She romanticized herself not as a great reformer but as the wife of a country physician. The realities of the doctor’s household were colored by her pride.
Late at night, a step on the wooden porch, heard through her confusion of sleep; the storm-door opened; fumbling1 over the inner door-panels; the buzz of the electric bell. Kennicott muttering “Gol darn it,” but patiently creeping out of bed, remembering to draw the covers up to keep her warm, feeling for slippers2 and bathrobe, clumping4 down-stairs.
From below, half-heard in her drowsiness5, a colloquy6 in the pidgin-German of the farmers who have forgotten the Old Country language without learning the new:
“Hello, Barney, wass willst du?”
“Morgen, doctor. Die Frau ist ja awful sick. All night she been having an awful pain in de belly7.”
“How long she been this way? Wie lang, eh?”
“I dunno, maybe two days.”
“Why didn’t you come for me yesterday, instead of waking me up out of a sound sleep? Here it is two o’clock! So spat- warum, eh?”
“Nun8 aber, I know it, but she got soch a lot vorse last evening. I t’ought maybe all de time it go avay, but it got a lot vorse.”
“Any fever?”
“Vell ja, I t’ink she got fever.”
“Which side is the pain on?”
“Huh?”
“Das Schmertz — die Weh — which side is it on? Here?”
“So. Right here it is.”
“Any rigidity9 there?”
“Huh?”
“Is it rigid10 — stiff — I mean, does the belly feel hard to the fingers?”
“I dunno. She ain’t said yet.”
“What she been eating?”
“Vell, I t’ink about vot ve alwis eat, maybe corn beef and cabbage and sausage, und so weiter. Doc, sie weint immer, all the time she holler like hell. I vish you come.”
“Well, all right, but you call me earlier, next time. Look here, Barney, you better install a ‘phone — telephone haben. Some of you Dutchmen will be dying one of these days before you can fetch the doctor.”
The door closing. Barney’s wagon11 — the wheels silent in the snow, but the wagon-body rattling12. Kennicott clicking the receiver-hook to rouse the night telephone-operator, giving a number, waiting, cursing mildly, waiting again, and at last growling13, “Hello, Gus, this is the doctor. Say, uh, send me up a team. Guess snow’s too thick for a machine. Going eight miles south. All right. Huh? The hell I will! Don’t you go back to sleep. Huh? Well, that’s all right now, you didn’t wait so very darn long. All right, Gus; shoot her along. By!”
His step on the stairs; his quiet moving about the frigid14 room while he dressed; his abstracted and meaningless cough. She was supposed to be asleep; she was too exquisitely15 drowsy16 to break the charm by speaking. On a slip of paper laid on the bureau — she could hear the pencil grinding against the marble slab17 — he wrote his destination. He went out, hungry, chilly18, unprotesting; and she, before she fell asleep again, loved him for his sturdiness, and saw the drama of his riding by night to the frightened household on the distant farm; pictured children standing19 at a window, waiting for him. He suddenly had in her eyes the heroism20 of a wireless21 operator on a ship in a collision; of an explorer, fever-clawed, deserted22 by his bearers, but going on — jungle — going ——
At six, when the light faltered23 in as through ground glass and bleakly24 identified the chairs as gray rectangles, she heard his step on the porch; heard him at the furnace: the rattle25 of shaking the grate, the slow grinding removal of ashes, the shovel26 thrust into the coal-bin27, the abrupt28 clatter29 of the coal as it flew into the fire-box, the fussy30 regulation of drafts-the daily sounds of a Gopher Prairie life, now first appealing to her as something brave and enduring, many-colored and free. She visioned the fire-box: flames turned to lemon and metallic31 gold as the coal-dust sifted32 over them; thin twisty flutters of purple, ghost flames which gave no light, slipping up between the dark banked coals.
It was luxurious33 in bed, and the house would be warm for her when she rose, she reflected. What a worthless cat she was! What were her aspirations34 beside his capability35?
She awoke again as he dropped into bed.
“Seems just a few minutes ago that you started out!”
“I’ve been away four hours. I’ve operated a woman for appendicitis36, in a Dutch kitchen. Came awful close to losing her, too, but I pulled her through all right. Close squeak38. Barney says he shot ten rabbits last Sunday.”
He was instantly asleep — one hour of rest before he had to be up and ready for the farmers who came in early. She marveled that in what was to her but a night-blurred moment, he should have been in a distant place, have taken charge of a strange house, have slashed39 a woman, saved a life.
What wonder he detested41 the lazy Westlake and McGanum! How could the easy Guy Pollock understand this skill and endurance?
Then Kennicott was grumbling42, “Seven-fifteen! Aren’t you ever going to get up for breakfast?” and he was not a hero- scientist but a rather irritable43 and commonplace man who needed a shave. They had coffee, griddle-cakes, and sausages, and talked about Mrs. McGanum’s atrocious alligator-hide belt. Night witchery and morning disillusion44 were alike forgotten in the march of realities and days.
II
Familiar to the doctor’s wife was the man with an injured leg, driven in from the country on a Sunday afternoon and brought to the house. He sat in a rocker in the back of a lumber-wagon, his face pale from the anguish46 of the jolting47. His leg was thrust out before him, resting on a starch-box and covered with a leather-bound horse-blanket. His drab courageous48 wife drove the wagon, and she helped Kennicott support him as he hobbled up the steps, into the house.
“Fellow cut his leg with an ax — pretty bad gash49 — Halvor Nelson, nine miles out,” Kennicott observed.
Carol fluttered at the back of the room, childishly excited when she was sent to fetch towels and a basin of water. Kennicott lifted the farmer into a chair and chuckled51, “There we are, Halvor! We’ll have you out fixing fences and drinking aquavit in a month.” The farmwife sat on the couch, expressionless, bulky in a man’s dogskin coat and unplumbed layers of jackets. The flowery silk handkerchief which she had worn over her head now hung about her seamed neck. Her white wool gloves lay in her lap.
