five minutes after and ten and fifteen—still no bell.
A little later Dicky came swinging along, the sides of his old rusty5 raincoat flapping like the wings of some great bird.
“It’s one-session, Maida,” he said jubilantly, “did you hear the bell?”
“What’s one session, Dicky?” Maida asked.
“Why, when it’s too stormy for the children to go to school in the afternoon the fire-bells ring twenty-two at quarter to twelve. They keep all the classes in until one o’clock though.”
“Oh, that’s why they don’t come out,” Maida said.
At one o’clock the umbrellas began to file out of the school door. The street looked as if it had grown a monster crop of shiny black toad-stools. But it was the only sign of life that the neighborhood showed for the rest of the day. The storm was too violent for even the big boys and girls to brave. A very long afternoon went by. Not a customer came into the shop. Maida felt very lonely. She wandered from shop to living-room and from living-room to chamber6. She tried to read. She sewed a little. She even popped corn for a lonesome fifteen minutes. But it seemed as if the long dark day would never go.
As they were sitting down to dinner that night, Billy bounced in—his face pink and wet, his eyes sparkling like diamonds from his conflict with the winds.
“Oh, Billy, how glad I am to see you,” Maida said. “It’s been the lonesomest day.”
“Sure, the sight av ye’s grand for sore eyes,” said Granny.
Maida had noticed that Billy’s appearance always made the greatest difference in everything. Before he came, the noise of the wind howling about the store made Maida sad. Now it seemed the jolliest of sounds. And when at seven, Rosie appeared, Maida’s cup of happiness brimmed over.
While Billy talked with Granny, the two little girls rearranged the stock.
“My mother was awful mad with me just before supper,” Rosie began at once. “It seems as if she was so cross lately that there’s no living with her. She picks on me all the time. That’s why I’m here. She sent me to bed. But I made up my mind I wouldn’t go to bed. I climbed out my bedroom window and came over here.”
“Oh, Rosie, I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Maida said. “Oh, do run right home! Think how worried your mother would be if she went up into your room and found you gone. She wouldn’t know what had become of you.”
“Well, then, what makes her so strict with me?” Rosie cried. Her eyes had grown as black as thunder clouds. The scowl7 that made her face so sullen8 had come deep between her eyebrows9.
“Oh, how I wish I had a mother,” Maida said longingly11. “I guess I wouldn’t say a word to her, no matter how strict she was.”
“I guess you don’t know what you’d do until you tried it,” Rosie said.
Granny and Billy had been curiously12 quiet in the other room. Suddenly Billy Potter stepped to the door.
“I’ve just thought of a great game, children,” he said. “But we’ve got to play it in the kitchen. Bring some crayons, Maida.”
The children raced after him. “What is it?” they asked in chorus.
Billy did not answer. He lifted Granny’s easy-chair with Granny, knitting and all, and placed it in front of the kitchen stove. Then he began to draw a huge rectangle on the clean, stone floor.
“Guess,” he said.
“Sure and Oi know what ut’s going to be,” smiled Granny.
Maida and Rosie watched him closely. Suddenly they both shouted together:
“Right you are!” Billy approved. He searched among the coals in the hod until he found a hard piece of slate14.
“All ready now!” he said briskly. “Your turn, first, Rosie, because you’re company.”
Rosie failed on “fivesy.” Maida’s turn came next and she failed on “threesy.” Billy followed Maida but he hopped15 on the line on “twosy.”
“Oi belave Oi cud play that game, ould as Oi am,” Granny said suddenly.
“I bet you could,” Billy said.
“Sure, ’twas a foine player Oi was when Oi was a little colleen.”
“Come on, Granny,” Billy said.
The two little girls jumped up and down, clapping their hands and shrieking16, “Granny’s going to play!” “Granny’s going to play!” They made so much noise finally, that Billy had to threaten to stand them on their heads in a corner.
Granny took her turn after Billy. She hopped about like a very active and a very benevolent17 old fairy.
They played for a half an hour. And who do you suppose won? Not Maida with all her new-found strength, not Rosie with all her nervous energy, not Billy with all his athletic19 training.
