With more than his usual alacrity4, old Peter Manson, bearing under his cloak the fresh loaf which he had just procured5 from the baker6 on such advantageous7 terms, hastened to his not very inviting8 home.
Drawing from his pocket a large and rusty9 door-key, he applied10 it to the door. It turned in the lock with a creaking sound, and the door yielding to Peter's push he entered.
The room which he appropriated to his own use was in the second story. It was a large room, of some eighteen feet square, and, as it is hardly necessary to say, was not set off by expensive furniture. The articles which came under this denomination11 were briefly12 these,—a cherry table which was minus one leg, whose place had been supplied by a broom handle fitted in its place; three hard wooden chairs of unknown antiquity13; an old wash-stand; a rusty stove which Peter had picked up cheap at an auction14, after finding that a stove burned out less fuel than a fireplace; a few articles of crockery of different[18] patterns, some cracked and broken; a few tin dishes, such as Peter found essential in his cooking; and a low truckle bedstead with a scanty15 supply of bedclothes.
Into this desolate16 home Peter entered.
There was an ember or two left in the stove, which the old man contrived17, by hard blowing, to kindle18 into life. On these he placed a few sticks, part of which he had picked up in the street early in the morning, and soon there was a little show of fire, over which the miser19 spread his hands greedily as if to monopolize20 what little heat might proceed therefrom. He looked wistfully at the pile of wood remaining, but prudence21 withheld22 him from putting on any more.
"Everything costs money," he muttered to himself. "Three times a day I have to eat, and that costs a sight. Why couldn't we get along with eating once a day? That would save two thirds. Then there's fire. That costs money, too. Why isn't it always summer? Then we shouldn't need any except to cook by. It seems a sin to throw away good, bright, precious gold on what is going to be[19] burnt up and float away in smoke. One might almost as well throw it into the river at once. Ugh! only to think of what it would cost if I couldn't pick up some sticks in the street. There was a little girl picking up some this morning when I was out. If it hadn't been for her, I should have got more. What business had she to come there, I should like to know?"
"Ugh, ugh!"
The blaze was dying out, and Peter was obliged, against his will, to put on a fresh supply of fuel.
By this time the miser's appetite began to assert itself, and rising from his crouching23 position over the fire he walked to the table on which he had deposited his loaf of bread. With an old jack-knife he carefully cut the loaf into two equal parts. One of these he put back into the closet. From the same place he also brought out a sausage, and placing it over the fire contrived to cook it after a fashion. Taking it off he placed it on a plate, and seated himself on a chair by the table.
[20]
It was long since the old man, accustomed to stale bread,—because he found it cheaper,—had tasted anything so delicious. No alderman ever smacked24 his lips over the most exquisite25 turtle soup with greater relish26 than Peter Manson over his banquet.
"It is very good," he muttered, with a sigh of satisfaction. "I don't fare so well every day. If it hadn't been for that unlucky piece of gold, perhaps the baker would have let me had another loaf at the same price."
He soon despatched the half loaf which he allotted27 to his evening meal.
"I think I could eat the other half," he said, with unsatisfied hunger; "but I must save that for breakfast. It is hurtful to eat too much. Besides, here is my sausage."
The sausage was rather burned than cooked, but Peter was neither nice nor fastidious. He did not eat the whole of the sausage, however, but reserved one half of this, too, for breakfast, though it proved so acceptable to his palate that he came near yielding to the temptation of eating the whole. But prudence, or rather avarice28, prevailed, and[21] shaking his head with renewed determination, he carried it to the closet and placed it on the shelf.
Between seven and eight o'clock Peter prepared to go to bed, partly because this would enable him to dispense29 with a fire, the cost of which he considered so ruinous. He had but just commenced his preparations for bed when a loud knock was heard at the street door.
At the first sound of the knocking Peter Manson started in affright. Such a thing had not occurred in his experience for years.
"It's some drunken fellow," thought Peter. "He's mistaken the house. I'll blow out the candle, and then he'll think there's nobody here."
He listened again, in hopes to hear the receding30 steps of the visitor, but in vain. After a brief interval31 there came another knock, louder and more imperative32 than the first.
Peter began to feel a little uneasy.
"Why don't he go?" he muttered, peevishly33.[22] "He can't have anything to do with me. Nobody ever comes here. He's mistaken the house."
His reflections were here interrupted by a volley of knocks, each apparently34 louder than the last.
"Oh dear, what shall I do?" exclaimed the miser with a ludicrous mixture of terror and perplexity. "It's some desperate ruffian, I know it is. I wish the police would come. I shall be robbed and murdered."
Peter went to the window and put his head out, hoping to discover something of his troublesome visitor. The noise of opening the window attracted his attention.
