“Oh, that is nice of them!”
“You bet. I told you you’d like ’em. Squarest people on earth. Uh, Carrie —— Would you mind if I sneaked3 down to the office for an hour, just to see how things are?”
“Why, no. Of course not. I know you’re keen to get back to work.”
“Sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a bit. Out of my way. Let me unpack1.”
But the advocate of freedom in marriage was as much disappointed as a drooping4 bride at the alacrity5 with which he took that freedom and escaped to the world of men’s affairs. She gazed about their bedroom, and its full dismalness7 crawled over her: the awkward knuckly8 L-shape of it; the black walnut9 bed with apples and spotty pears carved on the headboard; the imitation maple10 bureau, with pink-daubed scent11-bottles and a petticoated pin-cushion on a marble slab12 uncomfortably like a gravestone; the plain pine washstand and the garlanded water- pitcher13 and bowl. The scent was of horsehair and plush and Florida Water.
“How could people ever live with things like this?” she shuddered14. She saw the furniture as a circle of elderly judges, condemning15 her to death by smothering16. The tottering18 brocade chair squeaked19, “Choke her — choke her — smother17 her.” The old linen20 smelled of the tomb. She was alone in this house, this strange still house, among the shadows of dead thoughts and haunting repressions21. “I hate it! I hate it!” she panted. “Why did I ever ——”
She remembered that Kennicott’s mother had brought these family relics22 from the old home in Lac-qui-Meurt. “Stop it! They’re perfectly23 comfortable things. They’re — comfortable. Besides —— Oh, they’re horrible! We’ll change them, right away.”
Then, “But of course he HAS to see how things are at the office ——”
She made a pretense24 of busying herself with unpacking25. The chintz-lined, silver-fitted bag which had seemed so desirable a luxury in St. Paul was an extravagant26 vanity here. The daring black chemise of frail27 chiffon and lace was a hussy at which the deep-bosomed bed stiffened29 in disgust, and she hurled30 it into a bureau drawer, hid it beneath a sensible linen blouse.
She gave up unpacking. She went to the window, with a purely31 literary thought of village charm — hollyhocks and lanes and apple-cheeked cottagers. What she saw was the side of the Seventh–Day Adventist Church — a plain clapboard wall of a sour liver color; the ash-pile back of the church; an unpainted stable; and an alley32 in which a Ford33 delivery-wagon had been stranded34. This was the terraced garden below her boudoir; this was to be her scenery for ——
“I mustn’t! I mustn’t! I’m nervous this afternoon. Am I sick? . . . Good Lord, I hope it isn’t that! Not now! How people lie! How these stories lie! They say the bride is always so blushing and proud and happy when she finds that out, but — I’d hate it! I’d be scared to death! Some day but —— Please, dear nebulous Lord, not now! Bearded sniffy old men sitting and demanding that we bear children. If THEY had to bear them ——! I wish they did have to! Not now! Not till I’ve got hold of this job of liking35 the ash-pile out there! . . . I must shut up. I’m mildly insane. I’m going out for a walk. I’ll see the town by myself. My first view of the empire I’m going to conquer!”
She fled from the house.
She stared with seriousness at every concrete crossing, every hitching-post, every rake for leaves; and to each house she devoted36 all her speculation37. What would they come to mean? How would they look six months from now? In which of them would she be dining? Which of these people whom she passed, now mere38 arrangements of hair and clothes, would turn into intimates, loved or dreaded39, different from all the other people in the world?
As she came into the small business-section she inspected a broad-beamed grocer in an alpaca coat who was bending over the apples and celery on a slanted40 platform in front of his store. Would she ever talk to him? What would he say if she stopped and stated, “I am Mrs. Dr. Kennicott. Some day I hope to confide41 that a heap of extremely dubious42 pumpkins43 as a window-display doesn’t exhilarate me much.”
(The grocer was Mr. Frederick F. Ludelmeyer, whose market is at the corner of Main Street and Lincoln Avenue. In supposing that only she was observant Carol was ignorant, misled by the indifference44 of cities. She fancied that she was slipping through the streets invisible; but when she had passed, Mr. Ludelmeyer puffed45 into the store and coughed at his clerk, “I seen a young woman, she come along the side street. I bet she iss Doc Kennicott’s new bride, good-looker, nice legs, but she wore a hell of a plain suit, no style, I wonder will she pay cash, I bet she goes to Howland & Gould’s more as she does here, what you done with the poster for Fluffed Oats?”)
II
When Carol had walked for thirty-two minutes she had completely covered the town, east and west, north and south; and she stood at the corner of Main Street and Washington Avenue and despaired.
Main Street with its two-story brick shops, its story-and-a- half wooden residences, its muddy expanse from concrete walk to walk, its huddle46 of Fords and lumber-wagons47, was too small to absorb her. The broad, straight, unenticing gashes48 of the streets let in the grasping prairie on every side. She realized the vastness and the emptiness of the land. The skeleton iron windmill on the farm a few blocks away, at the north end of Main Street, was like the ribs49 of a dead cow. She thought of the coming of the Northern winter, when the unprotected houses would crouch50 together in terror of storms galloping51 out of that wild waste. They were so small and weak, the little brown houses. They were shelters for sparrows, not homes for warm laughing people.
She told herself that down the street the leaves were a splendor52. The maples53 were orange; the oaks a solid tint54 of raspberry. And the lawns had been nursed with love. But the thought would not hold. At best the trees resembled a thinned woodlot. There was no park to rest the eyes. And since not Gopher Prairie but Wakamin was the county-seat, there was no court-house with its grounds.
She glanced through the fly-specked windows of the most pretentious55 building in sight, the one place which welcomed strangers and determined56 their opinion of the charm and luxury of Gopher Prairie — the Minniemashie House. It was a tall lean shabby structure, three stories of yellow-streaked wood, the corners covered with sanded pine slabs57 purporting58 to symbolize59 stone. In the hotel office she could see a stretch of bare unclean floor, a line of rickety chairs with brass60 cuspidors between, a writing-desk with advertisements in mother-of-pearl letters upon the glass-covered back. The dining-room beyond was a jungle of stained table-cloths and catsup bottles.
She looked no more at the Minniemashie House.
A man in cuffless shirt-sleeves with pink arm-garters, wearing a linen collar but no tie, yawned his way from Dyer’s Drug Store across to the hotel. He leaned against the wall, scratched a while, sighed, and in a bored way gossiped with a man tilted61 back in a chair. A lumber-wagon, its long green box filled with large spools62 of barbed-wire fencing, creaked down the block. A Ford, in reverse, sounded as though it were shaking to pieces, then recovered and rattled63 away. In the Greek candy-store was the whine66 of a peanut-roaster, and the oily smell of nuts.
There was no other sound nor sign of life.
She wanted to run, fleeing from the encroaching prairie, demanding the security of a great city. Her dreams of creating a beautiful town were ludicrous. Oozing67 out from every drab wall, she felt a forbidding spirit which she could never conquer.
She trailed down the street on one side, back on the other, glancing into the cross streets. It was a private Seeing Main Street tour. She was within ten minutes beholding68 not only the heart of a place called Gopher Prairie, but ten thousand towns from Albany to San Diego:
Dyer’s Drug Store, a corner building of regular and unreal blocks of artificial stone. Inside the store, a greasy69 marble soda70-fountain with an electric lamp of red and green and curdled-yellow mosaic71 shade. Pawed-over heaps of tooth- brushes and combs and packages of shaving-soap. Shelves of soap-cartons teething-rings, garden-seeds, and patent medicines in yellow packages-nostrums for consumption, for “women’s diseases”— notorious mixtures of opium72 and alco- hol, in the very shop to which her husband sent patients for the filling of prescriptions73.