Kennicott drew from the injured leg the thick red “German sock,” the innumerous other socks of gray and white wool, then the spiral bandage. The leg was of an unwholesome dead white, with the black hairs feeble and thin and flattened53, and the scar a puckered54 line of crimson55. Surely, Carol shuddered56, this was not human flesh, the rosy57 shining tissue of the amorous58 poets.
Kennicott examined the scar, smiled at Halvor and his wife, chanted, “Fine, b’ gosh! Couldn’t be better!”
The Nelsons looked deprecating. The farmer nodded a cue to his wife and she mourned:
“Vell, how much ve going to owe you, doctor?”
“I guess it’ll be —— Let’s see: one drive out and two calls. I guess it’ll be about eleven dollars in all, Lena.”
“I dunno ve can pay you yoost a little w’ile, doctor.”
Kennicott lumbered59 over to her, patted her shoulder, roared, “Why, Lord love you, sister, I won’t worry if I never get it! You pay me next fall, when you get your crop. . . . Carrie! Suppose you or Bea could shake up a cup of coffee and some cold lamb for the Nelsons? They got a long cold drive ahead.”
III
He had been gone since morning; her eyes ached with reading; Vida Sherwin could not come to tea. She wandered through the house, empty as the bleary street without. The problem of “Will the doctor be home in time for supper, or shall I sit down without him?” was important in the household. Six was the rigid, the canonical61 supper-hour, but at half-past six he had not come. Much speculation62 with Bea: Had the obstetrical case taken longer than he had expected? Had he been called somewhere else? Was the snow much heavier out in the country, so that he should have taken a buggy, or even a cutter, instead of the car? Here in town it had melted a lot, but still ——
A honking63, a shout, the motor engine raced before it was shut off.
She hurried to the window. The car was a monster at rest after furious adventures. The headlights blazed on the clots64 of ice in the road so that the tiniest lumps gave mountainous shadows, and the taillight cast a circle of ruby65 on the snow behind. Kennicott was opening the door, crying, “Here we are, old girl! Got stuck couple times, but we made it, by golly, we made it, and here we be! Come on! Food! Eatin’s!”
She rushed to him, patted his fur coat, the long hairs smooth but chilly to her fingers. She joyously66 summoned Bea, “All right! He’s here! We’ll sit right down!”
IV
There were, to inform the doctor’s wife of his successes no clapping audiences nor book-reviews nor honorary degrees. But there was a letter written by a German farmer recently moved from Minnesota to Saskatchewan:
Dear sor, as you haf bin treading mee for a fue Weaks dis Somer and seen wat is rong wit mee so in Regarding to dat i wont67 to tank you. the Doctor heir say wat shot bee rong wit mee and day give mee som Madsin but it diten halp mee like wat you dit. Now day glaim dat i Woten Neet aney Madsin ad all wat you tink?
Well i haven68 ben tacking69 aney ting for about one & 1/2 Mont but i dont get better so i like to heir Wat you tink about it i feel like dis Disconfebil feeling around the Stomac after eating and dat Pain around Heard and down the arm and about 3 to 3 1/2 Hour after Eating i feel weeak like and dissy and a dull Hadig. Now you gust70 lett mee know Wat you tink about mee, i do Wat you say.
V
She encountered Guy Pollock at the drug store. He looked at her as though he had a right to; he spoke71 softly. “I haven’t see you, the last few days.”
“No. I’ve been out in the country with Will several times. He’s so —— Do you know that people like you and me can never understand people like him? We’re a pair of hypercritical loafers, you and I, while he quietly goes and does things.”
She nodded and smiled and was very busy about purchasing boric acid. He stared after her, and slipped away.
When she found that he was gone she was slightly disconcerted.
VI
She could — at times — agree with Kennicott that the shaving- and-corsets familiarity of married life was not dreary72 vulgarity but a wholesome52 frankness; that artificial reticences might merely be irritating. She was not much disturbed when for hours he sat about the living-room in his honest socks. But she would not listen to his theory that “all this romance stuff is simply moonshine — elegant when you’re courting, but no use busting73 yourself keeping it up all your life.”
She thought of surprises, games, to vary the days. She knitted an astounding74 purple scarf, which she hid under his supper plate. (When he discovered it he looked embarrassed, and gasped75, “Is today an anniversary or something? Gosh, I’d forgotten it!”)
Once she filled a thermos76 bottle with hot coffee a corn-flakes77 box with cookies just baked by Bea, and bustled78 to his office at three in the afternoon. She hid her bundles in the hall and peeped in.
The office was shabby. Kennicott had inherited it from a medical predecessor79, and changed it only by adding a white enameled80 operating-table, a sterilizer81, a Roentgen-ray apparatus82, and a small portable typewriter. It was a suite83 of two rooms: a waiting-room with straight chairs, shaky pine table, and those coverless and unknown magazines which are found only in the offices of dentists and doctors. The room beyond, looking on Main Street, was business-office, consulting- room, operating-room, and, in an alcove84, bacteriological and chemical laboratory. The wooden floors of both rooms were bare; the furniture was brown and scaly85.
Waiting for the doctor were two women, as still as though they were paralyzed, and a man in a railroad brakeman’s uniform, holding his bandaged right hand with his tanned left. They stared at Carol. She sat modestly in a stiff chair, feeling frivolous86 and out of place.
Kennicott appeared at the inner door, ushering87 out a bleached88 man with a trickle89 of wan60 beard, and consoling him, “All right, Dad. Be careful about the sugar, and mind the diet I gave you. Gut90 the prescription91 filled, and come in and see me next week. Say, uh, better, uh, better not drink too much beer. All right, Dad.”
His voice was artificially hearty92. He looked absently at Carol. He was a medical machine now, not a domestic machine. “What is it, Carrie?” he droned.
“No hurry. Just wanted to say hello.”
“Well ——”
Self-pity because he did not divine that this was a surprise party rendered her sad and interesting to herself, and she had the pleasure of the martyrs94 in saying bravely to him, “It’s nothing special. If you’re busy long I’ll trot95 home.”
