“DON’T cry,” Phronsie was saying; “because if you do, I cannot help you.”
“She has told everything—just every single thing, Charley,” announced Bella, tragically1 turning
around to him.
Charley Swan stood like a statue, with no eyes for any one but Phronsie. She turned a grave face
on him. “I’m afraid she’s badly hurt,” she said. “I think you will have to get Dr. Phillips, Mrs.
Higby.”
“It’s only my foot,” said Grace with a little moan.
“Let me go for him,” begged Charley, coming out of his frozen state.
“One of the men’ll go,” said Mrs. Higby. “La! don’t you stir a mite2.” She went to the door, gave
the message, and came back with a sigh of relief. “You poor child, you,” bending over Grace’s
foot. “You must have turned it clean over itself. There, there, the cold water’ll be the best we can
do for it till the doctor gets here. My!” as her glance fell again on the dark circles under the blue
eyes, and the elaborate frizzes; then she fell to coughing, and speedily betook herself to the farther
end of the room.
“I’ll hold her,” she said presently, coming back. “Miss Phronsie, you’re wanted every single
minute in the best room. Let me sit there where you be.”
Bella sprang to her feet, and blushed rose red. “I forgot you’d left the reception. Oh, do excuse
me! And please, Miss Phronsie Pepper, don’t stay here any longer.”
“I shall stay,” said Phronsie, “till I see that she is better.”
“Where’s Phronsie? Mrs. Higby, do you know where Miss Phronsie is?” cried old Mr. King,
putting his head in the doorway3. “Oh, my good gracious!” as his eye caught the group.
Grace hopped4 off the lounge, and hobbled along on one foot. “Oh, sir! it’s my fault,” she panted;
then she fell flat on the floor.
When she came to herself, she was lying on a bed whose white hangings she could dimly see as
she opened her eyes. Her foot felt heavy and queer.
“I’m sure I cannot apologize enough to you, Mrs. King,” said a voice that she was quite familiar
with. “This school-girl prank5 is quite unforgivable, I know, but I hope you won’t lay it up against
me.”
“We ought not to talk here, Mrs. Atherton,” said Polly gently; then they went out into the other
room.
“I don’t think Bella Drysdale is just the right companion for her,” said Mrs. Atherton. “I have
thought so for some time. Now I shall do my best to break up the intimacy6.”
“Ugh—O Aunt Fay!” shrieked7 Grace, trying to raise herself in bed. But she only succeeded in
falling back heavily with a groan8.
“Dear me, that girl has quite upset me,” cried Mrs. Atherton, trembling nervously9.
“Do you stay out here, Mrs. Atherton,” said Polly brightly, with a gentle hand putting her on the
sofa; then she went into the room where Grace lay, closed the door, and stepped softly up to the
bed.
“Now, little girl,” she said, just as if Grace were six years old instead of sixteen, “you must stop
crying, and do not move. If you do, your foot may be injured for life.”
“I can’t help crying,” said poor Grace, covering her face with both hands.
“You can help doing anything that is wrong,” said Polly gently. Then she brought a brush and
comb, unpinned the frizzes, and laid them on the white toilet-table, and began to brush the soft,
straight, shining hair.
“It wasn’t Bella at all,” sobbed10 Grace. “She didn’t want to do it, but I made her. Oh! I can’t give
Bella up, Mrs. King.”
“You shall tell your Aunt all about it when you are better,” said Polly. “Now we must not talk
about it. You are going to stay with me until your foot is well enough for you to be moved.”
“What, here in this house with you?” cried Grace, almost speechless with astonishment11.
“Yes,” said Polly; “you see, you’ve given your poor foot a terrible wrench12, and Dr. Phillips isn’t
willing that you should be moved just yet. And he can come and see you so much easier here,
Grace.”
“I shall get my Mamsie,” cried a small, determined13 voice.“O Mrs. King!” Grace rolled her head on the pillow to look at her, “you don’t know how wicked
I’ve been. You can’t know, or you never’d keep me here in all this world. Why, I disobeyed my
aunt to come here.”
“Yes, I do know,” said Polly gravely. “I know it all. But I said we wouldn’t talk about it now.”