From a second-story window the sign “W. P. Kennicott, Phys. & Surgeon,” gilt74 on black sand.
A small wooden motion-picture theater called “The Rosebud75 Movie Palace.” Lithographs76 announcing a film called “Fatty in Love.”
Howland & Gould’s Grocery. In the display window, black, overripe bananas and lettuce77 on which a cat was sleeping. Shelves lined with red crepe paper which was now faded and torn and concentrically spotted78. Flat against the wall of the second story the signs of lodges79 — the Knights80 of Pythias, the Maccabees, the Woodmen, the Masons.
Dahl & Oleson’s Meat Market — a reek65 of blood.
A jewelry81 shop with tinny-looking wrist-watches for women. In front of it, at the curb82, a huge wooden clock which did not go.
A fly-buzzing saloon with a brilliant gold and enamel83 whisky sign across the front. Other saloons down the block. From them a stink84 of stale beer, and thick voices bellowing85 pidgin German or trolling out dirty songs — vice86 gone feeble and unenterprising and dull — the delicacy87 of a mining-camp minus its vigor88. In front of the saloons, farmwives sitting on the seats of wagons, waiting for their husbands to become drunk and ready to start home.
A tobacco shop called “The Smoke House,” filled with young men shaking dice89 for cigarettes. Racks of magazines, and pictures of coy fat prostitutes in striped bathing-suits.
A clothing store with a display of “ox-blood-shade Oxfords with bull-dog toes.” Suits which looked worn and glossless while they were still new, flabbily draped on dummies90 like corpses91 with painted cheeks.
The Bon Ton Store — Haydock & Simons’— the largest shop in town. The first-story front of clear glass, the plates cleverly bound at the edges with brass. The second story of pleasant tapestry93 brick. One window of excellent clothes for men, interspersed94 with collars of floral pique95 which showed mauve daisies on a saffron ground. Newness and an obvious notion of neatness and service. Haydock & Simons. Haydock. She had met a Haydock at the station; Harry96 Haydock; an active person of thirty-five. He seemed great to her, now, and very like a saint. His shop was clean!
Axel Egge’s General Store, frequented by Scandinavian farmers. In the shallow dark window-space heaps of sleazy sateens, badly woven galateas, canvas shoes designed for women with bulging97 ankles, steel and red glass buttons upon cards with broken edges, a cottony blanket, a granite-ware frying-pan reposing98 on a sun-faded crepe blouse.
Sam Clark’s Hardware Store. An air of frankly99 metallic100 enterprise. Guns and churns and barrels of nails and beautiful shiny butcher knives.
Chester Dashaway’s House Furnishing Emporium. A vista101 of heavy oak rockers with leather seats, asleep in a dismal6 row.
Billy’s Lunch. Thick handleless cups on the wet oilcloth- covered counter. An odor of onions and the smoke of hot lard. In the doorway102 a young man audibly sucking a toothpick.
The warehouse103 of the buyer of cream and potatoes. The sour smell of a dairy.
The Ford Garage and the Buick Garage, competent one- story brick and cement buildings opposite each other. Old and new cars on grease-blackened concrete floors. Tire advertisements. The roaring of a tested motor; a racket which beat at the nerves. Surly young men in khaki union-overalls. The most energetic and vital places in town.
A large warehouse for agricultural implements104. An impressive barricade105 of green and gold wheels, of shafts106 and sulky seats, belonging to machinery107 of which Carol knew nothing — potato-planters, manure-spreaders, silage-cutters, disk-harrows, breaking-plows.
A feed store, its windows opaque108 with the dust of bran, a patent medicine advertisement painted on its roof.
Ye Art Shoppe, Prop109. Mrs. Mary Ellen Wilks, Christian110 Science Library open daily free. A touching111 fumble112 at beauty. A one-room shanty113 of boards recently covered with rough stucco. A show-window delicately rich in error: vases starting out to imitate tree-trunks but running off into blobs of gilt — an aluminum114 ash-tray labeled “Greetings from Gopher Prairie” — a Christian Science magazine — a stamped sofa-cushion portraying115 a large ribbon tied to a small poppy, the correct skeins of embroidery-silk lying on the pillow. Inside the shop, a glimpse of bad carbon prints of bad and famous pictures, shelves of phonograph records and camera films, wooden toys, and in the midst an anxious small woman sitting in a padded rocking chair.
A barber shop and pool room. A man in shirt sleeves, presumably Del Snafflin the proprietor116, shaving a man who had a large Adam’s apple.
Nat Hicks’s Tailor Shop, on a side street off Main. A one- story building. A fashion-plate showing human pitchforks in garments which looked as hard as steel plate.
On another side street a raw red-brick Catholic Church with a varnished117 yellow door.
The post-office — merely a partition of glass and brass shutting off the rear of a mildewed118 room which must once have been a shop. A tilted writing-shelf against a wall rubbed black and scattered119 with official notices and army recruiting-posters.
The damp, yellow-brick schoolbuilding in its cindery120 grounds.
The State Bank, stucco masking wood.
The Farmers’ National Bank. An Ionic temple of marble. Pure, exquisite121, solitary122. A brass plate with “Ezra Stowbody, Pres’t.”
A score of similar shops and establishments.
Behind them and mixed with them, the houses, meek123 cottages or large, comfortable, soundly uninteresting symbols of prosperity.
In all the town not one building save the Ionic bank which gave pleasure to Carol’s eyes; not a dozen buildings which suggested that, in the fifty years of Gopher Prairie’s existence, the citizens had realized that it was either desirable or possible to make this, their common home, amusing or attractive.
It was not only the unsparing unapologetic ugliness and the rigid124 straightness which overwhelmed her. It was the planlessness, the flimsy temporariness of the buildings, their faded unpleasant colors. The street was cluttered125 with electric- light poles, telephone poles, gasoline pumps for motor cars, boxes of goods. Each man had built with the most valiant126 disregard of all the others. Between a large new “block” of two-story brick shops on one side, and the fire-brick Overland garage on the other side, was a one-story cottage turned into a millinery shop. The white temple of the Farmers’ Bank was elbowed back by a grocery of glaring yellow brick. One store-building had a patchy galvanized iron cornice; the building beside it was crowned with battlements and pyramids of brick capped with blocks of red sandstone.
She escaped from Main Street, fled home.
She wouldn’t have cared, she insisted, if the people had been comely127. She had noted128 a young man loafing before a shop, one unwashed hand holding the cord of an awning129; a middle-aged130 man who had a way of staring at women as though he had been married too long and too prosaically131; an old farmer, solid, wholesome132, but not clean — his face like a potato fresh from the earth. None of them had shaved for three days.
“If they can’t build shrines133, out here on the prairie, surely there’s nothing to prevent their buying safety-razors!” she raged.
She fought herself: “I must be wrong. People do live here. It CAN’T be as ugly as — as I know it is! I must be wrong. But I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it.”
She came home too seriously worried for hysteria; and when she found Kennicott waiting for her, and exulting134, “Have a walk? Well, like the town? Great lawns and trees, eh?” she was able to say, with a self-protective maturity135 new to her, “It’s very interesting.”
III
The train which brought Carol to Gopher Prairie also brought Miss Bea Sorenson.
Miss Bea was a stalwart, corn-colored, laughing young woman, and she was bored by farm-work. She desired the excitements of city-life, and the way to enjoy city-life was, she had decided136, to “go get a yob as hired girl in Gopher Prairie.” She contentedly137 lugged138 her pasteboard telescope from the station to her cousin, Tina Malmquist, maid of all work in the residence of Mrs. Luke Dawson.
