On her way upstairs, however, Rosalind called her back with an eager petition.
“Oh, Peggy! would you mind awwanging some flowers? A big hamper3 has just awwived from town, and the servants are all so dweadfully busy. I must get dwessed in time to help mother to weceive, but it wouldn’t matter if you were a few minutes late. Thanks so much! Awfully5 obliged.”
She gave her thanks before an assent6 had been spoken, and tripped smilingly away, while Peggy went back to the big room to find a great tray full of hothouse treasures waiting to be arranged, and no availing vases in which to place them. The flowers, however, were so beautiful, and the fronds9 of maidenhair so green and graceful10, that the work was a pleasure; she enjoyed discovering unlikely places in which to group them, and lingered so long over her arrangements that the sudden striking of the clock sent her flying upstairs in a panic of consternation11. Another quarter of an hour and the vicarage party would arrive, for they had been bidden a little in advance of the rest, so that Robert might help his mother and sister in receiving their guests. Peggy tore off dress and apron12, and made all the speed she could, but she was still standing13 in dressing-jacket and frilled white petticoat, brushing out her long waves of hair when the door opened and Esther and Mellicent entered. They had begged to be shown to Miss Saville’s room, and came rustling14 in, smiling and beaming, with woollen caps over their heads, snow-shoes on their feet, and fleecy shawls swathed round and round their figures, and fastened with a hairpin15 on the left shoulder, in secure and elegant fashion. Peggy stood, brush in hand, staring at them and shaking with laughter.
“He! he! he! I hope you are warm enough! Esther looks like a sausage, and Mellicent looks like a dumpling. Come here, and I’ll unwind you. You look as if you could not move an inch, hand or foot.”
“It was mother,” Mellicent explained. “She was so afraid we would catch cold. Oh, Peggy, you are not half dressed. You will be late! Whatever have you been doing? Have you had a nice day? Did you enjoy it? What did you have for dinner?”
Peggy waved her brush towards the door in dramatic warning.
“Rosalind’s room!” she whispered. “Don’t yell, my love, unless you wish every word to be overheard. This is her dressing-room, which she lent to me for the occasion, so there’s only a door between us.—There, now, you are free. Oh, dear me, how you have squashed your sash! You really must remember to lift it up when you sit down. You had better stand with your back to the fire, to take out the creases16.”
Mellicent’s face clouded for a moment, but brightened again as she caught sight of her reflection in the swing glass. Crumples17 or no crumples, there was no denying that blue was a becoming colour. The plump, rosy18 cheeks dimpled with satisfaction, and the flaxen head was twisted to and fro to survey herself in every possible position.
“Is my hair right at the back? How does the bow look? I haven’t burst, have I? I thought I heard something crack in the cab. Do you think I will do?”
“Put on your slippers19, and I’ll tell you. Anyone would look a fright in evening dress and snow-shoes.”
Peggy’s answer was given with a severity which sent Mellicent waddling20 across the room to turn out the contents of the bag which lay on the couch, but the next moment came a squeal21 of consternation, and there she stood in the attitude of a tragedy queen, with staring eyes, parted lips, and two shabby black slippers grasped in either hand.
“M–m–m–my old ones!” she gasped22 in horror-stricken accents. “B–b–b–brought them by mistake!” It was some moments before her companions fully4 grasped the situation, for the new slippers had been black too, and of much the same make as those now exhibited. Mrs Asplin had had many yearnings over white shoes and stockings, all silk and satin, and tinkling23 diamond buckles24 like those which had been displayed in Peggy’s dress-box. Why should not her darlings have dainty possessions like other girls? It went to her heart to think what an improvement these two articles would make in the simple costumes; then she remembered her husband’s delicate health, his exhaustion25 at the end of the day, and the painful effort with which he nerved himself to fresh exertions26, and felt a bigger pang27 at the thought of wasting money so hardly earned. As her custom was on such occasions, she put the whole matter before the girls, talking to them as friends, and asking their help in her decision.
“You see, darlings,” she said, “I want to do my very best for you, and if it would be a real disappointment not to have these things, I’ll manage it somehow, for once in a way. But it’s a question whether you would have another chance of wearing them, and it seems a great deal of money to spend for just one evening, when poor dear father—”
“Oh, mother, no, don’t think of it! Black ones will do perfectly28 well. What can it matter what sort of shoes and stockings we wear? It won’t make the least difference in our enjoyment,” said Esther the sensible; but Mellicent was by no means of this opinion.
“I don’t know about that! I love white legs!” she sighed dolefully. “All my life long it has been my ambition to have white legs. Silk ones with little bits of lace let in down the front, like Peggy’s. They’re so beautiful! It doesn’t seem a bit like a party to wear black stockings; only of course I know I must, for I’d hate to waste father’s money. When I grow up I shall marry a rich man, and have everything I want. It’s disgusting to be poor... Will they be nice black slippers, mother, with buckles on them?”