Then Polly sat down on the edge of the bed in her beautiful reception-gown, and Grace felt too
wicked to touch it with one finger, although she longed to; and Mrs. King held her hand, and told
her stories about her own girlhood,—how the Peppers lived in the little brown house just around
the lane, “where you will go when you are able to walk, dear;” and how Joel was the pastor14 of a
big church in New York, and where Ben and Davie were; and how the dear mother had gone
abroad with Father Fisher because he was tired and needed rest, and wanted to visit the hospitals
again, and some foreign doctors; and then she told about Johnny, and the railroad accident that
took his mother away to heaven, and how good Mrs. Fargo had adopted him for her very own boy,
and they were there at Badgertown for the whole summer. And how Mr. Higby, in whose
farmhouse15 the people were all carried who were hurt, had sold his farm, and was now their head
gardener, and good Mrs. Higby was the housekeeper16.
“Yes, I think she is quite good,” said Grace, snuggling up to the kind hand; “she didn’t scold me a
bit, but she looked so sorry for me, Mrs. King.”
“And Johnny’s just the dearest dear,” said Polly, who always believed him but little short of a
cherub17; and then she told how he was thrown from the donkey just the week before, but “it didn’t
hurt him a bit, and”—
“If you please, Mrs. King, the children are ready to go to bed,” said Katrina, putting her white cap
in the door.
“And now I must go to my chicks,” said Polly, getting off the bed. Then she bent18 over, and set a
kiss on the pale cheek. “Don’t you worry about anything,” she said. “I shall ask my sister Phronsie
to stay with you.”
“Mrs. King,” cried Grace, nervously clutching the brocade dress, “there is one thing,—if you
could keep Aunt Fay from writing this to my mother. Oh, please do, dear Mrs. King!”
“She won’t do it,” said Mrs. King quietly; “don’t be afraid, Grace.”
Grace gave her one look, and relaxed her hold.
“I shall get my Mamsie,” cried a small, determined voice; and Elyot rushed in in his nightgown,
followed by Barby in hers, hugging a dilapidated black doll. “Mamsie,” cried Barby, stumbling
over to her arms.
“Don’t you go in there,” commanded King, coming last, in his nightgown. “Sister Polly, I couldn’t
help it, I came to keep them out.”
“Oh, dear me,” cried Katrina, who had gone back after delivering her message, now hurrying in.
“Children, how can you!”
“Bad, naughty Katty,” said Barby, shaking her curls at her, “to keep me away from my mummy.
Go ’way, Katty.”
“O Barby!” said Polly gently, and nestling her little girl up to her.
“Oh, what a cunning little thing!” cried Grace in a rapture19. “Oh, do let her stay, Mrs. King!” as
Polly made signs for Katrina to take her.
“What you in my bed for?” cried King sturdily; “say, and who are you?”
“O King!” said Polly; “why, that isn’t like my boy.”
“Oh, have I taken his bed?” asked Grace in dismay, and making another effort to rise.
Elyot perched at the foot, where he surveyed Grace at his leisure.“He calls it his because once when he was sick he left the nursery and came in here to sleep,” said
Polly. “Now come, children, say good-night to Miss Grace, and then we must fly to bed.” Elyot
had one of her hands now; and he clambered up on the bed, where he perched on the foot, and
surveyed Grace at his leisure.
“Is that her name because she says grace at the table?” he asked after a pause.
“No, dear, that was her baby name; isn’t it a pretty one?”
“Was she ever a baby?” asked Barby, looking with intense interest at Grace’s long figure under the
bedclothes.
“Yes, indeed; she was once a little baby just like all you children.”
“O mamma! not a little one,” said Elyot incredulously.
“Not a wee, wee, teenty one,” said Barby, shaking her head.
“I guess she was as long as that,” said King, measuring off a piece on Grace’s frame, that he
supposed a suitable length, “just about as long as that.”
“Take care, dear. You may touch her lame20 foot,” said Polly.
And then the children, who had been in the little brown house when the accident occurred,
clamored to know all about it. But Polly was firm; and telling them they should hear how it
happened on the morrow, she held Barby down for a good-night kiss, a proceeding21 all the others
imitated, till the three swarmed22 around Grace’s pillow.
“Good-night,” said Barby, with a sleepy little hum; “do you say ‘Now-I-lay-me-down-to-seep’”?
“No,” said Grace. How long ago it seemed since she had felt too old to repeat that prayer!
“Mamsie, she doesn’t say ‘Now-I-lay-me-down-to-seep,’” said Barby, trying to open wide her
eyes.
“Come, dears.”
“What do you say?” cried Elyot, pulling the bedspread, “say?”
“Elyot!” said his mother. He took one look at her face, and then scuttled23 off, picking up the
nightgown to facilitate progress.
So Polly went off, her baby on her arm. Barby, whose eyes drooped24 at every step, dropped the
black doll out of her sleepy hand; Katrina picked it up, and helped the boys along.