While she waited she ceased to pity and began to mock herself. For the first time she observed the waiting-room. Oh yes, the doctor’s family had to have obi panels and a wide couch and an electric percolator, but any hole was good enough for sick tired common people who were nothing but the one means and excuse for the doctor’s existing! No. She couldn’t blame Kennicott. He was satisfied by the shabby chairs. He put up with them as his patients did. It was her neglected province — she who had been going about talking of rebuilding the whole town!
When the patients were gone she brought in her bundles.
“What’s those?” wondered Kennicott.
“Turn your back! Look out of the window!”
He obeyed — not very much bored. When she cried “Now!” a feast of cookies and small hard candies and hot coffee was spread on the roll-top desk in the inner room.
His broad face lightened. “That’s a new one on me! Never was more surprised in my life! And, by golly, I believe I am hungry. Say, this is fine.”
When the first exhilaration of the surprise had declined she demanded, “Will! I’m going to refurnish your waiting-room!”
“What’s the matter with it? It’s all right.”
“It is not! It’s hideous96. We can afford to give your patients a better place. And it would be good business.” She felt tremendously politic97.
“Rats! I don’t worry about the business. You look here now: As I told you —— Just because I like to tuck a few dollars away, I’ll be switched if I’ll stand for your thinking I’m nothing but a dollar-chasing ——”
“Stop it! Quick! I’m not hurting your feelings! I’m not criticizing! I’m the adoring least one of thy harem. I just mean ——”
Two days later, with pictures, wicker chairs, a rug, she had made the waiting-room habitable; and Kennicott admitted, “Does look a lot better. Never thought much about it. Guess I need being bullied98.”
She was convinced that she was gloriously content in her career as doctor’s-wife.
VII
She tried to free herself from the speculation and disillusionment which had been twitching99 at her; sought to dismiss all the opinionation of an insurgent100 era. She wanted to shine upon the veal-faced bristly-bearded Lyman Cass as much as upon Miles Bjornstam or Guy Pollock. She gave a reception for the Thanatopsis Club. But her real acquiring of merit was in calling upon that Mrs. Bogart whose gossipy good opinion was so valuable to a doctor.
Though the Bogart house was next door she had entered it but three times. Now she put on her new moleskin cap, which made her face small and innocent, she rubbed off the traces of a lip-stick — and fled across the alley102 before her admirable resolution should sneak103 away.
The age of houses, like the age of men, has small relation to their years. The dull-green cottage of the good Widow Bogart was twenty years old, but it had the antiquity104 of Cheops, and the smell of mummy-dust. Its neatness rebuked105 the street. The two stones by the path were painted yellow; the outhouse was so overmodestly masked with vines and lattice that it was not concealed106 at all; the last iron dog remaining in Gopher Prairie stood among whitewashed107 conch-shells upon the lawn. The hallway was dismayingly scrubbed; the kitchen was an exercise in mathematics, with problems worked out in equidistant chairs.
The parlor108 was kept for visitors. Carol suggested, “Let’s sit in the kitchen. Please don’t trouble to light the parlor stove.”
“No trouble at all! My gracious, and you coming so seldom and all, and the kitchen is a perfect sight, I try to keep it clean, but Cy will track mud all over it, I’ve spoken to him about it a hundred times if I’ve spoken once, no, you sit right there, dearie, and I’ll make a fire, no trouble at all, practically no trouble at all.”
Mrs. Bogart groaned109, rubbed her joints110, and repeatedly dusted her hands while she made the fire, and when Carol tried to help she lamented111, “Oh, it doesn’t matter; guess I ain’t good for much but toil112 and workin’ anyway; seems as though that’s what a lot of folks think.”
The parlor was distinguished113 by an expanse of rag carpet from which, as they entered, Mrs. Bogart hastily picked one sad dead fly. In the center of the carpet was a rug depicting114 a red Newfoundland dog, reclining in a green and yellow daisy field and labeled “Our Friend.” The parlor organ, tall and thin, was adorned115 with a mirror partly circular, partly square, and partly diamond-shaped, and with brackets holding a pot of geraniums, a mouth-organ, and a copy of “The Oldtime Hymnal.” On the center table was a Sears–Roebuck mail-order catalogue, a silver frame with photographs of the Baptist Church and of an elderly clergyman, and an aluminum116 tray containing a rattlesnake’s rattle and a broken spectacle-lens.
Mrs. Bogart spoke of the eloquence117 of the Reverend Mr. Zitterel, the coldness of cold days, the price of poplar wood, Dave Dyer’s new hair-cut, and Cy Bogart’s essential piety118. “As I said to his Sunday School teacher, Cy may be a little wild, but that’s because he’s got so much better brains than a lot of these boys, and this farmer that claims he caught Cy stealing ‘beggies, is a liar45, and I ought to have the law on him.”
Mrs. Bogart went thoroughly119 into the rumor120 that the girl waiter at Billy’s Lunch was not all she might be — or, rather, was quite all she might be.
“My lands, what can you expect when everybody knows what her mother was? And if these traveling salesmen would let her alone she would be all right, though I certainly don’t believe she ought to be allowed to think she can pull the wool over our eyes. The sooner she’s sent to the school for incorrigible122 girls down at Sauk Centre, the better for all and —— Won’t you just have a cup of coffee, Carol dearie, I’m sure you won’t mind old Aunty Bogart calling you by your first name when you think how long I’ve known Will, and I was such a friend of his dear lovely mother when she lived here and — was that fur cap expensive? But —— Don’t you think it’s awful, the way folks talk in this town?”