“Yes, dearie. Beauties! Great big buckles!” said Mrs Asplin lovingly; and a few days later a box had come down from London, and the slippers had been chosen out of a selection of “leading novelties”; worn with care and reverence29 the previous evening, “to take off the stiffness,” and then after all—oh, the awfulness of it!—had been replaced by an old pair, in the bustle30 of departure.
The three girls stared at one another in consternation. Here was a catastrophe31 to happen just at the last moment, when everyone was so happy and well satisfied! The dismay on the chubby32 face was so pitiful that neither of Mellicent’s companions could find it in her heart to speak a word of reproof33. They rather set to work to propose different ways out of the difficulty.
“Get hold of Max, and coax34 him to go back for them!”
“He wouldn’t; it’s no use. It’s raining like anything, and it would take him an hour to go there and come back.”
“Ask Lady Darcy to send one of the servants—”
“No use, my dear. They are scampering35 up and down like mice, and haven’t a moment to spare from their own work.”
“See if Rosalind would lend me a pair!”
“Silly goose! Look at your foot. It is three times the size of hers. You will just have to wear them, I’m afraid. Give them to me, and let me see what can be done.” Peggy took the slippers in her hands and studied them critically. They were certainly not new, but then they were by no means old; just respectable, middle-aged36 creatures, slightly rubbed on the heel and white at the toes, but with many a day of good hard wear still before them.
“Oh, come,” she said reassuringly37, “they are not so bad, Mellicent! With a little polish they would look quite presentable. I’ll tap at the door and ask Rosalind if she has some that she can lend us. She is sure to have it. There are about fifty thousand bottles on her table.”
Peggy crossed the room as she spoke7, tapped on the panel, and received an immediate38 answer in a high complacent39 treble.
“Coming! Coming! I’m weady;” then the door flew open; a tiny pink silk shoe stepped daintily over the mat, and Rosalind stood before them in all the glory of a new Parisian dress. Three separate gasps40 of admiration41 greeted her appearance, and she stood smiling and dimpling while the girls took in the fascinating details—the satin frock of palest imaginable pink, the white chiffon over-dress which fell from shoulder to hem8 in graceful freedom, sprinkled over with exquisite42 rose—leaves—it was all wonderful—fantastic—as far removed from Peggy’s muslin as from the homely43 crepon of the vicar’s daughters.
“Rosalind! what a perfect angel you look!” gasped Mellicent, her own dilemma44 forgotten in her wholehearted admiration; but the next moment memory came back, and her expression changed to one of pitiful appeal. “But, oh, have you got any boot-polish? The most awful thing has happened. I’ve brought my old shoes by mistake! Look! I don’t know what on earth I shall do, if you can’t give me something to black the toes.” She held out the shoes as she spoke, and Rosalind gave a shrill45 scream of laughter.
“Oh! oh! Those things! How fwightfully funny! what a fwightful joke! You will look like Cinderwella, when she wan2 away, and the glass slippers changed back to her dweadful old clogs46. It is too scweamingly funny, I do declare!”
“Oh, never mind what you declare! Can you lend us some boot-polish—that’s the question!” cried Peggy sharply. She knew Mellicent’s horror of ridicule47, and felt indignant with the girl who could stand by, secure in her own beauty and elegance48, and have no sympathy for the misfortune of a friend. “If you have a bottle of peerless gloss49, or any of those shiny things with a sponge fastened on the cork50, I can make them look quite respectable, and no one will have any cause to laugh.”
“Ha, ha, ha!” trilled Rosalind once more, “Peggy is cwoss! I never knew such a girl for flying into tantwums at a moment’s notice! Yes, of course I’ll lend you the polish. There is some in this little cupboard—there! I won’t touch it, in case it soils my gloves. Shall I call Marie to put it on for you?”
“Thank you, there’s no need—I can do it! I would rather do it myself!”
“Oh—oh, isn’t she cwoss! You will bweak the cork if you scwew it about like that, and then you’ll never be able to get it out. Why don’t you pull it pwoperly?”
“I know how to pull out a cork, thank you; I’ve done it before!”
Peggy shot an angry glance at her hostess, and set to work again with doubled energy. Now that Rosalind had laughed at her inability, it would be misery51 to fail; but the bottle had evidently lain aside for some time, and a stiff black crust had formed round the cork which made it difficult to move. Peggy pulled and tugged53, while Rosalind stood watching, laughing her aggravating54, patronising little laugh, and dropping a word of instruction from time to time. And then, quite suddenly, a dreadful thing happened. In the flash of an eye—so quickly and unexpectedly, that, looking back upon it, it seemed like a nightmare which could not possibly have taken place in real life—the cork jerked out in Peggy’s hand, in response to a savage56 tug52, and with it out flew an inky jet, which rose straight up in the air, separated into a multitude of tiny drops, and descended58 in a flood—oh, the horror of that moment!—over Rosalind’s face, neck, and dress.