“Vell, so you come to town,” said Tina.
“Ya. Ay get a yob,” said Bea.
“Vell. . . . You got a fella now?”
“Ya. Yim Yacobson.”
“Vell. I’m glat to see you. How much you vant a veek?”
“Sex dollar.”
“There ain’t nobody pay dat. Vait! Dr. Kennicott, I t’ink he marry a girl from de Cities. Maybe she pay dat. Vell. You go take a valk.”
“Ya,” said Bea.
So it chanced that Carol Kennicott and Bea Sorenson were viewing Main Street at the same time.
Bea had never before been in a town larger than Scandia Crossing, which has sixty-seven inhabitants.
As she marched up the street she was meditating139 that it didn’t hardly seem like it was possible there could be so many folks all in one place at the same time. My! It would take years to get acquainted with them all. And swell140 people, too! A fine big gentleman in a new pink shirt with a diamond, and not no washed-out blue denim141 working-shirt. A lovely lady in a longery dress (but it must be an awful hard dress to wash). And the stores!
Not just three of them, like there were at Scandia Crossing, but more than four whole blocks!
The Bon Ton Store — big as four barns — my! it would simply scare a person to go in there, with seven or eight clerks all looking at you. And the men’s suits, on figures just like human. And Axel Egge’s, like home, lots of Swedes and Norskes in there, and a card of dandy buttons, like rubies142.
A drug store with a soda fountain that was just huge, awful long, and all lovely marble; and on it there was a great big lamp with the biggest shade you ever saw — all different kinds colored glass stuck together; and the soda spouts143, they were silver, and they came right out of the bottom of the lamp- stand! Behind the fountain there were glass shelves, and bottles of new kinds of soft drinks, that nobody ever heard of. Suppose a fella took you THERE!
A hotel, awful high, higher than Oscar Tollefson’s new red barn; three stories, one right on top of another; you had to stick your head back to look clear up to the top. There was a swell traveling man in there — probably been to Chicago, lots of times.
Oh, the dandiest people to know here! There was a lady going by, you wouldn’t hardly say she was any older than Bea herself; she wore a dandy new gray suit and black pumps. She almost looked like she was looking over the town, too. But you couldn’t tell what she thought. Bea would like to be that way — kind of quiet, so nobody would get fresh. Kind of — oh, elegant.
A Lutheran Church. Here in the city there’d be lovely sermons, and church twice on Sunday, EVERY Sunday!
And a movie show!
A regular theater, just for movies. With the sign “Change of bill every evening.” Pictures every evening!
There were movies in Scandia Crossing, but only once every two weeks, and it took the Sorensons an hour to drive in — papa was such a tightwad he wouldn’t get a Ford. But here she could put on her hat any evening, and in three minutes’ walk be to the movies, and see lovely fellows in dress-suits and Bill Hart and everything!
How could they have so many stores? Why! There was one just for tobacco alone, and one (a lovely one — the Art Shoppy it was) for pictures and vases and stuff, with oh, the dandiest vase made so it looked just like a tree trunk!
Bea stood on the corner of Main Street and Washington Avenue. The roar of the city began to frighten her. There were five automobuls on the street all at the same time — and one of ’em was a great big car that must of cost two thousand dollars — and the ‘bus was starting for a train with five elegant- dressed fellows, and a man was pasting up red bills with lovely pictures of washing-machines on them. and the jeweler was laying out bracelets144 and wrist-watches and EVERYTHING on real velvet145.
What did she care if she got six dollars a week? Or two! It was worth while working for nothing, to be allowed to stay here. And think how it would be in the evening, all lighted up — and not with no lamps, but with electrics! And maybe a gentleman friend taking you to the movies and buying you a strawberry ice cream soda!
Bea trudged146 back.
“Vell? You lak it?” said Tina.
“Ya. Ay lak it. Ay t’ink maybe Ay stay here,” said Bea.
IV
The recently built house of Sam Clark, in which was given the party to welcome Carol, was one of the largest in Gopher Prairie. It had a clean sweep of clapboards, a solid squareness, a small tower, and a large screened porch. Inside, it was as shiny, as hard, and as cheerful as a new oak upright piano.
Carol looked imploringly147 at Sam Clark as he rolled to the door and shouted, “Welcome, little lady! The keys of the city are yourn!”
Beyond him, in the hallway and the living-room, sitting in a vast prim148 circle as though they were attending a funeral, she saw the guests. They were WAITING so! They were waiting for her! The determination to be all one pretty flowerlet of appreciation149 leaked away. She begged of Sam, “I don’t dare face them! They expect so much. They’ll swallow me in one mouthful — glump! — like that!”
“Why, sister, they’re going to love you — same as I would if I didn’t think the doc here would beat me up!”
“B-but —— I don’t dare! Faces to the right of me, faces in front of me, volley and wonder!”
She sounded hysterical150 to herself; she fancied that to Sam Clark she sounded insane. But he chuckled151, “Now you just cuddle under Sam’s wing, and if anybody rubbers at you too long, I’ll shoo ’em off. Here we go! Watch my smoke — Sam’l, the ladies’ delight and the bridegrooms’ terror!”
His arm about her, he led her in and bawled152, “Ladies and worser halves, the bride! We won’t introduce her round yet, because she’ll never get your bum153 names straight anyway. Now bust154 up this star-chamber!”
They tittered politely, but they did not move from the social security of their circle, and they did not cease staring.
Carol had given creative energy to dressing155 for the event. Her hair was demure156, low on her forehead with a parting and a coiled braid. Now she wished that she had piled it high. Her frock was an ingenue slip of lawn, with a wide gold sash and a low square neck, which gave a suggestion of throat and molded shoulders. But as they looked her over she was certain that it was all wrong. She wished alternately that she had worn a spinsterish high-necked dress, and that she had dared to shock them with a violent brick-red scarf which she had bought in Chicago.
She was led about the circle. Her voice mechanically produced safe remarks:
“Oh, I’m sure I’m going to like it here ever so much,” and “Yes, we did have the best time in Colorado — mountains,” and “Yes, I lived in St. Paul several years. Euclid P. Tinker? No, I don’t REMEMBER meeting him, but I’m pretty sure I’ve heard of him.”
Kennicott took her aside and whispered, “Now I’ll introduce you to them, one at a time.”
“Tell me about them first.”
“Well, the nice-looking couple over there are Harry Hay- dock and his wife, Juanita. Harry’s dad owns most of the Bon Ton, but it’s Harry who runs it and gives it the pep. He’s a hustler. Next to him is Dave Dyer the druggist — you met him this afternoon — mighty157 good duck-shot. The tall husk beyond him is Jack158 Elder — Jackson Elder — owns the planing-mill, and the Minniemashie House, and quite a share in the Farmers’ National Bank. Him and his wife are good sports — him and Sam and I go hunting together a lot. The old cheese there is Luke Dawson, the richest man in town. Next to him is Nat Hicks, the tailor.”
“Really? A tailor?”
“Sure. Why not? Maybe we’re slow, but we are democratic. I go hunting with Nat same as I do with Jack Elder.”
“I’m glad. I’ve never met a tailor socially. It must be charming to meet one and not have to think about what you owe him. And do you —— Would you go hunting with your barber, too?”
“No but —— No use running this democracy thing into the ground. Besides, I’ve known Nat for years, and besides, he’s a mighty good shot and —— That’s the way it is, see? Next to Nat is Chet Dashaway. Great fellow for chinning. He’ll talk your arm off, about religion or politics or books or anything.”