Mrs. Bogart hitched123 her chair nearer. Her large face, with its disturbing collection of moles101 and lone121 black hairs, wrinkled cunningly. She showed her decayed teeth in a reproving smile, and in the confidential124 voice of one who scents125 stale bedroom scandal she breathed:
“I just don’t see how folks can talk and act like they do. You don’t know the things that go on under cover. This town — why it’s only the religious training I’ve given Cy that’s kept him so innocent of — things. Just the other day —— I never pay no attention to stories, but I heard it mighty126 good and straight that Harry127 Haydock is carrying on with a girl that clerks in a store down in Minneapolis, and poor Juanita not knowing anything about it — though maybe it’s the judgment128 of God, because before she married Harry she acted up with more than one boy —— Well, I don’t like to say it, and maybe I ain’t up-to-date, like Cy says, but I always believed a lady shouldn’t even give names to all sorts of dreadful things, but just the same I know there was at least one case where Juanita and a boy — well, they were just dreadful. And — and —— Then there’s that Ole Jenson the grocer, that thinks he’s so plaguey smart, and I know he made up to a farmer’s wife and —— And this awful man Bjornstam that does chores, and Nat Hicks and ——”
There was, it seemed, no person in town who was not living a life of shame except Mrs. Bogart, and naturally she resented it.
She knew. She had always happened to be there. Once, she whispered, she was going by when an indiscreet window- shade had been left up a couple of inches. Once she had noticed a man and woman holding hands, and right at a Methodist sociable129!
“Another thing —— Heaven knows I never want to start trouble, but I can’t help what I see from my back steps, and I notice your hired girl Bea carrying on with the grocery boys and all ——”
“Mrs. Bogart! I’d trust Bea as I would myself!”
“Oh, dearie, you don’t understand me! I’m sure she’s a good girl. I mean she’s green, and I hope that none of these horrid130 young men that there are around town will get her into trouble! It’s their parents’ fault, letting them run wild and hear evil things. If I had my way there wouldn’t be none of them, not boys nor girls neither, allowed to know anything about — about things till they was married. It’s terrible the bald way that some folks talk. It just shows and gives away what awful thoughts they got inside them, and there’s nothing can cure them except coming right to God and kneeling down like I do at prayer-meeting every Wednesday evening, and saying, ‘O God, I would be a miserable131 sinner except for thy grace.’
“I’d make every last one of these brats132 go to Sunday School and learn to think about nice things ‘stead of about cigarettes and goings-on — and these dances they have at the lodges133 are the worst thing that ever happened to this town, lot of young men squeezing girls and finding out —— Oh, it’s dreadful. I’ve told the mayor he ought to put a stop to them and —— There was one boy in this town, I don’t want to be suspicious or uncharitable but ——”
It was half an hour before Carol escaped.
She stopped on her own porch and thought viciously:
“If that woman is on the side of the angels, then I have no choice; I must be on the side of the devil. But — isn’t she like me? She too wants to ‘reform the town’! She too criticizes everybody! She too thinks the men are vulgar and limited! AM I LIKE HER? This is ghastly!”
That evening she did not merely consent to play cribbage with Kennicott; she urged him to play; and she worked up a hectic134 interest in land-deals and Sam Clark.
VIII
In courtship days Kennicott had shown her a photograph of Nels Erdstrom’s baby and log cabin, but she had never seen the Erdstroms. They had become merely “patients of the doctor.” Kennicott telephoned her on a mid-December afternoon, “Want to throw your coat on and drive out to Erdstrom’s with me? Fairly warm. Nels got the jaundice.”
“Oh yes!” She hastened to put on woolen135 stockings, high boots, sweater, muffler, cap, mittens136.
The snow was too thick and the ruts frozen too hard for the motor. They drove out in a clumsy high carriage. Tucked over them was a blue woolen cover, prickly to her wrists, and outside of it a buffalo137 robe, humble138 and moth-eaten now, used ever since the bison herds139 had streaked140 the prairie a few miles to the west.
The scattered141 houses between which they passed in town were small and desolate142 in contrast to the expanse of huge snowy yards and wide street. They crossed the railroad tracks, and instantly were in the farm country. The big piebald horses snorted clouds of steam, and started to trot. The carriage squeaked143 in rhythm. Kennicott drove with clucks of “There boy, take it easy!” He was thinking. He paid no attention to Carol. Yet it was he who commented, “Pretty nice, over there,” as they approached an oak-grove where shifty winter sunlight quivered in the hollow between two snow-drifts.
They drove from the natural prairie to a cleared district which twenty years ago had been forest. The country seemed to stretch unchanging to the North Pole: low hill, brush- scraggly bottom, reedy creek144, muskrat145 mound146, fields with frozen brown clods thrust up through the snow.
Her ears and nose were pinched; her breath frosted her collar; her fingers ached.
“Getting colder,” she said.
“Yup.”
That was all their conversation for three miles. Yet she was happy.
They reached Nels Erdstrom’s at four, and with a throb3 she recognized the courageous venture which had lured147 her to Gopher Prairie: the cleared fields, furrows148 among stumps149, a log cabin chinked with mud and roofed with dry hay. But Nels had prospered150. He used the log cabin as a barn; and a new house reared up, a proud, unwise, Gopher Prairie house, the more naked and ungraceful in its glossy151 white paint and pink trimmings. Every tree had been cut down. The house was so unsheltered, so battered152 by the wind, so bleakly thrust out into the harsh clearing, that Carol shivered. But they were welcomed warmly enough in the kitchen, with its crisp new plaster, its black and nickel range, its cream separator in a corner.
Mrs. Erdstrom begged her to sit in the parlor, where there was a phonograph and an oak and leather davenport, the prairie farmer’s proofs of social progress, but she dropped down by the kitchen stove and insisted, “Please don’t mind me.” When Mrs. Erdstrom had followed the doctor out of the room Carol glanced in a friendly way at the grained pine cupboard, the framed Lutheran Konfirmations Attest153, the traces of fried eggs and sausages on the dining table against the wall, and a jewel among calendars, presenting not only a lithographic young woman with cherry lips, and a Swedish advertisement of Axel Egge’s grocery, but also a thermometer and a match- holder154.
She saw that a boy of four or five was staring at her from the hall, a boy in gingham shirt and faded corduroy trousers, but large-eyed, firm-mouthed, wide-browed. He vanished, then peeped in again, biting his knuckles155, turning his shoulder toward her in shyness.