“Mrs. Delia Flynn, champion of America and Ireland,” Billy greeted the victor. “Granny, we’ll have to enter you in the next Olympic games.”
They returned after this breathless work to the living-room.
“Now I’m going to tell you a story,” Billy announced.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” Maida squealed20. “Do! Billy tells the most wonderful stories, Rosie—stories he’s heard and stories he’s read. But the most wonderful ones are those that he makes up as he goes along.”
The two little girls settled themselves on the hearth-rug at Billy’s feet. Granny sat, not far off, working with double speed at her neglected knitting.
“Once upon a time,” Billy said, “there lived a little girl named Klara. And Klara was the naughtiest little girl in the world. She was a pretty child and a clever child and everybody would have loved her if she had only given them a chance. But how can you love a child who is doing naughty things all the time? Particularly was she a great trial to her mother. That poor lady was not well and needed care and attention, herself. But instead of giving her these, Klara gave her only hard words and disobedient acts. The mother used sometimes to punish her little daughter but it seemed as if this only made her worse. Both father and mother were in despair about her. Klara seemed to be growing steadily21 worse and worse. And, indeed, lately, she had added to her naughtiness by threatening to run away.
“One night, it happened, Klara had been so bad that her mother had put her to bed early. The moment her mother left the room, Klara whipped over to the window. ‘I’m going to dress myself and climb out the window and run away and never come back,’ she said to herself.’
“The house in which Klara lived was built on the side of a cliff, overlooking the sea. As Klara stood there in her nightgown the moon began to rise and come up out of the water. Now the moonrise is always a beautiful sight and Klara stopped for a moment to watch it, fascinated.
“It seemed to her that she had never seen the moon look so big before. And certainly she had never seen it such a color—a soft deep orange. In fact, it might have been an immense orange—or better, a monster pumpkin22 stuck on the horizon-line.
“The strange thing about the moon, though, was that it grew larger instead of smaller. It rose higher and higher, growing bigger and bigger, until it was half-way up the curve of the sky. Then it stopped short. Klara watched it, her eyes bulging23 out of her head. In all her experience she had never seen such a surprising thing. And while she watched, another remarkable24 thing happened. A great door in the moon opened suddenly and there on the threshold stood a little old lady. A strange little old lady she was—a little old lady with short red skirts and high, gayly-flowered draperies at her waist, a little old lady with a tall black, sugar-loaf hat, a great white ruff around her neck and little red shoes with bright silver buckles25 on them—a little old lady who carried a black cat perched on one shoulder and a broomstick in one hand.
“The little old lady stooped down and lifted something over the threshold. Klara strained her eyes to see what it was. It looked like a great roll of golden carpeting. With a sudden deft26 movement the little old lady threw it out of the door. It flew straight across the ocean, unrolling as swiftly as a ball of twine27 that you’ve flung across the room. It came nearer and nearer. The farther it got from the moon, the faster it unrolled. After a while it struck against the shore right under Klara’s window and Klara saw that it was the wake of the moon. She watched.
“The little old lady had disappeared from the doorway3 in the moon but the door did not close. And, suddenly, still another wonderful thing happened. The golden wake lifted itself gradually from the water until it was on a level with Klara’s window. Bending down she touched it with both her soft little hands. It was as firm and hard as if it had been woven from strands28 of gold.
“‘Now’s my time to run away from my cross mother,’ Klara said to herself. ‘I guess that nice old lady in the moon wants me to come and be her little girl. Well, I’ll go. I guess they’ll be sorry in this house to-morrow when they wake up and find they’re never going to see me again.’
“Opening the window gently that nobody might hear her, she stepped on to the Wake of Gold. It felt cool and hard to her little bare feet. It inclined gently from her window. She ran down the slope until she reached the edge of the sea. There she hesitated. For a moment it seemed a daring thing to walk straight out to the moon with nothing between her and the water but a path of gold. Then she recalled how her mother had sent her to bed and her heart hardened. She started briskly out.