Carol gazed with a polite approximation to interest at Mr. Dashaway, a tan person with a wide mouth. “Oh, I know! He’s the furniture-store man!” She was much pleased with herself.
“Yump, and he’s the undertaker. You’ll like him. Come shake hands with him.”
“Oh no, no! He doesn’t — he doesn’t do the embalming159 and all that — himself? I couldn’t shake hands with an undertaker!”
“Why not? You’d be proud to shake hands with a great surgeon, just after he’d been carving160 up people’s bellies161.”
She sought to regain162 her afternoon’s calm of maturity. “Yes. You’re right. I want — oh, my dear, do you know how much I want to like the people you like? I want to see people as they are.”
“Well, don’t forget to see people as other folks see them as they are! They have the stuff. Did you know that Percy Bresnahan came from here? Born and brought up here!”
“Bresnahan?”
“Yes — you know — president of the Velvet Motor Company of Boston, Mass. — make the Velvet Twelve — biggest automobile163 factory in New England.”
“I think I’ve heard of him.”
“Sure you have. Why, he’s a millionaire several times over! Well, Perce comes back here for the black-bass fishing almost every summer, and he says if he could get away from business, he’d rather live here than in Boston or New York or any of those places. HE doesn’t mind Chet’s undertaking164.”
“Please! I’ll — I’ll like everybody! I’ll be the community sunbeam!”
He led her to the Dawsons.
Luke Dawson, lender of money on mortgages, owner of Northern cut-over land, was a hesitant man in unpressed soft gray clothes, with bulging eyes in a milky165 face. His wife had bleached166 cheeks, bleached hair, bleached voice, and a bleached manner. She wore her expensive green frock, with its passementeried bosom28, bead167 tassels168, and gaps between the buttons down the back, as though she had bought it second- hand and was afraid of meeting the former owner. They were shy. It was “Professor” George Edwin Mott, superintendent169 of schools, a Chinese mandarin170 turned brown, who held Carol’s hand and made her welcome.
When the Dawsons and Mr. Mott had stated that they were “pleased to meet her,” there seemed to be nothing else to say, but the conversation went on automatically.
“Do you like Gopher Prairie?” whimpered Mrs. Dawson.
“Oh, I’m sure I’m going to be ever so happy.”
“There’s so many nice people.” Mrs. Dawson looked to Mr. Mott for social and intellectual aid. He lectured:
“There’s a fine class of people. I don’t like some of these retired171 farmers who come here to spend their last days — especially the Germans. They hate to pay school-taxes. They hate to spend a cent. But the rest are a fine class of people. Did you know that Percy Bresnahan came from here? Used to go to school right at the old building!”
“I heard he did.”
“Yes. He’s a prince. He and I went fishing together, last time he was here.
The Dawsons and Mr. Mott teetered upon weary feet, and smiled at Carol with crystallized expressions. She went on:
“Tell me, Mr. Mott: Have you ever tried any experiments with any of the new educational systems? The modern kindergarten methods or the Gary system?”
“Oh. Those. Most of these would-be reformers are simply notoriety-seekers. I believe in manual training, but Latin and mathematics always will be the backbone172 of sound Americanism, no matter what these faddists advocate — heaven knows what they do want — knitting, I suppose, and classes in wiggling the ears!”
The Dawsons smiled their appreciation of listening to a savant. Carol waited till Kennicott should rescue her. The rest of the party waited for the miracle of being amused.
Harry and Juanita Haydock, Rita Simons and Dr. Terry Gould — the young smart set of Gopher Prairie. She was led to them. Juanita Haydock flung at her in a high, cackling, friendly voice:
“Well, this is SO nice to have you here. We’ll have some good parties — dances and everything. You’ll have to join the Jolly Seventeen. We play bridge and we have a supper once a month. You play, of course?”
“N-no, I don’t.”
“Really? In St. Paul?”
“I’ve always been such a book-worm.”
“We’ll have to teach you. Bridge is half the fun of life.” Juanita had become patronizing, and she glanced disrespectfully at Carol’s golden sash, which she had previously173 admired.
Harry Haydock said politely, “How do you think you’re going to like the old burg?”
“I’m sure I shall like it tremendously.”
“Best people on earth here. Great hustlers, too. Course I’ve had lots of chances to go live in Minneapolis, but we like it here. Real he-town. Did you know that Percy Bresnahan came from here?”
Carol perceived that she had been weakened in the biological struggle by disclosing her lack of bridge. Roused to nervous desire to regain her position she turned on Dr. Terry Gould, the young and pool-playing competitor of her husband. Her eyes coquetted with him while she gushed174:
“I’ll learn bridge. But what I really love most is the outdoors. Can’t we all get up a boating party, and fish, or whatever you do, and have a picnic supper afterwards?”
“Now you’re talking!” Dr. Gould affirmed. He looked rather too obviously at the cream-smooth slope of her shoulder.
“Like fishing?. Fishing is my middle name. I’ll teach you bridge. Like cards at all?”
“I used to be rather good at bezique.”
She knew that bezique was a game of cards — or a game of something else. Roulette, possibly. But her lie was a triumph. Juanita’s handsome, high-colored, horsey face showed doubt. Harry stroked his nose and said humbly175, “Bezique? Used to be great gambling176 game, wasn’t it?”
While others drifted to her group, Carol snatched up the conversation. She laughed and was frivolous177 and rather brittle178. She could not distinguish their eyes. They were a blurry179 theater-audience before which she self-consciously enacted180 the comedy of being the Clever Little Bride of Doc Kennicott:
“These-here celebrated181 Open Spaces, that’s what I’m going out for. I’ll never read anything but the sporting-page again. Will converted me on our Colorado trip. There were so many mousey tourists who were afraid to get out of the motor ‘bus that I decided to be Annie Oakley, the Wild Western Wampire, and I bought oh! a vociferous182 skirt which revealed my perfectly nice ankles to the Presbyterian glare of all the Ioway schoolma’ams, and I leaped from peak to peak like the nimble chamoys, and —— You may think that Herr Doctor Kennicott is a Nimrod, but you ought to have seen me daring him to strip to his B. V. D.‘s and go swimming in an icy mountain brook183.”
She knew that they were thinking of becoming shocked, but Juanita Haydock was admiring, at least. She swaggered on:
“I’m sure I’m going to ruin Will as a respectable practitioner184 —— Is he a good doctor, Dr. Gould?”
Kennicott’s rival gasped185 at this insult to professional ethics186, and he took an appreciable187 second before he recovered his social manner. “I’ll tell you, Mrs. Kennicott.” He smiled at Kennicott, to imply that whatever he might say in the stress of being witty188 was not to count against him in the commercio-medical warfare189. “There’s some people in town that say the doc is a fair to middlin’ diagnostician and prescription-writer, but let me whisper this to you — but for heaven’s sake don’t tell him I said so — don’t you ever go to him for anything more serious than a pendectomy of the left ear or a strabismus of the cardiograph.”
No one save Kennicott knew exactly what this meant, but they laughed, and Sam Clark’s party assumed a glittering lemon-yellow color of brocade panels and champagne190 and tulle and crystal chandeliers and sporting duchesses. Carol saw that George Edwin Mott and the blanched191 Mr. and Mrs. Dawson were not yet hypnotized. They looked as though they wondered whether they ought to look as though they disapproved192. She concentrated on them:
“But I know whom I wouldn’t have dared to go to Colorado with! Mr. Dawson there! I’m sure he’s a regular heart- breaker. When we were introduced he held my hand and squeezed it frightfully.”
“Haw! Haw! Haw!” The entire company applauded. Mr. Dawson was beatified. He had been called many things — loan-shark, skinflint, tightwad, pussyfoot — but he had never before been called a flirt193.