Didn’t she remember — what was it? — Kennicott sitting beside her at Fort Snelling, urging, “See how scared that baby is. Needs some woman like you.”
Magic had fluttered about her then — magic of sunset and cool air and the curiosity of lovers. She held out her hands as much to that sanctity as to the boy.
He edged into the room, doubtfully sucking his thumb.
“Hello,” she said. “What’s your name?”
“Hee, hee, hee!”
“You’re quite right. I agree with you. Silly people like me always ask children their names.”
“Hee, hee, hee!”
“Come here and I’ll tell you the story of — well, I don’t know what it will be about, but it will have a slim heroine and a Prince Charming.”
He stood stoically while she spun156 nonsense. His giggling157 ceased. She was winning him. Then the telephone bell — two long rings, one short.
Mrs. Erdstrom galloped158 into the room, shrieked159 into the transmitter, “Vell? Yes, yes, dis is Erdstrom’s place! Heh? Oh, you vant de doctor?”
Kennicott appeared, growled160 into the telephone:
“Well, what do you want? Oh, hello Dave; what do you want? Which Morgenroth’s? Adolph’s? All right. Amputation161? Yuh, I see. Say, Dave, get Gus to harness up and take my surgical162 kit37 down there — and have him take some chloroform. I’ll go straight down from here. May not get home tonight. You can get me at Adolph’s. Huh? No, Carrie can give the anesthetic163, I guess. G’-by. Huh? No; tell me about that tomorrow — too damn many people always listening in on this farmers’ line.”
He turned to Carol. “Adolph Morgenroth, farmer ten miles southwest of town, got his arm crushed-fixing his cow-shed and a post caved in on him — smashed him up pretty bad — may have to amputate, Dave Dyer says. Afraid we’ll have to go right from here. Darn sorry to drag you clear down there with me ——”
“Please do. Don’t mind me a bit.”
“Think you could give the anesthetic? Usually have my driver do it.”
“If you’ll tell me how.”
“All right. Say, did you hear me putting one over on these goats that are always rubbering in on party-wires? I hope they heard me! Well. . . . Now, Bessie, don’t you worry about Nels. He’s getting along all right. Tomorrow you or one of the neighbors drive in and get this prescription filled at Dyer’s. Give him a teaspoonful164 every four hours. Good- by. Hel-lo! Here’s the little fellow! My Lord, Bessie, it ain’t possible this is the fellow that used to be so sickly? Why, say, he’s a great big strapping165 Svenska now — going to be bigger ‘n his daddy!”
Kennicott’s bluffness166 made the child squirm with a delight which Carol could not evoke167. It was a humble wife who followed the busy doctor out to the carriage, and her ambition was not to play Rachmaninoff better, nor to build town halls, but to chuckle50 at babies.
The sunset was merely a flush of rose on a dome93 of silver, with oak twigs168 and thin poplar branches against it, but a silo on the horizon changed from a red tank to a tower of violet misted over with gray. The purple road vanished, and without lights, in the darkness of a world destroyed, they swayed on — toward nothing.
It was a bumpy169 cold way to the Morgenroth farm, and she was asleep when they arrived.
Here was no glaring new house with a proud phonograph, but a low whitewashed kitchen smelling of cream and cabbage. Adolph Morgenroth was lying on a couch in the rarely used dining-room. His heavy work-scarred wife was shaking her hands in anxiety.
Carol felt that Kennicott would do something magnificent and startling. But he was casual. He greeted the man, “Well, well, Adolph, have to fix you up, eh?” Quietly, to the wife, “Hat die drug store my schwartze bag hier geschickt? So — schon. Wie viel Uhr ist ‘s? Sieben? Nun, lassen uns ein wenig supper zuerst haben. Got any of that good beer left — giebt ‘s noch Bier?”
He had supped in four minutes. His coat off, his sleeves rolled up, he was scrubbing his hands in a tin basin in the sink, using the bar of yellow kitchen soap.
Carol had not dared to look into the farther room while she labored170 over the supper of beer, rye bread, moist cornbeef and cabbage, set on the kitchen table. The man in there was groaning171. In her one glance she had seen that his blue flannel172 shirt was open at a corded tobacco-brown neck, the hollows of which were sprinkled with thin black and gray hairs. He was covered with a sheet, like a corpse173, and outside the sheet was his right arm, wrapped in towels stained with blood.
But Kennicott strode into the other room gaily174, and she followed him. With surprising delicacy175 in his large fingers he unwrapped the towels and revealed an arm which, below the elbow, was a mass of blood and raw flesh. The man bellowed176. The room grew thick about her; she was very seasick177; she fled to a chair in the kitchen. Through the haze178 of nausea179 she heard Kennicott grumbling, “Afraid it will have to come off, Adolph. What did you do? Fall on a reaper180 blade? We’ll fix it right up. Carrie! CAROL!”
She couldn’t — she couldn’t get up. Then she was up, her knees like water, her stomach revolving181 a thousand times a second, her eyes filmed, her ears full of roaring. She couldn’t reach the dining-room. She was going to faint. Then she was in the dining-room, leaning against the wall, trying to smile, flushing hot and cold along her chest and sides, while Kennicott mumbled182, “Say, help Mrs. Morgenroth and me carry him in on the kitchen table. No, first go out and shove those two tables together, and put a blanket on them and a clean sheet.”
It was salvation183 to push the heavy tables, to scrub them, to be exact in placing the sheet. Her head cleared; she was able to look calmly in at her husband and the farmwife while they undressed the wailing184 man, got him into a clean nightgown, and washed his arm. Kennicott came to lay out his instruments. She realized that, with no hospital facilities, yet with no worry about it, her husband — HER HUSBAND— was going to perform a surgical operation, that miraculous185 boldness of which one read in stories about famous surgeons.
She helped them to move Adolph into the kitchen. The man was in such a funk that he would not use his legs. He was heavy, and smelled of sweat and the stable. But she put her arm about his waist, her sleek186 head by his chest; she tugged187 at him; she clicked her tongue in imitation of Kennicott’s cheerful noises.