One moment a fairy princess, a goddess of summer, the next a figure of fun with black spots scattered59 thickly over cheeks and nose, a big splash on the white shoulder, and inky daubs dotted here and there between the rose-leaves. What a transformation60! What a spectacle of horror! Peggy stood transfixed; Mellicent screamed in terror; and Esther ran forward, handkerchief in hand, only to be waved aside with angry vehemence61. Rosalind’s face was convulsed with anger; she stamped her foot and spoke at the pitch of her voice, as if she had no control over her feelings.
“Oh, oh, oh! You wicked girl! you hateful, detestable girl! You did it on purpose, because you were in a temper! You have been in a temper all the afternoon! You have spoiled my dress! I was weady to go downstairs. It is eight o’clock. In a few minutes everyone will be here, and oh, what shall I do—what shall I do! Whatever will mother say when she sees me?”
As if to give a practical answer to this inquiry62, there came a sound of hasty footsteps in the corridor, the door flew open, and Lady Darcy rushed in, followed by the French maid.
“My darling, what is it? I heard your voice. Has something happened? Oh–h!” She stopped short, paralysed with consternation, while the maid wrung63 her hands in despair. “Rosalind, what have you done to yourself?”
“Nothing, nothing! It was Peggy Saville; she splashed me with her horrid64 boot-polish—I gave it to her for her shoes. It is on my face, my neck, in my mouth—”
“I was pulling the cork. It came out with a jerk. I didn’t know; I didn’t see!—”
Lady Darcy’s face stiffened65 with an expression of icy displeasure.
“It is too annoying! Your dress spoiled at the last moment! Inexcusable carelessness! What is to be done, Marie? I am in despair!”
The Frenchwoman shrugged66 her shoulders with an indignant glance in Peggy’s direction.
“There is nothing to do. Put on another dress—that is all. Mademoiselle must change as quick as she can. If I sponge the spots, I spoil the whole thing at once.”
“But you could cut them out, couldn’t you?” cried Peggy, the picture of woe67, yet miserably68 eager to make what amends69 she could. “You could cut out the spots with sharp scissors, and the holes would not show, for the chiffon is so full and loose. I—I think I could do it, if you would let me try!”
Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual70 glance, and the Frenchwoman nodded slowly.
“Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time, but still it can be done. It is the best plan.”
“Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and for pity’s sake don’t cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!”
Lady Darcy swept out of the room, and the three girls were once more left alone; but how changed were their feelings in those few short moments! There was not the shadow of a smile between them; they looked more as if they were about to attend a funeral than a scene of festivity, and for several moments no one had the heart to speak. Peggy still held the fatal cork in her hand, and went through the work of polishing Mellicent’s slippers with an air of the profoundest dejection. When they were finished she handed them over in dreary71 silence, and was recommencing the brushing of her hair, when something in the expression of the chubby face arrested her attention. Her eyes flashed; she faced round with a frown and a quick, “Well, what is it? What are you thinking now?”
“I—I wondered,” whispered Mellicent breathlessly, “if you did do it on purpose! Did you mean to spoil her dress, and make her change it?”
Peggy’s hands dropped to her side, her back straightened until she stood stiff and straight as a poker72. Every atom of expression seemed to die out of her face. Her voice had a deadly quiet in its intonation73.
“What do you think about it yourself?”
“I—I thought perhaps you did! She teased you, and you were so cross. You seemed to be standing so very near her, and you are jealous of her—and she looked so lovely! I thought perhaps you did...”
“Mellicent Asplin,” said Peggy quietly, and her voice was like the east wind that blows from an icy-covered mountain,—“Mellicent Asplin, my name is Saville, and in my family we don’t condescend74 to mean and dishonourable tricks. I may not like Rosalind, but I would have given all I have in the world sooner than this should have happened. I was trying to do you a service, but you forget that. You forget many things! I have been jealous of Rosalind, because when she arrived you and your sister forgot that I was alone and far-away from everyone belonging to me, and were so much engrossed75 with her that you left me alone to amuse myself as best I might. You were pleased enough to have me when no one else was there, but you left me the moment someone appeared who was richer and grander than I. I wouldn’t have treated you like that, if our positions had been reversed. If I dislike Rosalind, it is your fault as much as hers; more than hers, for it was you who made me dread55 her coming!”
Peggy stopped, trembling and breathless. There was a moment’s silence in the room, and then Esther spoke in a slow, meditative76 fashion.