“He is wicked, isn’t he, Mrs. Dawson? Don’t you have to lock him up?”
“Oh no, but maybe I better,” attempted Mrs. Dawson, a tint on her pallid194 face.
For fifteen minutes Carol kept it up. She asserted that she was going to stage a musical comedy, that she preferred cafe parfait to beefsteak, that she hoped Dr. Kennicott would never lose his ability to make love to charming women, and that she had a pair of gold stockings. They gaped195 for more. But she could not keep it up. She retired to a chair behind Sam Clark’s bulk. The smile-wrinkles solemnly flattened196 out in the faces of all the other collaborators in having a party, and again they stood about hoping but not expecting to be amused.
Carol listened. She discovered that conversation did not exist in Gopher Prairie. Even at this affair, which brought out the young smart set, the hunting squire198 set, the respectable intellectual set, and the solid financial set, they sat up with gaiety as with a corpse92.
Juanita Haydock talked a good deal in her rattling199 voice but it was invariably of personalities200: the rumor201 that Raymie Wutherspoon was going to send for a pair of patent leather shoes with gray buttoned tops; the rheumatism202 of Champ Perry; the state of Guy Pollock’s grippe; and the dementia of Jim Howland in painting his fence salmon-pink.
Sam Clark had been talking to Carol about motor cars, but he felt his duties as host. While he droned, his brows popped up and down. He interrupted himself, “Must stir ’em up.” He worried at his wife, “Don’t you think I better stir ’em up?” He shouldered into the center of the room, and cried:
“Let’s have some stunts204, folks.”
“Yes, let’s!” shrieked205 Juanita Haydock.
“Say, Dave, give us that stunt203 about the Norwegian catching206 a hen.”
“You bet; that’s a slick stunt; do that, Dave!” cheered Chet Dashaway.
Mr. Dave Dyer obliged.
All the guests moved their lips in anticipation207 of being called on for their own stunts.
“Ella, come on and recite ‘Old Sweetheart of Mine,’ for us,” demanded Sam.
Miss Ella Stowbody, the spinster daughter of the Ionic bank, scratched her dry palms and blushed. “Oh, you don’t want to hear that old thing again.”
“Sure we do! You bet!” asserted Sam.
“My voice is in terrible shape tonight.”
“Tut! Come on!”
Sam loudly explained to Carol, “Ella is our shark at elocuting. She’s had professional training. She studied singing and oratory208 and dramatic art and shorthand for a year, in Milwaukee.”
Miss Stowbody was reciting. As encore to “An Old Sweetheart of Mine,” she gave a peculiarly optimistic poem regarding the value of smiles.
There were four other stunts: one Jewish, one Irish, one juvenile209, and Nat Hicks’s parody210 of Mark Antony’s funeral oration211.
During the winter Carol was to hear Dave Dyer’s hen- catching impersonation seven times, “An Old Sweetheart of Mine” nine times, the Jewish story and the funeral oration twice; but now she was ardent212 and, because she did so want to be happy and simple-hearted, she was as disappointed as the others when the stunts were finished, and the party instantly sank back into coma213.
They gave up trying to be festive214; they began to talk naturally, as they did at their shops and homes.
The men and women divided, as they had been tending to do all evening. Carol was deserted215 by the men, left to a group of matrons who steadily216 pattered of children, sickness, and cooks — their own shop-talk. She was piqued217. She re- membered visions of herself as a smart married woman in a drawing-room, fencing with clever men. Her dejection was relieved by speculation as to what the men were discussing, in the corner between the piano and the phonograph. Did they rise from these housewifely personalities to a larger world of abstractions and affairs?
She made her best curtsy to Mrs. Dawson; she twittered, “I won’t have my husband leaving me so soon! I’m going over and pull the wretch’s ears.” She rose with a jeune fille bow. She was self-absorbed and self-approving because she had attained219 that quality of sentimentality. She proudly dipped across the room and, to the interest and commendation of all beholders, sat on the arm of Kennicott’s chair.
He was gossiping with Sam Clark, Luke Dawson, Jackson Elder of the planing-mill, Chet Dashaway, Dave Dyer, Harry Haydock, and Ezra Stowbody, president of the Ionic bank.
Ezra Stowbody was a troglodyte220. He had come to Gopher Prairie in 1865. He was a distinguished221 bird of prey222 — swooping223 thin nose, turtle mouth, thick brows, port-wine cheeks, floss of white hair, contemptuous eyes. He was not happy in the social changes of thirty years. Three decades ago, Dr. Westlake, Julius Flickerbaugh the lawyer, Merriman Peedy the Congregational pastor224 and himself had been the arbiters225. That was as it should be; the fine arts — medicine, law, religion, and finance — recognized as aristocratic; four Yankees democratically chatting with but ruling the Ohioans and Illini and Swedes and Germans who had ventured to follow them. But Westlake was old, almost retired; Julius Flickerbaugh had lost much of his practice to livelier attorneys; Reverend (not The Reverend) Peedy was dead; and nobody was impressed in this rotten age of automobiles226 by the “spanking grays” which Ezra still drove. The town was as heterogeneous227 as Chicago. Norwegians and Germans owned stores. The social leaders were common merchants. Selling nails was considered as sacred as banking228. These upstarts — the Clarks, the Haydocks — had no dignity. They were sound and conservative in politics, but they talked about motor cars and pump-guns and heaven only knew what new-fangled fads229. Mr. Stowbody felt out of place with them. But his brick house with the mansard roof was still the largest residence in town, and he held his position as squire by occasionally appearing among the younger men and reminding them by a wintry eye that without the banker none of them could carry on their vulgar businesses.
As Carol defied decency230 by sitting down with the men, Mr. Stowbody was piping to Mr. Dawson, “Say, Luke, when was’t Biggins first settled in Winnebago Township? Wa’n’t it in 1879?”
“Why no ‘twa’n’t!” Mr. Dawson was indignant. “He come out from Vermont in 1867 — no, wait, in 1868, it must have been — and took a claim on the Rum River, quite a ways above Anoka.”
“He did not!” roared Mr. Stowbody. “He settled first in Blue Earth County, him and his father!”
(“What’s the point at issue?” Carol whispered to Kennicott.
(“Whether this old duck Biggins had an English setter or a Llewellyn. They’ve been arguing it all evening!”)
Dave Dyer interrupted to give tidings, “D’ tell you that Clara Biggins was in town couple days ago? She bought a hot-water bottle — expensive one, too — two dollars and thirty cents!”
“Yaaaaaah!” snarled231 Mr. Stowbody. “Course. She’s just like her grandad was. Never save a cent. Two dollars and twenty — thirty, was it? — two dollars and thirty cents for a hot-water bottle! Brick wrapped up in a flannel232 petticoat just as good, anyway!”
“How’s Ella’s tonsils, Mr. Stowbody?” yawned Chet Dashaway.
While Mr. Stowbody gave a somatic and psychic233 study of them, Carol reflected, “Are they really so terribly interested in Ella’s tonsils, or even in Ella’s esophagus? I wonder if I could get them away from personalities? Let’s risk damnation and try.”
“There hasn’t been much labor197 trouble around here, has there, Mr. Stowbody?” she asked innocently.
“No, ma’am, thank God, we’ve been free from that, except maybe with hired girls and farm-hands. Trouble enough with these foreign farmers; if you don’t watch these Swedes they turn socialist234 or populist or some fool thing on you in a minute. Of course, if they have loans you can make ’em listen to reason. I just have ’em come into the bank for a talk, and tell ’em a few things. I don’t mind their being democrats235, so much, but I won’t stand having socialists236 around. But thank God, we ain’t got the labor trouble they have in these cities. Even Jack Elder here gets along pretty well, in the planing-mill, don’t you, Jack?”