“From Klara’s window it had looked as though it would take her only a few moments to get to the moon. But the farther she went, the farther from her the doorway seemed to go. But she did not mind that the walk was so long because it was so pretty. Looking over the edge of the Wake of Gold, deep down in the water, she could see all kinds of strange sights.
“At one place a school of little fish swam up to the surface of the water. Klara knelt down and watched their pretty, graceful29 motions. The longer she gazed the more fish she saw and the more beautiful they seemed. Pale-blue fishes with silver spots. Pale-pink ones with golden stripes. Gorgeous red ones with jewelled black horns. Brilliant yellow and green ones that shone like phosphorus. And here and there, gliding30 among them, were what seemed little angel-fish like living rainbows, whose filmy wing-like fins31 changed color when they swam.
“Klara reached into the water and tried to catch some of these marvelous beings.
“But at her first motion—bing! The water looked as if it were streaked32 with rainbow lightning. Swish! It was dull and clear again, with nothing between her and the quiet, seaweed-covered bottom.
“A little farther along Klara came across a wonderful sea-grotto33. Again she knelt down on the Wake of Gold and watched. At the bottom the sand was so white and shiny that it might have been made of star-dust. Growing up from it were beds of marvelous seaflowers, opening and shutting delicate petals34, beautiful seafans that waved with every ripple35, high, thick shrubs36 and towering trees in which the fishes had built their nests. In and out among all this undergrowth, frisked tiny sea-horses, ridden by mischievous37 sea-urchins38. They leaped and trotted39 and galloped40 as if they were so happy that they did not know what to do. Klara felt that she must play with them. She put one little foot into the water to attract their attention. Bing! The water seemed alive with scuttling41 things. Swish! The grotto was so quiet that she could not believe that there was anything living in it.
“A little farther on, Klara came upon a sight even more wonderful than this—a village of mer-people. It was set so far down in the water that it seemed a million miles away. And yet the water was so clear that she felt she could touch the housetops.
“The mer-houses seemed to be made of a beautiful, sparkling white coral with big, wide-open windows through which the tide drifted. The mer-streets seemed to be cobbled in pearl, the sidewalks to be paved in gold. At their sides grew mer-trees, the highest she had ever seen, with all kinds of beautiful singing fish roosting in their branches. Little mer-boats of carved pink coral with purple seaweed sails or of mother-of-pearl with rosy42, mer-flower-petal sails, were floating through the streets. In some, sat little mer-maidens, the sunlight flashing on their pretty green scales, on their long, golden tresses, on the bright mirrors they held in their hands. Other boats held little mer-boys who made beautiful music on the harps43 they carried.
“At one end of the mer-village Klara could see one palace, bigger and more beautiful than all the others. Through an open window she caught a glimpse of the mer-king—a jolly old fellow with a fat red face and a long white beard sitting on a throne of gold. At his side reclined the mer-queen—a very beautiful lady with a skin as white as milk and eyes as green as emeralds. Little mer-princes and little mer-princesses were playing on the floor with tiny mer-kittens and tinier mer-puppies. One sweet little mer-baby was tiptailing towards the window with a pearl that she had stolen from her sister’s coronet.
“It seemed to Klara that this mer-village was the most enchanting44 place that she had ever seen in her life. Oh, how she wanted to live there!
“‘Oh, good mer-king,’ she called entreatingly45, ‘and good mer-queen, please let me come to live in your palace.’
“Bing! The water rustled46 and roiled47 as if all the birds of paradise that the world contained had taken flight. Swish! It was perfectly48 quiet again. The mer-village was as deserted49 as a graveyard50.
“‘Well, if they don’t want me, they shan’t get me,” Klara said. And she walked on twice as proud.’
“By this time she was getting closer and closer to the moon. The nearer she came the bigger it grew. Now it filled the entire sky. The door had remained open all this time. Through it she could see a garden—a garden more beautiful than any fairy-tale garden that she had ever read about. From the doorway silvery paths stretched between hedges as high as a giant’s head. Sometimes these paths ended in fountains whose spray twisted into all kinds of fairy-like shapes. Sometimes these paths seemed to stop flush against the clouds. Nearer stretched flower-beds so brilliant that you would have thought a kaleidoscope had broken on the ground. Birds, like living jewels, flew in and out through the tree-branches. They sang so hard that it seemed to Klara they must burst their little throats. From the branches hung all kinds of precious stones, all kinds of delicious-looking fruits and candies.
