In our extremity3 Mrs. Vernon (my wife) made a last appeal to Minerva. She went into the kitchen of our New York flat and said,
“Minerva, Mamie Logan, the girl we expected to have up at Clover Lodge, has scarlet fever.”
Minerva was blacking the stove (as I could see from the dining room), but she stopped and turned around as she always did when her mistress spoke4 to her, and said “Yas’m.”
“Well, do you know what that means, Minerva?”
“Means she’s sick, ma’am.”
“Yes, but it also means that I haven’t anybody to cook for me up there.”
“Yas’m.”
“Well, don’t you think you could go up if we gave you five dollars a month more than you’re getting now?”
Minerva rubbed her already black arm with the blacking brush in an absent-minded sort of way as she said,
“’Deed I hate the country. It’s so dismal5.”
I would have given up trying to get her to come then, as her tone sounded final to me, but Mrs. Vernon caught a gleam of willingness in her expression, and she said,
“Some country places may be doleful, Minerva, but Clover Lodge is in one of the most beautiful places in the world, and there’s a light kitchen and you can take ‘Miss Pussy6,’ you know. I’m sure you’ll like it and the work won’t be as hard as it is here and there’s lots of fresh air. And I’ll lend you books to read. If you won’t come we’ll have to give up going, as I won’t take a stranger up from the city.”
“Yas’m,” said Minerva, turning to the stove and beginning to use the brush again.
“Well, will you go, Minerva?”
“Yas’m.”
“Oh, you dear good thing,” said my wife, and I fully7 expected her to hug Minerva.
She came in to where I was finishing my second cup of coffee and said,
“Minerva is a jewel. She’s going up. Do you know, in some ways it’s better than if we had Mamie Logan because Minerva is a much better cook and she won’t have any beaux from the village to make a noise in the kitchen in the evening—”
“No, but you may have to import beaux from Thompson Street to solace8 her loneliness,” said I. “If I know the kind at all, Minerva will die one day away from New York.”
“Nonsense,” said Ethel. “She can’t help falling in love with the view from the kitchen windows. That lovely old purple Mount Nebo.”
I had my doubts of a New York born and bred colored cook falling in love with any view that did not comprehend a row of city houses somewhere in its composition, but I said nothing. The doctor had told me that Ethel absolutely needed a long rest in the “real country,” hill country preferred, and even if I had to go out and help Minerva in the kitchen I was going up.
We had spent a delightful9 week at Clover Lodge the year before with the Chauncey Wheelocks, but this year they were going to Europe and had proposed our renting it furnished and had promised Mamie Logan as cook. But a cordon10 bleu is not immune from scarlet fever, as we had found to our vexation—although I doubt if we felt it as much as Mamie did. She, by the way, had actually liked scenery and had told Mrs. Vernon that the distant old mountain peak was company for her while she was washing dishes. But a purple peak would not take the place of the yellow lights of a great city to Minerva and I looked forward to varied11 experiences, although I said nothing about my expectations to Ethel.
I half expected Minerva to back out when it came to going, but she did not. Possibly the excitement of going on the cars had something to do with her fortitude12. Possibly the diversion that “Miss Pussy” afforded made her forget that she was leaving her beloved city.
The cat was a startler and no mistake. While the train was in motion she kept quiet, but whenever we stopped at a station she let forth13 ear splitting shrieks14, acting15 exactly as if she were being tortured. More than one non-smoking man sought refuge in the smoker16 and many were the black looks cast at Minerva.
I was glad that she sat behind us, for I did not wish to be mixed up in the affair. As for her she shrieked17 with laughter every time that the cat shrieked with dismay, and I felt that the cat, though unpleasant, was really making our journey easier, as it kept Minerva from dwelling18 upon her exile.
We took a branch road at Springfield and a half hour later we were in a wagon19, climbing the steep ascent20 that leads to Clover Lodge.
The cat, sniffing21 fresh air and longing22 to be at liberty, redoubled its howls, but Minerva no longer laughed. She looked at the distant hills in an awed24 sort of way and sighed.
I sat with the driver, and Mrs. Vernon told Minerva interesting bits about the locality through which we were passing, but a languid “Yas’m” was the only reply she vouchsafed25. She was fast falling a prey26 to nostalgia27.