“It is quite true!” she said. “We have left you alone, Peggy; but it is not quite so bad as you think. Really and truly we like you far the best, but—but Rosalind is such a change to us! Everything about her is so beautiful and so different, that she has always seemed the great excitement of our lives. I don’t know that I’m exactly fond of her, but I want to see her, and talk to her, and hear her speak, and she is only here for a short time in the year. It was because we looked upon you as really one of ourselves that we seemed to neglect you; but it was wrong, all the same. As for your spoiling her dress on purpose, it’s ridiculous to think of it. How could you say such a thing, Mellicent, when Peggy was trying to help you, too? How could you be so mean and horrid?”
“Oh, well, I’m sure I wish I were dead!” wailed78 Mellicent promptly79. “Nothing but fusses and bothers, and just when I thought I was going to be so happy! If I’d had white shoes, this would never have happened. Always the same thing! When you look forward to a treat, everything is as piggy and nasty as it can be! Wish I’d never come! Wish I’d stayed at home, and let the horrid old party go to Jericho! Rosalind’s crying, Peggy’s cross, you are preaching! This is a nice way to enjoy yourself, I must say!”
Nothing is more hopeless than to reason with a placid80 person who has lapsed81 into a fit of ill-temper. The two elder girls realised this, and remained perfectly silent while Mellicent continued to wish for death, to lament82 the general misery of life, and the bad fortune which attended the wearers of black slippers. So incessant83 was the stream of her repinings, that it seemed as if it might have gone on for ever, had not a servant entered at last, with the information that the guests were beginning to arrive, and that Lady Darcy would be glad to see the young ladies without delay. Esther was anxious to wait and help Peggy with her toilet, but that young lady was still on her dignity, and by no means anxious to descend57 to a scene of gaiety for which she had little heart. She refused the offer, therefore, in Mariquita fashion, and the sisters walked dejectedly along the brightly-lit corridors, Mellicent still continuing her melancholy84 wail77, and Esther reflecting sadly that all was vanity, and devoutly85 wishing herself back in the peaceful atmosphere of the vicarage.
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1
ordeal
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| n.苦难经历，（尤指对品格、耐力的）严峻考验 | |
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wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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hamper
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| vt.妨碍，束缚，限制；n.(有盖的)大篮子 | |
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4
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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hem
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| n.贴边，镶边；vt.缝贴边；(in)包围，限制 | |
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fronds
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| n.蕨类或棕榈类植物的叶子( frond的名词复数 ) | |
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10
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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consternation
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| n.大为吃惊，惊骇 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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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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rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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hairpin
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| n.簪,束发夹，夹发针 | |
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creases
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| （使…）起折痕，弄皱( crease的第三人称单数 )； （皮肤）皱起，使起皱纹 | |
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crumples
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| 压皱，弄皱( crumple的第三人称单数 )； 变皱 | |
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rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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slippers
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| n. 拖鞋 | |
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waddling
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的现在分词 ) | |
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21
squeal
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| v.发出长而尖的声音；n.长而尖的声音 | |
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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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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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buckles
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| 搭扣，扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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exertions
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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pang
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| n.剧痛，悲痛，苦闷 | |
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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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reverence
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| n.敬畏，尊敬，尊严；Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称；v.尊敬，敬畏，崇敬 | |
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30
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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31
catastrophe
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| n.大灾难，大祸 | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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scampering
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| v.蹦蹦跳跳地跑，惊惶奔跑( scamper的现在分词 ) | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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reassuringly
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| ad.安心，可靠 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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complacent
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| adj.自满的；自鸣得意的 | |
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40
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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41
admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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42
exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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43
homely
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| adj.家常的，简朴的；不漂亮的 | |
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44
dilemma
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| n.困境，进退两难的局面 | |
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45
shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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46
clogs
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| 木屐； 木底鞋，木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
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47
ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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48
elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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49
gloss
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| n.光泽，光滑；虚饰；注释；vt.加光泽于；掩饰 | |
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50
cork
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| n.软木，软木塞 | |
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51
misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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52
tug
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| v.用力拖(或拉)；苦干；n.拖；苦干；拖船 | |
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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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aggravating
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| adj.恼人的，讨厌的 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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transformation
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| n.变化；改造；转变 | |
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vehemence
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| n.热切；激烈；愤怒 | |
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inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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wrung
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| 绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 )； 握紧（尤指别人的手）； 把（湿衣服）拧干； 绞掉（水） | |
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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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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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poker
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| n.扑克；vt.烙制 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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engrossed
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| adj.全神贯注的 | |
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meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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lapsed
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| adj.流失的，堕落的v.退步( lapse的过去式和过去分词 )；陷入；倒退；丧失 | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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incessant
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| adj.不停的，连续的 | |
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84
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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devoutly
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| adv.虔诚地，虔敬地，衷心地 | |
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