“Yep. Sure. Don’t need so many skilled workmen in my place, and it’s a lot of these cranky, wage-hogging, half- baked skilled mechanics that start trouble — reading a lot of this anarchist237 literature and union papers and all.”
“Do you approve of union labor?” Carol inquired of Mr. Elder.
“Me? I should say not! It’s like this: I don’t mind dealing238 with my men if they think they’ve got any grievances239 — though Lord knows what’s come over workmen, nowadays — don’t appreciate a good job. But still, if they come to me honestly, as man to man, I’ll talk things over with them. But I’m not going to have any outsider, any of these walking delegates, or whatever fancy names they call themselves now — bunch of rich grafters, living on the ignorant workmen! Not going to have any of those fellows butting240 in and telling ME how to run MY business!”
Mr. Elder was growing more excited, more belligerent241 and patriotic242. “I stand for freedom and constitutional rights. If any man don’t like my shop, he can get up and git. Same way, if I don’t like him, he gits. And that’s all there is to it. I simply can’t understand all these complications and hoop-te- doodles and government reports and wage-scales and God knows what all that these fellows are balling up the labor situation with, when it’s all perfectly simple. They like what I pay ’em, or they get out. That’s all there is to it!”
“What do you think of profit-sharing?” Carol ventured.
Mr. Elder thundered his answer, while the others nodded, solemnly and in tune243, like a shop-window of flexible toys, comic mandarins and judges and ducks and clowns, set quivering by a breeze from the open door:
“All this profit-sharing and welfare work and insurance and old-age pension is simply poppycock. Enfeebles a workman’s independence — and wastes a lot of honest profit. The half- baked thinker that isn’t dry behind the ears yet, and these suffragettes and God knows what all buttinskis there are that are trying to tell a business man how to run his business, and some of these college professors are just about as bad, the whole kit244 and bilin’ of ’em are nothing in God’s world but socialism in disguise! And it’s my bounden duty as a pro- ducer to resist every attack on the integrity of American industry to the last ditch. Yes — SIR!”
Mr. Elder wiped his brow.
Dave Dyer added, “Sure! You bet! What they ought to do is simply to hang every one of these agitators245, and that would settle the whole thing right off. Don’t you think so, doc?”
“You bet,” agreed Kennicott.
The conversation was at last relieved of the plague of Carol’s intrusions and they settled down to the question of whether the justice of the peace had sent that hobo drunk to jail for ten days or twelve. It was a matter not readily determined. Then Dave Dyer communicated his carefree adventures on the gipsy trail:
“Yep. I get good time out of the flivver. ‘Bout a week ago I motored down to New Wurttemberg. That’s forty- three —— No, let’s see: It’s seventeen miles to Belldale, and ‘bout six and three-quarters, call it seven, to Torgenquist, and it’s a good nineteen miles from there to New Wurttemberg — seventeen and seven and nineteen, that makes, uh, let me see: seventeen and seven ‘s twenty-four, plus nineteen, well say plus twenty, that makes forty-four, well anyway, say about forty-three or — four miles from here to New Wurttemberg. We got started about seven-fifteen, prob’ly seven-twenty, because I had to stop and fill the radiator246, and we ran along, just keeping up a good steady gait ——”
Mr. Dyer did finally, for reasons and purposes admitted and justified247, attain218 to New Wurttemberg.
Once — only once — the presence of the alien Carol was recognized. Chet Dashaway leaned over and said asthmatically, “Say, uh, have you been reading this serial248 ‘Two Out’ in Tingling249 Tales? Corking250 yarn251! Gosh, the fellow that wrote it certainly can sling252 baseball slang!”
The others tried to look literary. Harry Haydock offered, “Juanita is a great hand for reading high-class stuff, like ‘Mid the Magnolias’ by this Sara Hetwiggin Butts253, and ‘Riders of Ranch254 Reckless.’ Books. But me,” he glanced about importantly, as one convinced that no other hero had ever been in so strange a plight255, “I’m so darn busy I don’t have much time to read.”
“I never read anything I can’t check against,” said Sam Clark.
Thus ended the literary portion of the conversation, and for seven minutes Jackson Elder outlined reasons for believing that the pike-fishing was better on the west shore of Lake Minniemashie than on the east — though it was indeed quite true that on the east shore Nat Hicks had caught a pike altogether admirable.
The talk went on. It did go on! Their voices were monotonous256, thick, emphatic257. They were harshly pompous258, like men in the smoking-compartments of Pullman cars. They did not bore Carol. They frightened her. She panted, “They will be cordial to me, because my man belongs to their tribe. God help me if I were an outsider!”
Smiling as changelessly as an ivory figurine she sat quiescent259, avoiding thought, glancing about the living-room and hall, noting their betrayal of unimaginative commercial prosperity. Kennicott said, “Dandy interior, eh? My idea of how a place ought to be furnished. Modern.” She looked polite, and observed the oiled floors, hard-wood staircase, unused fireplace with tiles which resembled brown linoleum260, cut-glass vases standing261 upon doilies, and the barred, shut, forbidding unit bookcases that were half filled with swashbuckler novels and unread-looking sets of Dickens, Kipling, O. Henry, and Elbert Hubbard.
She perceived that even personalities were failing to hold the party. The room filled with hesitancy as with a fog. People cleared their throats, tried to choke down yawns. The men shot their cuffs262 and the women stuck their combs more firmly into their back hair.
Then a rattle64, a daring hope in every eye, the swinging of a door, the smell of strong coffee, Dave Dyer’s mewing voice in a triumphant263, “The eats!” They began to chatter264. They had something to do; They could escape from themselves. They fell upon the food — chicken sandwiches, maple cake, drug-store ice cream. Even when the food was gone they remained cheerful. They could go home, any time now, and go to bed!
They went, with a flutter of coats, chiffon scarfs, and good- bys.
Carol and Kennicott walked home.
“Did you like them?” he asked.
“They were terribly sweet to me.”
“Uh, Carrie —— You ought to be more careful about shocking folks. Talking about gold stockings, and about showing your ankles to schoolteachers and all!” More mildly: “You gave ’em a good time, but I’d watch out for that, ‘f I were you. Juanita Haydock is such a damn cat. I wouldn’t give her a chance to criticize me.”
“My poor effort to lift up the party! Was I wrong to try to amuse them?”
“No! No! Honey, I didn’t mean —— You were the only up-and-coming person in the bunch. I just mean —— Don’t get onto legs and all that immoral265 stuff. Pretty conservative crowd.”
She was silent, raw with the shameful266 thought that the attentive267 circle might have been criticizing her, laughing at her.
“Don’t, please don’t worry!” he pleaded.
Silence
“Gosh; I’m sorry I spoke268 about it. I just meant —— But they were crazy about you. Sam said to me, ‘That little lady of yours is the slickest thing that ever came to this town,’ he said; and Ma Dawson — I didn’t hardly know whether she’d like you or not, she’s such a dried-up old bird, but she said, ‘Your bride is so quick and bright, I declare, she just wakes me up.’ ”
Carol liked praise, the flavor and fatness of it, but she was so energetically being sorry for herself that she could not taste this commendation.
“Please! Come on! Cheer up!” His lips said it, his anxious shoulder said it, his arm about her said it, as they halted on the obscure porch of their house.
“Do you care if they think I’m flighty, Will?”
“Me? Why, I wouldn’t care if the whole world thought you were this or that or anything else. You’re my — well, you’re my soul!”