Upon our arrival at Clover Lodge there was enough to do to keep every one busy. The frantic28 cat was set free as soon as we arrived and she scudded29 under the house and we saw no more of her for some time. I did not think much of it at the moment, but when after our somewhat picnic dinner I heard Minerva at the back of the house calling in heart breaking tones “Miss Pussy, Miss Pussy, woan’ you come out? Come ou—t,” I realized that I should have chained the cat in the kitchen. It might stay away for a day or two in order to express its contempt for people who could subject it to such humiliation30.
I was enjoying a smoke and Ethel was lying down. Oh, what a blessed relief this was from the noise and odours and bustle31 of the city!
“I can’t get out. Mist. Vernon! Mist. Vernon! I can’t get out. Ow.”
The sounds seemed to come from under the kitchen. I side-tracked my peaceful thoughts, laid my cigar on the railing of the piazza32 and ran around to the kitchen door and beheld33 Minerva wedged fast under the house. Clover Lodge has a very diminutive34 cellar which does not extend as far as the kitchen. There is a space of some two feet between the kitchen floor and the ground, used as a receptacle for various odds35 and ends in the way of boxes, clothes poles and the like, and our stout36 Minerva had attempted to creep under there in order to get Miss Pussy, whose tell-tale eyes gleamed at her from the darkness. She had failed to take into account the fact that her head could go where her body could not follow and she had become stuck.
“It’s all right, Minerva. I’ll get you out. There’s very little room for promenading37 there. I’ll have to knock a board out. I’ll get an axe38.”
She kept up her groaning39 and at last Ethel was aroused by it, and, somewhat alarmed, hurried into the kitchen and saw the sprawling41 figure of Minerva with Clover Lodge on her back. The spectacle appealed to her sense of humour and she retreated to where she could laugh.
I had a somewhat ticklish42 job to get Minerva out unhurt. It was awkward splitting the board without touching43 her, but I compassed it at last, although each stroke of the axe was followed by a groan40 from Minerva, a spit from the cat and a suppressed laugh from Ethel, who was viewing the proceedings44 from a little distance.
When the board fell away and had been removed, Minerva, like an alligator45, crawled in a little farther, so as to turn around, and then she crawled out face foremost, leaving Miss Pussy saying most ungenerous things there in the dusk.
“The cat will come out in a while, Minerva,” said I. “Are you hurt?”
Minerva was sitting on the ground, listening intently.
“What’s dem noises?” said she; “Oh, dis ain’ no place for me. Heah dem moanin’s in de grass.”
“Dem moanin’s in de grass” were bull frogs in a little pond not far away, but I dare say she pictured the meadows as full of people who had been enticed46 from the city and were now expiring under the evening sky, far from their friends.
I explained what the noise was and she returned to the kitchen, while I resumed consumption of my cigar and Ethel returned to her room, but in a few minutes:
“Mis. Vernon. Mis. Vernon. Ain’t there no more lights?”
Ethel had dropped asleep, so I went out into the kitchen. Minerva had lighted two lamps, and to me the kitchen looked like a ball room, it was so light, but the dusky maid from the Metropolis47 was seeing New York in her mind’s eye, and two kerosene48 lamps did not take the place of the firmament49 of gas and electric lights to which she had been used all her life.
“It is the first night and I will humour her,” thought I, and so I brought out a lamp from the parlour and another from the sitting room. I had the light from my cigar and needed no other.
When all four lamps had united to cast their radiance upon the kitchen Minerva was satisfied and thanked me in a die-a-way tone that, being interpreted, meant “Give me back New York with its crowds, and its noise and its glitter and its entertaining ‘gentlemen’ and its ice cream and soda50.” Poor Minerva! Our joy and happiness came from the very things that were the abomination of desolation to her.
Meanwhile Ethel awoke from her nap and came down stairs. “Mercy, how dark it is. Why didn’t you light a lamp? Where are you, Philip?”
“I’m out on the piazza. Come out?”
“No, dear, I want to finish that story of Mrs. Everard Cotes’. I’m fascinated with it.”
“Ethel, come here,” said I, in a tone full of meaning.
She felt her way out.