Just then Phronsie came in with a pleased expression on her face to see how cheery everything
was.
“Your aunt has gone,” she said; “but she is coming out to-morrow to see how you are.”
So Polly went off, her baby on her arm.Grace achieved a sitting posture25, impossible as it had seemed before. “Oh, dear Mrs. King!” she
screamed, “now I know she will write to mamma this evening.”
Polly set Barby in her little crib, then sped back. “No, Grace,” she said, “she won’t write; you can
trust me, dear.”
“She always writes evenings when she’s anything on her mind,” said Grace; “and she’d hurry
about this.” But upon Mrs. King’s assuring her that she would take the care of this upon herself,
Grace cuddled down again, and let Phronsie comfort her.
And by and by, while Polly’s messenger was speeding to the city with just such a letter as she
knew how to write, addressed to Mrs. Carroll Atherton, Mrs. Higby herself came up with Grace’s
supper; and when she saw how cheery things were, and how everything was beginning to mend,
she put her arms akimbo, and said, “My land! but you’ll be as spry as a cricket in a week.”
“I brought you some flowers,” said Phronsie, laying down a little bunch where Grace’s fingers
could reach them.
Grace looked at them, but did not offer to touch them.
“What is it?” asked Phronsie.
“Might I just have one little sprig of those you held in your hand when you came after I was hurt,
Miss Phronsie?”
“Why, yes, you may. Mrs. Higby, will you get them? You may have the whole bunch,” she said to
Grace.
“Oh, only just one sprig, please,” said Grace eagerly.
But the whole bunch of lilies-of-the-valley was brought; and Grace held them in her hands, and
buried her face in them, and then she opened her mouth obediently, while Mrs. Higby, after
tucking a napkin under her chin, fed her from a generous plate of milk-toast, and everything was
getting quite jolly.
“She looks better already, don’t she, Miss Phronsie!” exclaimed Mrs. Higby in admiration26 of the
effect of the treatment. “My! but ain’t this nice milk-toast, though! I guess I know, for I made it
myself. There, take this, poor dear.”
“I’m sorry to make you all so much trouble,” said Grace penitently27, with her mouth half full.
“Don’t feed her too fast, please, Mrs. Higby,” said Phronsie, looking on with the deepest interest.
“My land! she ought to eat to keep her strength up,” said Mrs. Higby, plying28 the spoon
industriously29. “Just so much milk-toast such as this is, and every hour you’ll see that leg of hers
getting well like lightning.”
And then old Mr. King had to come and stand in the doorway, and say how glad he was that the
foot was hurt no worse, for it had given him a dreadful fright to see her fear of his displeasure.
And when Grace saw his handsome face light up with a smile for her, her last fear left her; and she
gave a sigh of relief as he went off, obediently finished the toast, and settled back on her pillow.
“Land, how weak she must be to eat like that! she feels the need of victuals,” said Mrs. Higby.
“Now I’ll run down and make you another slice,” nodding to Grace, “you poor dear, you.”
“Oh, don’t let her!” begged Grace in alarm. “O Miss Phronsie! I couldn’t eat another morsel30.”
“She doesn’t want any more, Mrs. Higby,” said Phronsie; “truly she doesn’t.”
“But just s’posin’ she should be weak and faint in the night,” said Mrs. Higby. “I’d better make
just one little thin slice, hadn’t I, Miss Phronsie,” standing31 irresolute32 in the doorway.
“No,” said Phronsie firmly. “I don’t think you had, Mrs. Higby. There, I’m going to tuck her up
now, and then I shall stay with her.”
“Will you, Miss Phronsie?” cried Grace in delight.
“Yes,” said Phronsie, “I shall stay just as long as you want me to.”
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
tragically
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| adv. 悲剧地，悲惨地 | |
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2
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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3
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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4
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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5
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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6
intimacy
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| n.熟悉，亲密，密切关系，亲昵的言行 | |
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7
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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8
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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9
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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10
sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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11
astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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12
wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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13
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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14
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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15
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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16
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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17
cherub
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| n.小天使，胖娃娃 | |
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18
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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19
rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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20
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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21
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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22
swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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23
scuttled
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| v.使船沉没( scuttle的过去式和过去分词 )；快跑，急走 | |
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24
drooped
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| 弯曲或下垂，发蔫( droop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
posture
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| n.姿势，姿态，心态，态度；v.作出某种姿势 | |
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26
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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27
penitently
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28
plying
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的现在分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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29
industriously
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30
morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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31
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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32
irresolute
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| adj.无决断的，优柔寡断的，踌躇不定的 | |
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