"Hilloa!" he shouted. "I thought I'd make you hear some time or other. I began to think you were as deaf as a post, or else had kicked the bucket."
"Who's there?" asked Peter, in a quavering voice.
"Who's there! Come down and see, and don't leave a fellow to hammer away all night at your old rat-trap. Come down, and open the door."
[23]
"This ain't the house," said Peter. "You've made a mistake. Nobody ever comes here."
"No more I should think they would, if you always keep 'em waiting as long as you have me. Come along down, and let me in."
"But I tell you," persisted Peter, who didn't at all like the visitor's manners, "that you've made a mistake. This ain't the house."
"Ain't what house, I'd like to know?"
"It ain't the house you think it is," said the old man, a little puzzled by this question.
"And what house do I think it is? Tell me that, you old——"
Probably the sentence would have been finished in a manner uncomplimentary to Peter, but perhaps, from motives35 of policy, the stranger suppressed what he had intended to say.
"I don't know," returned Peter, at a loss for a reply, "but there's a mistake somewhere. Nobody comes to see me."
"I shouldn't think they would," muttered the outsider, "but every rule has its exceptions, and somebody's come to see you now."
[24]
"You've mistaken the person."
"No, I haven't. Little chance of making a mistake. You're old Peter Manson."
"He has come to see me," thought Peter, uneasily; "but it cannot be for any good end. I won't let him in; no, I won't let him in."
"Well what are you going to do about it?" asked his would-be visitor, impatiently.
"It's too late to see you to-night."
"Fiddlestick!" retorted the other. "It isn't eight yet."
"I'm just going to bed," added Peter, becoming momentarily more uneasy at the man's obstinacy36.
"Going to bed at half past seven! Come, now, that's all a joke. You don't take me for a fool!"
"But I am," urged Peter, "I always do. I'm very poor, and can't afford to keep a fire and light going all the evening."
"You poor! Well, may be you are. But that ain't neither here nor there. I have got some important business to see you about, and you must let me in."
"Come to-morrow."
[25]
"It's no use; I must see you to-night. So just come down and let me in, or it'll be the worse for you."
"What a dreadful ruffian!" groaned37 Peter; "I wish the watch would come along, but it never does when it's wanted. Go away, good man," he said, in a wheedling38 tone. "Go away, and come again to-morrow."
"I tell you I won't go away. I must see you to-night."
Convinced that the man was not to be denied, Peter, groaning39 with fear, went down, and reluctantly drawing the bolt, admitted the visitor.
点击收听单词发音
1 tenement | |
n.公寓;房屋 | |
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2 prospect | |
n.前景,前途;景色,视野 | |
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3 apprehension | |
n.理解,领悟;逮捕,拘捕;忧虑 | |
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4 alacrity | |
n.敏捷,轻快,乐意 | |
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5 procured | |
v.(努力)取得, (设法)获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 );拉皮条 | |
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6 baker | |
n.面包师 | |
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7 advantageous | |
adj.有利的;有帮助的 | |
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8 inviting | |
adj.诱人的,引人注目的 | |
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9 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
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10 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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11 denomination | |
n.命名,取名,(度量衡、货币等的)单位 | |
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12 briefly | |
adv.简单地,简短地 | |
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13 antiquity | |
n.古老;高龄;古物,古迹 | |
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14 auction | |
n.拍卖;拍卖会;vt.拍卖 | |
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15 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
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16 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
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17 contrived | |
adj.不自然的,做作的;虚构的 | |
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18 kindle | |
v.点燃,着火 | |
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19 miser | |
n.守财奴,吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
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20 monopolize | |
v.垄断,独占,专营 | |
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21 prudence | |
n.谨慎,精明,节俭 | |
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22 withheld | |
withhold过去式及过去分词 | |
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23 crouching | |
v.屈膝,蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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24 smacked | |
拍,打,掴( smack的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25 exquisite | |
adj.精美的;敏锐的;剧烈的,感觉强烈的 | |
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26 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
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27 allotted | |
分配,拨给,摊派( allot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28 avarice | |
n.贪婪;贪心 | |
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29 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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30 receding | |
v.逐渐远离( recede的现在分词 );向后倾斜;自原处后退或避开别人的注视;尤指问题 | |
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31 interval | |
n.间隔,间距;幕间休息,中场休息 | |
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32 imperative | |
n.命令,需要;规则;祈使语气;adj.强制的;紧急的 | |
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33 peevishly | |
adv.暴躁地 | |
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34 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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35 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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36 obstinacy | |
n.顽固;(病痛等)难治 | |
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37 groaned | |
v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 );发牢骚;抱怨;受苦 | |
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38 wheedling | |
v.骗取(某物),哄骗(某人干某事)( wheedle的现在分词 ) | |
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39 groaning | |
adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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