“But as she put one foot on the threshold the little old lady appeared. She looked as if she had stepped out of a fairy-tale. And yet Klara had a strange feeling of discomfort52 when she looked at her. It seemed to Klara that the old lady’s mouth was cruel and her eyes hard.
“‘Are you the little girl who’s run away?’ the old lady asked.
“‘And you want to live in the Kingdom of the Moon?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Enter then.’
“The old lady stepped aside and Klara marched across the threshold. She felt the door swinging to behind her. She heard a bang as it closed, shutting her out of the world and into the moon.
“And then—and then—what do you think happened?”
Billy stopped for a moment. Rosie and Maida rose to their knees.
“What happened?” they asked breathlessly.
“The garden vanished as utterly54 as if it were a broken soap-bubble. Gone were the trees and the flowers; gone were the fountains and the birds; gone, too, were the jewels, the candies and the fruits.
“The place had become a huge, dreary55 waste, stretching as far as Klara could see into the distance. It seemed to her as if all the trash that the world had outgrown56 had been dumped here—it was so covered with heaps of old rubbish.
“Klara burst into tears. ‘I want to go home,’ she screamed. ‘Let me go back to my mother.’”
“The old lady only smiled. ‘You open that door and let me go back to my mother,’ Klara cried passionately58.
“‘But I can’t open it,’ the old lady said. ‘It’s locked. I have no keys.’
“‘Where are the keys?’ Klara asked.
“The old lady pointed to the endless heaps of rubbish. ‘There, somewhere,’ she said.
“‘I’ll find them,’ Klara screamed, ‘and open that door and run back to my home. You shan’t keep me from my own dear mother, you wicked woman.’
“‘Nobody wants to keep you,’ the old lady said. ‘You came of your own accord. Find the keys if you want to go back.’
“That was true and Klara wisely did not answer. But you can fancy how she regretted coming. She began to search among the dump-heaps. She could find no keys. But the longer she hunted the more determined59 she grew. It seemed to her that she searched for weeks and weeks.
“It was very discouraging, very dirty and very fatiguing60 work. She moved always in a cloud of dust. At times it seemed as if her back would break from bending so much. Often she had to bite her lips to keep from screaming with rage after she had gone through a rubbish-pile as high as her head and, still, no keys. All kinds of venomous insects stung her. All kinds of vines and brambles scratched her. All kinds of stickers and thistles pricked61 her. Her little feet and hands bled all the time. But still she kept at it. After that first conversation, Klara never spoke62 with the old lady again. After a few days Klara left her in the distance. At the end of a week, the moon-door was no longer in sight when Klara looked back.
“But during all those weeks of weary work Klara had a chance to think. She saw for the first time what a naughty little girl she had been and how she had worried the kindest mother in the world. Her longing10 for her mother grew so great at times that she had to sit down and cry. But after a while she would dry her eyes and go at the hunt with fresh determination.
“One day she caught a glint of something shining from a clump63 of bushes. She had to dig and dig to get at it for about these bushes the ashes were packed down hard. But finally she uncovered a pair of iron keys. On one was printed in letters of gold, ‘I’m SORRY,’ on the other, ‘I’LL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’
“Klara seized the keys joyfully64 and ran all the long way back to the great door. It had two locks. She put one key in the upper lock, turned it—a great bolt jarred. She put the other key into the second lock, turned it—a great bolt jarred. The door swung open.
“‘I’m sorry,’ Klara whispered to herself. ‘I’ll never do so again.’
“She had a feeling that as long as she said those magic words, everything would go well with her.
“Extending out from the door was the Wake of Gold. Klara bounded through the opening and ran. She turned back after a few moments and there was the old lady with her cat and her broomstick standing65 in the doorway. But the old lady’s face had grown very gentle and kind.