When Adolph was on the table Kennicott laid a hemispheric steel and cotton frame on his face; suggested to Carol, “Now you sit here at his head and keep the ether dripping — about this fast, see? I’ll watch his breathing. Look who’s here! Real anesthetist! Ochsner hasn’t got a better one! Class, eh? . . . Now, now, Adolph, take it easy. This won’t hurt you a bit. Put you all nice and asleep and it won’t hurt a bit. Schweig’ mal! Bald schlaft man grat wie ein Kind. So! So! Bald geht’s besser!”
As she let the ether drip, nervously188 trying to keep the rhythm that Kennicott had indicated, Carol stared at her husband with the abandon of hero-worship.
He shook his head. “Bad light — bad light. Here, Mrs. Morgenroth, you stand right here and hold this lamp. Hier, und dieses — dieses lamp halten — so!”
By that streaky glimmer189 he worked, swiftly, at ease. The room was still. Carol tried to look at him, yet not look at the seeping190 blood, the crimson slash40, the vicious scalpel. The ether fumes191 were sweet, choking. Her head seemed to be floating away from her body. Her arm was feeble.
It was not the blood but the grating of the surgical saw on the living bone that broke her, and she knew that she had been fighting off nausea, that she was beaten. She was lost in dizziness. She heard Kennicott’s voice
“Sick? Trot outdoors couple minutes. Adolph will stay under now.”
She was fumbling at a door-knob which whirled in insulting circles; she was on the stoop, gasping192, forcing air into her chest, her head clearing. As she returned she caught the scene as a whole: the cavernous kitchen, two milk-cans a leaden patch by the wall, hams dangling193 from a beam, bats of light at the stove door, and in the center, illuminated194 by a small glass lamp held by a frightened stout195 woman, Dr. Kennicott bending over a body which was humped under a sheet — the surgeon, his bare arms daubed with blood, his hands, in pale- yellow rubber gloves, loosening the tourniquet196, his face without emotion save when he threw up his head and clucked at the farmwife, “Hold that light steady just a second more — noch blos esn wenig.”
“He speaks a vulgar, common, incorrect German of life and death and birth and the soil. I read the French and German of sentimental197 lovers and Christmas garlands. And I thought that it was I who had the culture!” she worshiped as she returned to her place.
After a time he snapped, “That’s enough. Don’t give him any more ether.” He was concentrated on tying an artery198. His gruffness seemed heroic to her.
As he shaped the flap of flesh she murmured, “Oh, you ARE wonderful!”
He was surprised. “Why, this is a cinch. Now if it had been like last week —— Get me some more water. Now last week I had a case with an ooze199 in the peritoneal cavity, and by golly if it wasn’t a stomach ulcer200 that I hadn’t suspected and —— There. Say, I certainly am sleepy. Let’s turn in here. Too late to drive home. And tastes to me like a storm coming.”
IX
They slept on a feather bed with their fur coats over them; in the morning they broke ice in the pitcher201 — the vast flowered and gilt202 pitcher.
Kennicott’s storm had not come. When they set out it was hazy203 and growing warmer. After a mile she saw that he was studying a dark cloud in the north. He urged the horses to the run. But she forgot his unusual haste in wonder at the tragic204 landscape. The pale snow, the prickles of old stubble, and the clumps205 of ragged206 brush faded into a gray obscurity. Under the hillocks were cold shadows. The willows207 about a farmhouse208 were agitated209 by the rising wind, and the patches of bare wood where the bark had peeled away were white as the flesh of a leper. The snowy slews210 were of a harsh flatness. The whole land was cruel, and a climbing cloud of slate-edged blackness dominated the sky.
“Guess we’re about in for a blizzard211,” speculated Kennicott “We can make Ben McGonegal’s, anyway.”
“Blizzard? Really? Why —— But still we used to think they were fun when I was a girl. Daddy had to stay home from court, and we’d stand at the window and watch the snow.”
“Not much fun on the prairie. Get lost. Freeze to death. Take no chances.” He chirruped at the horses. They were flying now, the carriage rocking on the hard ruts.
The whole air suddenly crystallized into large damp flakes. The horses and the buffalo robe were covered with snow; her face was wet; the thin butt212 of the whip held a white ridge213. The air became colder. The snowflakes were harder; they shot in level lines, clawing at her face.
She could not see a hundred feet ahead.
Kennicott was stern. He bent214 forward, the reins215 firm in his coonskin gauntlets. She was certain that he would get through. He always got through things.
Save for his presence, the world and all normal living disappeared. They were lost in the boiling snow. He leaned close to bawl216, “Letting the horses have their heads. They’ll get us home.”
With a terrifying bump they were off the road, slanting217 with two wheels in the ditch, but instantly they were jerked back as the horses fled on. She gasped. She tried to, and did not, feel brave as she pulled the woolen robe up about her chin.
They were passing something like a dark wall on the right. “I know that barn!” he yelped218. He pulled at the reins. Peeping from the covers she saw his teeth pinch his lower lip, saw him scowl219 as he slackened and sawed and jerked sharply again at the racing220 horses.
They stopped.
“Farmhouse there. Put robe around you and come on,” he cried.
It was like diving into icy water to climb out of the carriage, but on the ground she smiled at him, her face little and childish and pink above the buffalo robe over her shoulders. In a swirl221 of flakes which scratched at their eyes like a maniac222 darkness, he unbuckled the harness. He turned and plodded223 back, a ponderous224 furry225 figure, holding the horses’ bridles226, Carol’s hand dragging at his sleeve.
They came to the cloudy bulk of a barn whose outer wall was directly upon the road. Feeling along it, he found a gate, led them into a yard, into the barn. The interior was warm. It stunned227 them with its languid quiet.
He carefully drove the horses into stalls.
Her toes were coals of pain. “Let’s run for the house,” she said.
“Can’t. Not yet. Might never find it. Might get lost ten feet away from it. Sit over in this stall, near the horses. We’ll rush for the house when the blizzard lifts.”
“I’m so stiff! I can’t walk!”