He was an undefined mass, as solid-seeming as rock. She found his sleeve, pinched it, cried, “I’m glad! It’s sweet to be wanted! You must tolerate my frivolousness269. You’re all I have!”
He lifted her, carried her into the house, and with her arms about his neck she forgot Main Street.
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收听单词发音
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1
unpack
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| vt.打开包裹（或行李），卸货 | |
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unpacked
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| v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的过去式和过去分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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sneaked
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| v.潜行( sneak的过去式和过去分词 )；偷偷溜走；（儿童向成人）打小报告；告状 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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alacrity
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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dismalness
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| 阴沉的 | |
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knuckly
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| n.（指人）指关节；（指动物）膝关节，肘；铰结，肘形接；铜指节套vt.用指关节打、压、碰、擦 | |
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walnut
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| n.胡桃，胡桃木，胡桃色，茶色 | |
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maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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scent
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| n.气味，香味，香水，线索，嗅觉；v.嗅，发觉 | |
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slab
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| n.平板，厚的切片；v.切成厚板，以平板盖上 | |
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pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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smother
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| vt./vi.使窒息；抑制；闷死；n.浓烟；窒息 | |
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tottering
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| adj.蹒跚的，动摇的v.走得或动得不稳( totter的现在分词 )；踉跄；蹒跚；摇摇欲坠 | |
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squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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linen
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| n.亚麻布，亚麻线，亚麻制品；adj.亚麻布制的，亚麻的 | |
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repressions
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| n.压抑( repression的名词复数 )；约束；抑制；镇压 | |
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relics
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| [pl.］n.遗物，遗迹，遗产；遗体，尸骸 | |
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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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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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unpacking
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| n.取出货物，拆包[箱]v.从（包裹等）中取出（所装的东西），打开行李取出( unpack的现在分词 )；拆包；解除…的负担；吐露（心事等） | |
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extravagant
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| adj.奢侈的；过分的；(言行等)放肆的 | |
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frail
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| adj.身体虚弱的；易损坏的 | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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purely
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| adv.纯粹地，完全地 | |
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alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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Ford
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| n.浅滩，水浅可涉处；v.涉水，涉过 | |
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stranded
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| a.搁浅的，进退两难的 | |
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liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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40
slanted
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| 有偏见的； 倾斜的 | |
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41
confide
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| v.向某人吐露秘密 | |
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dubious
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| adj.怀疑的，无把握的；有问题的，靠不住的 | |
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43
pumpkins
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| n.南瓜( pumpkin的名词复数 )；南瓜的果肉，南瓜囊 | |
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44
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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46
huddle
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| vi.挤作一团；蜷缩；vt.聚集；n.挤在一起的人 | |
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47
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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48
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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49
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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50
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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51
galloping
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| adj. 飞驰的, 急性的 动词gallop的现在分词形式 | |
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52
splendor
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| n.光彩；壮丽，华丽；显赫，辉煌 | |
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53
maples
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| 槭树，枫树( maple的名词复数 )； 槭木 | |
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54
tint
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| n.淡色，浅色；染发剂；vt.着以淡淡的颜色 | |
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55
pretentious
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| adj.自命不凡的，自负的，炫耀的 | |
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56
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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57
slabs
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| n.厚板，平板，厚片( slab的名词复数 )；厚胶片 | |
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58
purporting
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| v.声称是…，（装得）像是…的样子( purport的现在分词 ) | |
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59
symbolize
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| vt.作为...的象征，用符号代表 | |
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60
brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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61
tilted
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| v. 倾斜的 | |
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62
spools
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| n.（绕线、铁线、照相软片等的）管( spool的名词复数 )；络纱；纺纱机；绕圈轴工人v.把…绕到线轴上（或从线轴上绕下来）( spool的第三人称单数 )；假脱机（输出或输入） | |
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63
rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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64
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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65
reek
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| v.发出臭气；n.恶臭 | |
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66
whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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67
oozing
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| v.（浓液等）慢慢地冒出，渗出( ooze的现在分词 )；使（液体）缓缓流出；（浓液）渗出，慢慢流出 | |
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68
beholding
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| v.看，注视( behold的现在分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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69
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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70
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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71
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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72
opium
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| n.鸦片；adj.鸦片的 | |
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73
prescriptions
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| 药( prescription的名词复数 )； 处方； 开处方； 计划 | |
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74
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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75
rosebud
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| n.蔷薇花蕾，妙龄少女 | |
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76
lithographs
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| n.平版印刷品( lithograph的名词复数 ) | |
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77
lettuce
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| n.莴苣；生菜 | |
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78
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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79
lodges
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| v.存放( lodge的第三人称单数 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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80
knights
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| 骑士； （中古时代的）武士( knight的名词复数 )； 骑士； 爵士； （国际象棋中）马 | |
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81
jewelry
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| n.（jewllery）（总称）珠宝 | |
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82
curb
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| n.场外证券市场，场外交易；vt.制止，抑制 | |
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83
enamel
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| n.珐琅，搪瓷，瓷釉；(牙齿的)珐琅质 | |
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84
stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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85
bellowing
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的现在分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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86
vice
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| n.坏事；恶习；[pl.]台钳，老虎钳；adj.副的 | |
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87
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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88
vigor
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| n.活力，精力，元气 | |
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89
dice
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| n.骰子；vt.把（食物）切成小方块，冒险 | |
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90
dummies
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| n.仿制品( dummy的名词复数 )；橡皮奶头；笨蛋；假传球 | |
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91
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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92
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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93
tapestry
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| n.挂毯，丰富多采的画面 | |
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94
interspersed
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| adj.[医]散开的；点缀的v.intersperse的过去式和过去分词 | |
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95
pique
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| v.伤害…的自尊心，使生气 n.不满，生气 | |
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96
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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97
bulging
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| 膨胀； 凸出（部）； 打气； 折皱 | |
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98
reposing
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| v.将（手臂等）靠在某人（某物）上( repose的现在分词 ) | |
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99
frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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100
metallic
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| adj.金属的；金属制的；含金属的；产金属的；像金属的 | |
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101
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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102
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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103
warehouse
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| n.仓库；vt.存入仓库 | |
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104
implements
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| n.工具( implement的名词复数 )；家具；手段；[法律]履行（契约等）v.实现( implement的第三人称单数 )；执行；贯彻；使生效 | |
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105
barricade
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| n.路障，栅栏，障碍；vt.设路障挡住 | |
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106
shafts
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| n.轴( shaft的名词复数 )；（箭、高尔夫球棒等的）杆；通风井；一阵（疼痛、害怕等） | |
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107
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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108
opaque
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| adj.不透光的；不反光的，不传导的；晦涩的 | |
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109
prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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110
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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111
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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112
fumble
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| vi.笨拙地用手摸、弄、接等，摸索 | |
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113
shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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114
aluminum
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| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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115
portraying
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| v.画像( portray的现在分词 )；描述；描绘；描画 | |
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116
proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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117
varnished
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| 浸渍过的，涂漆的 | |
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118
mildewed
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| adj.发了霉的，陈腐的，长了霉花的v.（使）发霉，（使）长霉( mildew的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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119
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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120
cindery
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| adj.灰烬的，煤渣的 | |
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121
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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122
solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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123
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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124
rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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125
cluttered
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| v.杂物，零乱的东西零乱vt.( clutter的过去式和过去分词 )；乱糟糟地堆满，把…弄得很乱；（以…） 塞满… | |
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126
valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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127
comely
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| adj.漂亮的，合宜的 | |
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128
noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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129
awning
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| n.遮阳篷；雨篷 | |
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130
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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131
prosaically
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| adv.无聊地；乏味地；散文式地；平凡地 | |
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132
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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133
shrines
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| 圣地，圣坛，神圣场所( shrine的名词复数 ) | |
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134
exulting
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| vi. 欢欣鼓舞，狂喜 | |
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135
maturity
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| n.成熟；完成；(支票、债券等)到期 | |
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136
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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137
contentedly
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| adv.心满意足地 | |
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138
lugged
