Hetty, the maid, came into the garden looking worried. She did not stand on the steps and yell, as was customary, as though daring me to disobey her. She caught up her skirts with a dignified4 air and spoke5 my name softly, employing the honeyed tones with which she enticed6 our milkman every morning. I perceived at once that something momentous7 had occurred, and came out from behind the bushes. Then I saw the reason for her sudden change of manners—the purple mustached stranger was watching us from behind the curtains of my father’s study-window. I was most agreeably and unpresentably grubby. Hetty was distressed8 at my appearance; I knew she was by the way she kept hurting my hand and muttering to me to hide behind her.
When we got inside the house she became voluble, but only in whispers.
“Now, Master Dante, I can’t ’elp it if the soap do get into your mouth. You’ve got to be a clean boy fer once in yer h’existence. It may mean h’everythin’. That gent’s some relation o’ yourn. ’E’s goin’ to take you away wiv him, an’ he may ’ave money. I shall ’ate to lose yer. Now let’s look at yer neck.”
She scrubbed away at my face till it was scarlet9; she let the water from the flannel10 trickle11 down my back. I was too awe-inspired to wriggle12; by some occult power the dreadful personage downstairs might learn about it. Having been pitched into my Sunday sailor-suit and squeezed into a pair of new boots and prickly stockings, I was bundled into the august presence.
When I entered he was straddling the fire-place carpet—the one which ought to have been magic—and waggling his coat-tails with his hands.
My father rose from his chair. “This is your great-uncle, Obadiah Spreckles. Come and be introduced, Dante.”
Up to now I had never heard of such a relative, but I came timidly forward and shook hands.
“A fine little fellow. A very fine little fellow, and the image of his mother,” said my great-uncle.
My father winced13 at the mention of my mother. My great-uncle spread his legs still wider and addressed me in a jerky important manner.
“Got a lot of dogs and cats. Got a goat and a cow. Got some hens. Got up early this morning. Saw the sun shining. Thought you might like to take a look at ’em, young man.”
Turning to my father, “Well, Cardover, I must be going. I’ll take good care of him and all that. I’m very busy—hardly a moment to spare.”
Before I knew what had happened, I had said good-bye to my father and was standing14 in the lane alone with my strange uncle.
When the door had banged and he knew that no grownup could see him, he changed his manner. His hurry left him. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he looked down into my face, laughing. “Now for a good time, old chap.”
At the end of the lane, where the posts blocked the passage, stood a little dog-cart and pony15. My bag was stowed under the seat; at a click of the tongue from my uncle, the little beast started up like the wind.
It was a bright June morning. The sky was intensely blue and cloudless. The air was full of flower-fragrance and dreamy somnolence16. I had seen so little of the world that everything was vivid to me, and touched with the vagrant17 poetry of romance. Tram-lines were streaks18 of silver down the streets, shops were palaces, cabbies gentlemen who plied19 their trade because they loved horses. Postmen going their rounds were philanthropists. Everyone was free, doing what he liked, and happy. In my child’s way I realized that neither my father nor myself was typical—not all little boys were locked in gardens and not all grown men slaved from morning to midnight. A great lump came into my throat. It would have been quite easy to cry, I was so glad.
Uncle Obadiah kept chatting away, telling me that the name of his little mare20 was Dollie and how he came to buy her. “Couldn’t afford it, you know, old chap. She costs me ten shillings a week for fodder21. But when I saw that coster whacking22 her, and she looked up into my eyes when I went to stop him, I just couldn’t resist her. She seemed to be asking me to buy her, and I did. You should have heard what your Aunt Lavinia said.”
All the way along the streets he kept pointing with his whip to things that he thought were interesting. He engaged me in conversation—a thing which no one had thought worth doing. He asked me questions which were not senseless, and seemed to suppose that a child had reasoning powers. I was flattered, and began to surprise myself by the boldness of the things I said.
We rattled23 down the City Road, past the Mansion24 House, over London Bridge to the Elephant and Castle, and so out toward Dulwich till we came within sight of the Crystal Palace.
He began to slow down and grow pensive25, as though working out a problem. “You see, she’ll have lunch ready. She’s expecting us. She’s very precise about the keeping of hours and won’t like it.” Then, “Hang it all. We may as well have a holiday now we’re out.”
Shaking loose the reins26 we started forward again, racing27 everything we met upon the road. My uncle’s high spirits returned. I don’t know where we went. I know there were woods and farm-houses. We stopped for lunch at a village-inn. It stood on the edge of a gorse-common. On the common a donkey was grazing. A flock of geese wandered across it. Boys were playing cricket against a tree-stump. Several great wagons28, piled high with vegetables, were drawn29 up, the horses with their heads deep in nose-bags.