He carried her into the stall, stripped off her overshoes and boots, stopping to blow on his purple fingers as he fumbled228 at her laces. He rubbed her feet, and covered her with the buffalo robe and horse-blankets from the pile on the feed-box. She was drowsy, hemmed229 in by the storm. She sighed:
“You’re so strong and yet so skilful230 and not afraid of blood or storm or ——”
“Used to it. Only thing that’s bothered me was the chance the ether fumes might explode, last night.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Why, Dave, the darn fool, sent me ether, instead of chloroform like I told him, and you know ether fumes are mighty inflammable, especially with that lamp right by the table. But I had to operate, of course — wound chuck-full of barnyard filth231 that way.”
“You knew all the time that —— Both you and I might have been blown up? You knew it while you were operating?”
“Sure. Didn’t you? Why, what’s the matter?”
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收听单词发音
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1
fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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clumping
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| v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的现在分词 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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5
drowsiness
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| n.睡意；嗜睡 | |
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colloquy
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| n.谈话，自由讨论 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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nun
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| n.修女，尼姑 | |
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rigidity
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| adj.钢性，坚硬 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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12
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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13
growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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14
frigid
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| adj.寒冷的，凛冽的；冷淡的；拘禁的 | |
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exquisitely
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| adv.精致地；强烈地；剧烈地；异常地 | |
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drowsy
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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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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chilly
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| adj.凉快的，寒冷的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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heroism
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| n.大无畏精神，英勇 | |
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wireless
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| adj.无线的；n.无线电 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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23
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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bleakly
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| 无望地，阴郁地，苍凉地 | |
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25
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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26
shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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30
fussy
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| adj.为琐事担忧的，过分装饰的，爱挑剔的 | |
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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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32
sifted
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| v.筛( sift的过去式和过去分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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aspirations
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| 强烈的愿望( aspiration的名词复数 )； 志向； 发送气音； 发 h 音 | |
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capability
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| n.能力；才能；(pl)可发展的能力或特性等 | |
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appendicitis
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| n.阑尾炎，盲肠炎 | |
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kit
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| n.用具包，成套工具；随身携带物 | |
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38
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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39
slashed
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| v.挥砍( slash的过去式和过去分词 )；鞭打；割破；削减 | |
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40
slash
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| vi.大幅度削减；vt.猛砍，尖锐抨击，大幅减少；n.猛砍，斜线，长切口，衣衩 | |
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41
detested
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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43
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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44
disillusion
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| vt.使不再抱幻想，使理想破灭 | |
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45
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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46
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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47
jolting
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| adj.令人震惊的 | |
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48
courageous
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| adj.勇敢的，有胆量的 | |
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49
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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50
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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51
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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52
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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53
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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54
puckered
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| v.（使某物）起褶子或皱纹( pucker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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55
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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56
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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57
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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58
amorous
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| adj.多情的；有关爱情的 | |
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59
lumbered
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| 砍伐（lumber的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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60
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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61
canonical
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| n.权威的；典型的 | |
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62
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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63
honking
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| v.（使）发出雁叫似的声音，鸣（喇叭），按（喇叭）( honk的现在分词 ) | |
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64
clots
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| n.凝块( clot的名词复数 )；血块；蠢人；傻瓜v.凝固( clot的第三人称单数 ) | |
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65
ruby
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| n.红宝石，红宝石色 | |
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66
joyously
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| ad.快乐地, 高兴地 | |
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67
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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68
haven
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| n.安全的地方，避难所，庇护所 | |
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69
tacking
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| （帆船）抢风行驶，定位焊[铆]紧钉 | |
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70
gust
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| n.阵风，突然一阵（雨、烟等），（感情的）迸发 | |
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71
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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72
dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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73
busting
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| 打破，打碎( bust的现在分词 )； 突击搜查（或搜捕）； （使）降级，降低军阶 | |
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74
astounding
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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75
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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76
thermos
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| n.保湿瓶，热水瓶 | |
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77
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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78
bustled
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| 闹哄哄地忙乱，奔忙( bustle的过去式和过去分词 )； 催促 | |
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79
predecessor
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| n.前辈，前任 | |
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80
enameled
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| 涂瓷釉于，给…上瓷漆，给…上彩饰( enamel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
sterilizer
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| n.消毒者，消毒器 | |
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82
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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83
suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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84
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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85
scaly
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| adj.鱼鳞状的；干燥粗糙的 | |
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86
frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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87
ushering
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的现在分词 ) | |
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88
bleached
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| 漂白的，晒白的，颜色变浅的 | |
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89
trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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90
gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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91
prescription
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| n.处方，开药；指示，规定 | |
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92
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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93
dome
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| n.圆屋顶，拱顶 | |
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94
martyrs
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|
| n.martyr的复数形式；烈士( martyr的名词复数 )；殉道者；殉教者；乞怜者（向人诉苦以博取同情） | |
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95
trot
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| n.疾走，慢跑；n.老太婆；现成译本；(复数）trots:腹泻（与the 连用）；v.小跑，快步走，赶紧 | |
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96
hideous
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| adj.丑陋的，可憎的，可怕的，恐怖的 | |
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97
politic
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| adj.有智虑的；精明的；v.从政 | |
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98
bullied
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| adj.被欺负了v.恐吓，威逼( bully的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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99
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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100
insurgent
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| adj.叛乱的，起事的；n.叛乱分子 | |
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101
moles
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| 防波堤( mole的名词复数 )； 鼹鼠； 痣； 间谍 | |
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102
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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103
sneak
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|
| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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104
antiquity
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| n.古老；高龄；古物，古迹 | |
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105
rebuked
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| 责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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107
whitewashed
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| 粉饰，美化，掩饰( whitewash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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108
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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109
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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110
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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111
lamented
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| adj.被哀悼的，令人遗憾的v.（为…）哀悼，痛哭，悲伤( lament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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112
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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113
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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114
depicting
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| 描绘，描画( depict的现在分词 )； 描述 | |