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| vt.用力拖拉（lug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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139
meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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140
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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141
denim
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| n.斜纹棉布；斜纹棉布裤，牛仔裤 | |
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142
rubies
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| 红宝石( ruby的名词复数 )； 红宝石色，深红色 | |
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143
spouts
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| n.管口( spout的名词复数 )；（喷出的）水柱；（容器的）嘴；在困难中v.（指液体）喷出( spout的第三人称单数 )；滔滔不绝地讲；喋喋不休地说；喷水 | |
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144
bracelets
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| n.手镯，臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
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145
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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146
trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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147
imploringly
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| adv. 恳求地, 哀求地 | |
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148
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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149
appreciation
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| n.评价；欣赏；感谢；领会，理解；价格上涨 | |
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150
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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151
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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152
bawled
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| v.大叫，大喊( bawl的过去式和过去分词 )；放声大哭；大声叫出；叫卖（货物） | |
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153
bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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154
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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155
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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156
demure
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| adj.严肃的；端庄的 | |
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157
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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158
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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159
embalming
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| v.保存（尸体）不腐( embalm的现在分词 )；使不被遗忘；使充满香气 | |
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160
carving
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| n.雕刻品，雕花 | |
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161
bellies
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| n.肚子( belly的名词复数 )；腹部；（物体的）圆形或凸起部份；腹部…形的 | |
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162
regain
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| vt.重新获得，收复，恢复 | |
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163
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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164
undertaking
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| n.保证，许诺，事业 | |
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165
milky
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| adj.牛奶的，多奶的；乳白色的 | |
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166
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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167
bead
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| n.念珠；(pl.)珠子项链；水珠 | |
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168
tassels
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| n.穗( tassel的名词复数 )；流苏状物；（植物的）穗；玉蜀黍的穗状雄花v.抽穗， （玉米）长穗须( tassel的第三人称单数 )；使抽穗， （为了使作物茁壮生长）摘去穗状雄花；用流苏装饰 | |
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169
superintendent
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| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
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170
Mandarin
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| n.中国官话，国语，满清官吏；adj.华丽辞藻的 | |
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171
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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172
backbone
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| n.脊骨，脊柱，骨干；刚毅，骨气 | |
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173
previously
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| adv.以前，先前（地） | |
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174
gushed
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| v.喷，涌( gush的过去式和过去分词 )；滔滔不绝地说话 | |
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175
humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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176
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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177
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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178
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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179
blurry
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| adj.模糊的；污脏的，污斑的 | |
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180
enacted
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| 制定（法律），通过（法案）( enact的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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181
celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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182
vociferous
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| adj.喧哗的，大叫大嚷的 | |
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183
brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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184
practitioner
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| n.实践者，从事者；(医生或律师等)开业者 | |
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185
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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186
ethics
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| n.伦理学；伦理观，道德标准 | |
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187
appreciable
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| adj.明显的，可见的，可估量的，可觉察的 | |
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188
witty
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| adj.机智的，风趣的 | |
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189
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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190
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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191
blanched
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| v.使变白( blanch的过去式 )；使（植物）不见阳光而变白；酸洗（金属）使有光泽；用沸水烫（杏仁等）以便去皮 | |
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192
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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193
flirt
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| v.调情，挑逗，调戏；n.调情者，卖俏者 | |
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194
pallid
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| adj.苍白的，呆板的 | |
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195
gaped
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| v.目瞪口呆地凝视( gape的过去式和过去分词 )；张开，张大 | |
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196
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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197
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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198
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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199
rattling
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| adj. 格格作响的, 活泼的, 很好的 adv. 极其, 很, 非常 动词rattle的现在分词 | |
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200
personalities
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| n. 诽谤，（对某人容貌、性格等所进行的）人身攻击； 人身攻击；人格, 个性, 名人( personality的名词复数 ) | |
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201
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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202
rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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203
stunt
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| n.惊人表演，绝技，特技；vt.阻碍...发育，妨碍...生长 | |
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204
stunts
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| n.惊人的表演( stunt的名词复数 )；（广告中）引人注目的花招；愚蠢行为；危险举动v.阻碍…发育[生长]，抑制，妨碍( stunt的第三人称单数 ) | |
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205
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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206
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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207
anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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208
oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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209
juvenile
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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210
parody
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| n.打油诗文，诙谐的改编诗文，拙劣的模仿；v.拙劣模仿，作模仿诗文 | |
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211
oration
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| n.演说，致辞，叙述法 | |
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212
ardent
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，强烈的，烈性的 | |
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213
coma
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| n.昏迷，昏迷状态 | |
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214
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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215
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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216
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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217
piqued
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| v.伤害…的自尊心( pique的过去式和过去分词 )；激起（好奇心） | |
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218
attain
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| vt.达到，获得，完成 | |
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219
attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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220
troglodyte
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| n.古代穴居者；井底之蛙 | |
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221
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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222
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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223
swooping
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| 俯冲，猛冲( swoop的现在分词 ) | |
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224
pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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225
arbiters
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| 仲裁人，裁决者( arbiter的名词复数 ) | |
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226
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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227
heterogeneous
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| adj.庞杂的；异类的 | |
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228
banking
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| n.银行业，银行学，金融业 | |
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229
fads
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| n.一时的流行，一时的风尚( fad的名词复数 ) | |
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230
decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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231
snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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232
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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233
psychic
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| n.对超自然力敏感的人；adj.有超自然力的 | |
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234
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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235
democrats
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| n.民主主义者，民主人士( democrat的名词复数 ) | |
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236
socialists
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| 社会主义者( socialist的名词复数 ) | |
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237
anarchist
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| n.无政府主义者 | |
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238
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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239
grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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240
butting
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| 用头撞人（犯规动作） | |
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241
belligerent
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| adj.好战的，挑起战争的；n.交战国，交战者 | |
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242
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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243
tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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244
kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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245
agitators
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| n.（尤指政治变革的）鼓动者( agitator的名词复数 )；煽动者；搅拌器；搅拌机 | |
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246
radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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247
justified
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| a.正当的，有理的 | |
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248
serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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249
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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250
corking
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| adj.很好的adv.非常地v.用瓶塞塞住( cork的现在分词 ) | |
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251
yarn
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| n.纱，纱线，纺线；奇闻漫谈，旅行轶事 | |
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252
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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253
butts
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| 笑柄( butt的名词复数 )； （武器或工具的）粗大的一端； 屁股； 烟蒂 | |
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254
ranch
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| n.大牧场，大农场 | |
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255
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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256
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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257
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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258
pompous
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的；夸大的；豪华的 | |
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259
quiescent
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| adj.静止的，不活动的，寂静的 | |
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260
linoleum
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| n.油布，油毯 | |
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261
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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262
cuffs
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| n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打，拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
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263
triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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264
chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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265
immoral
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| adj.不道德的，淫荡的，荒淫的，有伤风化的 | |
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266
shameful
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| adj.可耻的，不道德的 | |
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267
attentive
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| adj.注意的，专心的；关心(别人)的，殷勤的 | |
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268
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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269
frivolousness
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| n.不重要，不必要 | |
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