We had our meal in the tap-room with the wagoners. While they were present my uncle assumed his pontifical30 manner, addressing me as “young man” and them as “my good fellows.” He was very dignified, and benevolent31, and haughty32. They were much impressed. But when they had left and we were alone, he winked33 his eye at me solemnly, as much as to say “that was all pretense34. Now let’s be natural,” and entered once more into my boy’s world of escapades and gilded35 shadows.
While the mare rested, we strolled round. In a hollow of the woods we came across a gipsy encampment. Three yellow caravans36 were drawn up together. A fire was burning in the open, over which an iron pot was suspended from a bough37. A fierce, gaudily38 clad woman was bent39 above it stirring. She looked up at sound of our approach and the big ear-rings which dropped upon her neck jangled. Recognizing my uncle she nodded, and allowed us to sit down and watch her. Presently a rough man came out of the woods and threw himself down beside us. A young woman returned from fortune-telling, with her baby in a shawl across her shoulders. Bowls were brought out, and we had a second lunch from the great pot bubbling on the fire. Pipes were produced; the women smoked as well as the men. My uncle asked them where they had been and how they had fared since last he saw them. I listened intently to their answers; it seemed that they must have discovered the boundless40 garden of which I had only dreamt.
In the dog-cart on the homeward journey, I learnt that my uncle was acquainted with a number of queer people. “Everybody’s interesting, Dante,” he said, by way of excuse and explanation; “it’s never safe to despise anyone.”
In course of conversation he informed me that he had always longed to be a gipsy, but had never dared. When I asked why not, he answered shortly, “Your Aunt Lavinia—she’s not like us and wouldn’t understand.”
“But if there wasn’t any Aunt Lavinia—would you dare then?”
“I might have to,” he said, smiling grimly.
I didn’t know at all what he meant. He didn’t intend I should. After all these years those words, chance-spoken to a child, remain with me. They were as near to a confession41 that his wife supported him as was possible for a proud man.
My grandmother Cardover at Ransby, whose sister he had married, had a habit of nicknaming people with words of her own invention. She called my great-uncle The Spuffler. Whether the verb to Spuffle is Suffolk dialect or a word of her own coining, I have never been able to find out—but in its hostile sense it described him exactly.
A spuffler is a gay pretender, who hides his lack of success beneath the importance of his manners. Time is his one possession, and to him it is valueless; yet he tries to impress the world with its extreme rarity. A spuffler is always in a hurry; he talks loudly. He plays a game of make-believe that he is a person of far-reaching authority; he deceives others and almost deceives himself. He is usually small in stature42 and not infrequently bald-headed. In conversing43 he makes an imaginary lather44 with his hands and points his finger, at you. He may splutter and spit when he gets excited; but this is accidental and not necessary. The prime requisite45 is that he should affect the prosperity of a bank-president and be dependent on some quite obscure source for his pocket-money. Since I have lived in America I have become familiar with a word which is very similar—a bluffer47. But a bluffer is a conscious liar46 and may be a humorist, whereas a spuffler does all in his power to deceive himself and is always in dead earnest.
It is a curious fact that the men whom I loved best as a child were all three incompetents48 in the worldly sense. They were clever, but they lacked the faculty49 of marketing50 their talents. They were boys in men’s bodies. With children they had the hearts of children and were delightful51. With business men their light-heartedness counted as irresponsibility and was a drawback. In two out of the three cases named, the disappointments which resulted from continual defeat produced vices52. Only my Uncle Obadiah, clad in his armor of unpierceable spuffle, rode through the ranks of life scatheless53, with his sweetness unembittered and his integrity untarnished. But they were all good men.
Through the June twilight54 we returned to the outskirts55 of London. We turned in at a ruined gateway56, and rode through a tunnel of overhanging trees where laburnum blazed through the dusk. A long rambling57 house grew up before us. At one time it must have been the country estate of some city-merchant. At sound of our wheels on the gravel58, the front-door opened and a little lady stepped out to greet us. She was neat and speckless59 as a hospital nurse. Her body was slim and dainty as a girl’s. There was an air of decision and restraint about her, which was in direct opposition60 to my uncle’s hurried geniality61.
When we had halted, she lifted me out of the dog-cart and carried me into the house to a large room at the back, which looked into a shadowy garden and a paddock beyond. It seemed older and more opulent than any house I had known as yet. There was so much space about it.