“Klara did not look long. She ran as fast as she could pelt66 across the golden path, whispering, ‘I’m sorry. I will never do so again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again. I’m sorry. I will never do so again.’
“And as she ran all the little mer-people came to the surface of the water to encourage her. The little mer-maidens flashed their mirrors at her. The little mer-boys played wonderful music on their harps. The mer-king gave her a jolly smile and the mer-queen blew her a kiss. All the little mer-princesses and all the little mer-princes held up their pets to her. Even the mer-baby clapped her dimpled hands.
“And farther on all the little sea horses with the sea urchins on their backs assembled in bobbing groups. And farther on all the little rainbow fishes gathered in shining files. As she ran all the scratches and gashes67 in her flesh healed up.
“After a while she reached her own window. Opening it, she jumped in. Turning to pull it down she saw the old lady disappear from the doorway of the moon, saw the door close upon her, saw the Wake of Gold melt and fall into the sea where it lay in a million gleaming spangles, saw the moon float up into the sky, growing smaller and smaller and paler and paler until it was no larger than a silver plate. And now it was the moon no longer—it was the sun. Its rays were shining hot on her face. She was back in her little bed. Her mother’s arms were about her and Klara was saying, ‘I’m SORRY. I WILL NEVER DO SO AGAIN.’”
For a long time after Billy finished the room was very quiet. Then suddenly Rosie jumped to her feet. “That was a lovely story, Billy,” she said. “But I guess I don’t want to hear any more now. I think I’ll go home.”
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1
dismally
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| adv.阴暗地，沉闷地 | |
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doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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rusty
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| adj.生锈的；锈色的；荒废了的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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9
eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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longingly
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| adv. 渴望地 热望地 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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hopscotch
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| n.小孩独脚跳踢石子的游戏，“跳房子”游戏 | |
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slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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15
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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16
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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17
benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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athletic
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| adj.擅长运动的，强健的；活跃的，体格健壮的 | |
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squealed
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| v.长声尖叫，用长而尖锐的声音说( squeal的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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pumpkin
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| n.南瓜 | |
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bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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deft
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| adj.灵巧的，熟练的（a deft hand 能手） | |
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twine
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| v.搓，织，编饰；（使）缠绕 | |
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strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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gliding
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fins
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| [医]散热片；鱼鳍；飞边；鸭掌 | |
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streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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grotto
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| n.洞穴 | |
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petals
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| n.花瓣( petal的名词复数 ) | |
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ripple
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| n.涟波，涟漪，波纹，粗钢梳；vt.使...起涟漪，使起波纹； vi.呈波浪状，起伏前进 | |
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shrubs
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| 灌木( shrub的名词复数 ) | |
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mischievous
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| adj.调皮的，恶作剧的，有害的，伤人的 | |
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urchins
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| n.顽童( urchin的名词复数 )；淘气鬼；猬；海胆 | |
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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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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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41
scuttling
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| n.船底穿孔，打开通海阀（沉船用）v.使船沉没( scuttle的现在分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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harps
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| abbr.harpsichord 拨弦古钢琴n.竖琴( harp的名词复数 ) | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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entreatingly
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| 哀求地，乞求地 | |
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rustled
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| v.发出沙沙的声音( rustle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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roiled
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| v.搅混（液体）( roil的过去式和过去分词 )；使烦恼；使不安；使生气 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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graveyard
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| n.坟场 | |
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scramble
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| v.爬行，攀爬，杂乱蔓延，碎片，片段，废料 | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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53
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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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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outgrown
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| 长[发展] 得超过（某物）的范围( outgrow的过去分词 )； 长[发展]得不能再要（某物）； 长得比…快； 生长速度超过 | |
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sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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fatiguing
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| a.使人劳累的 | |
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pricked
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| 刺，扎，戳( prick的过去式和过去分词 )； 刺伤； 刺痛； 使剧痛 | |
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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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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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pelt
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| v.投掷，剥皮，抨击，开火 | |
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gashes
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| n.深长的切口（或伤口）( gash的名词复数 )v.划伤，割破( gash的第三人称单数 ) | |
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