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115
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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116
aluminum
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| n.(aluminium)铝 | |
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117
eloquence
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| n.雄辩；口才，修辞 | |
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118
piety
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| n.虔诚，虔敬 | |
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119
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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120
rumor
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| n.谣言，谣传，传说 | |
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121
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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122
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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123
hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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124
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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125
scents
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| n.香水( scent的名词复数 )；气味；（动物的）臭迹；（尤指狗的）嗅觉 | |
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126
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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127
harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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128
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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129
sociable
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| adj.好交际的，友好的，合群的 | |
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130
horrid
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| adj.可怕的；令人惊恐的；恐怖的；极讨厌的 | |
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131
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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132
brats
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| n.调皮捣蛋的孩子( brat的名词复数 ) | |
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133
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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134
hectic
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| adj.肺病的；消耗热的；发热的；闹哄哄的 | |
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135
woolen
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| adj.羊毛(制)的；毛纺的 | |
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136
mittens
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| 不分指手套 | |
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137
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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138
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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139
herds
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| 兽群( herd的名词复数 )； 牧群； 人群； 群众 | |
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140
streaked
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| adj.有条斑纹的，不安的v.快速移动( streak的过去式和过去分词 )；使布满条纹 | |
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141
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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142
desolate
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| adj.荒凉的，荒芜的；孤独的，凄凉的；v.使荒芜，使孤寂 | |
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143
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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144
creek
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| n.小溪，小河，小湾 | |
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145
muskrat
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| n.麝香鼠 | |
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146
mound
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| n.土墩，堤，小山；v.筑堤，用土堆防卫 | |
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147
lured
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| 吸引，引诱（lure的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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148
furrows
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| n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 )；（脸上的）皱纹v.犁田，开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
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149
stumps
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| （被砍下的树的）树桩( stump的名词复数 )； 残肢； （板球三柱门的）柱； 残余部分 | |
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150
prospered
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| 成功，兴旺( prosper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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151
glossy
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| adj.平滑的；有光泽的 | |
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152
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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153
attest
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| vt.证明，证实；表明 | |
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154
holder
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| n.持有者，占有者；(台，架等)支持物 | |
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155
knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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156
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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157
giggling
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的现在分词 ) | |
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158
galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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159
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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161
amputation
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| n.截肢 | |
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162
surgical
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| adj.外科的，外科医生的，手术上的 | |
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163
anesthetic
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| n.麻醉剂，麻药；adj.麻醉的，失去知觉的 | |
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164
teaspoonful
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| n.一茶匙的量；一茶匙容量 | |
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165
strapping
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| adj. 魁伟的, 身材高大健壮的 n. 皮绳或皮带的材料, 裹伤胶带, 皮鞭 动词strap的现在分词形式 | |
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166
bluffness
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| 率直，坦率，直峭 | |
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167
evoke
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| vt.唤起，引起，使人想起 | |
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168
twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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169
bumpy
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| adj.颠簸不平的，崎岖的 | |
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170
labored
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| adj.吃力的，谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 )；苦干；详细分析；（指引擎）缓慢而困难地运转 | |
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171
groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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172
flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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173
corpse
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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174
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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175
delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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176
bellowed
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| v.发出吼叫声，咆哮（尤指因痛苦）( bellow的过去式和过去分词 )；（愤怒地）说出（某事），大叫 | |
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177
seasick
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| adj.晕船的 | |
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178
haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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179
nausea
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| n.作呕，恶心；极端的憎恶(或厌恶) | |
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180
reaper
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| n.收割者，收割机 | |
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181
revolving
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| adj.旋转的，轮转式的；循环的v.（使）旋转( revolve的现在分词 )；细想 | |
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182
mumbled
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| 含糊地说某事，叽咕，咕哝( mumble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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183
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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184
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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185
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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186
sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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187
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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188
nervously
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| adv.神情激动地，不安地 | |
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189
glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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190
seeping
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| v.（液体）渗( seep的现在分词 )；渗透；渗出；漏出 | |
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191
fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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192
gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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193
dangling
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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194
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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196
tourniquet
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| n.止血器，绞压器，驱血带 | |
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197
sentimental
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| adj.多愁善感的，感伤的 | |
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198
artery
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| n.干线，要道；动脉 | |
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199
ooze
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| n.软泥，渗出物；vi.渗出，泄漏；vt.慢慢渗出，流露 | |
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200
ulcer
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| n.溃疡，腐坏物 | |
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201
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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202
gilt
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| adj.镀金的；n.金边证券 | |
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203
hazy
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| adj.有薄雾的，朦胧的；不肯定的，模糊的 | |
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204
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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205
clumps
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| n.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的名词复数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的第三人称单数 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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willows
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| n.柳树( willow的名词复数 )；柳木 | |
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208
farmhouse
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| n.农场住宅（尤指主要住房） | |
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agitated
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| adj.被鼓动的，不安的 | |
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slews
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| n.许多，大量( slew的名词复数 )v.螫伤，刺伤( sting的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blizzard
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| n.暴风雪 | |
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butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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bawl
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| v.大喊大叫，大声地喊，咆哮 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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yelped
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| v.发出短而尖的叫声( yelp的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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swirl
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| v.(使)打漩，(使)涡卷；n.漩涡，螺旋形 | |
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maniac
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| n.精神癫狂的人；疯子 | |
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plodded
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| v.沉重缓慢地走（路）( plod的过去式和过去分词 )；努力从事；沉闷地苦干；缓慢进行（尤指艰难枯燥的工作） | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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furry
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| adj.毛皮的；似毛皮的；毛皮制的 | |
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bridles
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| 约束( bridle的名词复数 )； 限动器； 马笼头； 系带 | |
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stunned
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| adj. 震惊的，惊讶的 动词stun的过去式和过去分词 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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hemmed
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| 缝…的褶边( hem的过去式和过去分词 )； 包围 | |
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skilful
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| (=skillful)adj.灵巧的，熟练的 | |
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filth
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| n.肮脏，污物，污秽；淫猥 | |
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