My uncle came in from stabling Dollie. “Well, Lavinia, I couldn’t get home to lunch. Very sorry, but it couldn’t be helped.”
He darted62 a look across at me, wondering how much I had told her. The secret was established; I knew that I must hold my tongue. I knew something else—that he was afraid of her. Throughout the meal he kept up a stream of strenuous63 pretense, discussing large plans aloud with himself. What they were I cannot now remember. I suppose my grandmother would have called them spuffle. Suddenly he rose from the table, saying that he had a lot of letters to answer and excused himself. But when I went into his room an hour later to bid him good-night, he was sitting before his desk, doing nothing in particular, biting the end of his pen.
When my aunt and I were left together I felt very lonely at first. She had sat so silent all through supper.
But when the door had closed, she turned to me laughing. I knew at once that, like most grown-ups when they are together, she had only been shamming64. Now she was-going to be real.
“Did you have a good day in the country?” she asked. “Oh, he can’t deceive me; I could tell by the dust on the wheels.”
Then, realizing, I suppose, that it was not fair to pump me, she stopped asking questions and began to speak about myself. She drew up a chair to the window and sat with me in the dark with her arms about me. She seemed extraordinarily65 young, and when her silky gray hair touched my cheek as she bent above me, I wondered what had made my uncle say that she wasn’t like us and wouldn’t understand.
They each had their secret world of desire: his was the open road, where liberty was and lack of convention; hers was a home with fire-light and children. She was childless. Into both these worlds a little boy might enter. That night as I lay awake in bed I was puzzled. Why was it that grown people were so funny, and could never be real with one another?
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1
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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fretted
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| 焦躁的，附有弦马的，腐蚀的 | |
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tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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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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enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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momentous
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| adj.重要的，重大的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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flannel
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| n.法兰绒；法兰绒衣服 | |
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trickle
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| vi.淌，滴，流出，慢慢移动，逐渐消散 | |
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wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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winced
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| 赶紧避开，畏缩( wince的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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pony
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| adj.小型的；n.小马 | |
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somnolence
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| n.想睡，梦幻；欲寐；嗜睡；嗜眠 | |
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vagrant
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| n.流浪者，游民；adj.流浪的，漂泊不定的 | |
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streaks
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| n.（与周围有所不同的）条纹( streak的名词复数 )；（通常指不好的）特征（倾向）；（不断经历成功或失败的）一段时期v.快速移动( streak的第三人称单数 )；使布满条纹 | |
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plied
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| v.使用（工具）( ply的过去式和过去分词 )；经常供应（食物、饮料）；固定往来；经营生意 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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whacking
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| adj.（用于强调）巨大的v.重击，使劲打( whack的现在分词 ) | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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mansion
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| n.大厦，大楼；宅第 | |
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pensive
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| a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
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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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racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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pontifical
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| adj.自以为是的，武断的 | |
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benevolent
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| adj.仁慈的，乐善好施的 | |
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32
haughty
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| adj.傲慢的，高傲的 | |
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33
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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pretense
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| n.矫饰，做作，借口 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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caravans
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| （可供居住的）拖车（通常由机动车拖行）( caravan的名词复数 )； 篷车； （穿过沙漠地带的）旅行队（如商队） | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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gaudily
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| adv.俗丽地 | |
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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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boundless
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| adj.无限的；无边无际的；巨大的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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42
stature
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| n.（高度）水平，（高度）境界，身高，身材 | |
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conversing
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| v.交谈，谈话( converse的现在分词 ) | |
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44
lather
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| n.(肥皂水的)泡沫，激动 | |
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45
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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46
liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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47
bluffer
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| n.用假像骗人的人 | |
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48
incompetents
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| n.无能力的，不称职的，不胜任的( incompetent的名词复数 ) | |
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49
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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50
marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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51
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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52
vices
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| 缺陷( vice的名词复数 )； 恶习； 不道德行为； 台钳 | |
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53
scatheless
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| adj.无损伤的，平安的 | |
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54
twilight
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| n.暮光，黄昏；暮年，晚期，衰落时期 | |
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55
outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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56
gateway
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| n.大门口，出入口，途径，方法 | |
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57
rambling
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| adj.[建]凌乱的，杂乱的 | |
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gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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speckless
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| adj.无斑点的，无瑕疵的 | |
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opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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61
geniality
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| n.和蔼，诚恳；愉快 | |
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62
darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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63
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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64
shamming
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| 假装，冒充( sham的现在分词 ) | |
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extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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