“Minerva needed the gleam of many lights in the kitchen and I’ve plucked a lamp from every room. You’ll tire your eyes reading. Come and sit with me.”
Ethel gave a little chuckle51 and sat down in the chair I provided.
“Dear, it will end by our becoming her slaves.”
“Anything to keep her,” said I. “Who wants a light but the great light of stars. I suppose that to-night on all this broad continent there is no soul so wretched as poor Minerva, deprived of her elevator man and the girl across the hall—and all, that we may live in comfort. Who are we, Ethel, that we should do this thing?”
“Oh, stop your nonsense. Minerva will be all right when the sun shines.”
The light from the kitchen window shone away down the hill and lighted up the pool in which the bull frogs were “moaning.” Above their chorus we heard a wail52.
“What’s that, an owl23?”
“No, Ethel, that’s a howl. It’s Minerva again.”
We could now distinguish “So dismal!”
“You go and hold her in your lap and rock her to sleep. I can’t,” said I.
Ethel sighed herself. It was becoming monotonous53. She rose and went into the kitchen, feeling her way cautiously through the dark sitting room, yet stumbling over a foot stool.
It looked to me as if we would be forced to take turns sitting outside of Minerva’s bedroom door, guarding her against the horrors of a country night, but after a time Ethel returned to me and told me that “Miss Pussy” had come in for dinner and that Minerva was perfectly54 happy and was going to take her to bed with her.
Soon after that she retired55, and, being tired out with the labours and tribulations56 of the day, she slept like a log all night, and we were enabled to enjoy our repose57 undisturbed.
I rose early next morning and sang gaily58, and I sang with a purpose. It might disturb Mrs. Vernon’s last nap, but it could not fail to make Minerva realize that she was not alone in the country, whereas if she had risen first and had seen nothing in the world but the great silent mountain she might have fled incontinently to the city.
When she came down to the kitchen, carrying the cat in her arms, I had already started the fire.
“Good morning, Minerva,” said I. “I haven’t built a kitchen fire since I was a small boy, and I wanted to see if I could do it. Excellent draught59. Did you sleep well?”
“Yas’r.”
The laconic60 answer was in itself a symptom that she felt better.
“And the cat came back?” said I.
“Yas’r.”
I left the kitchen and took a walk in the cool morning air. All was well with the world. Minerva had slept and had learned that a night in the country was not fatal and Miss Pussy had recovered her equanimity61. I sought for an appetite in the pine woods, and I found one.
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1
lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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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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extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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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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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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pussy
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| n.(儿语)小猫，猫咪 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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8
solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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9
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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10
cordon
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| n.警戒线，哨兵线 | |
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11
varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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fortitude
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| n.坚忍不拔；刚毅 | |
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13
forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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15
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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16
smoker
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| n.吸烟者，吸烟车厢，吸烟室 | |
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shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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18
dwelling
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| n.住宅，住所，寓所 | |
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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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20
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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21
sniffing
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| n.探查法v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的现在分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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owl
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| n.猫头鹰，枭 | |
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24
awed
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| adj.充满敬畏的，表示敬畏的v.使敬畏，使惊惧( awe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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25
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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26
prey
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| n.被掠食者，牺牲者，掠食；v.捕食，掠夺，折磨 | |
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nostalgia
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| n.怀乡病，留恋过去，怀旧 | |
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frantic
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| adj.狂乱的，错乱的，激昂的 | |
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scudded
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| v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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humiliation
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| n.羞辱 | |
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31
bustle
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| v.喧扰地忙乱，匆忙，奔忙；n.忙碌；喧闹 | |
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32
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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33
beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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diminutive
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| adj.小巧可爱的，小的 | |
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odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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promenading
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| v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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38
axe
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| n.斧子；v.用斧头砍，削减 | |
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39
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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40
groan
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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41
sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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42
ticklish
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| adj.怕痒的；问题棘手的；adv.怕痒地；n.怕痒，小心处理 | |
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43
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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44
proceedings
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| n.进程，过程，议程；诉讼(程序)；公报 | |
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45
alligator
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| n.短吻鳄(一种鳄鱼) | |
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46
enticed
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| 诱惑，怂恿( entice的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
metropolis
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| n.首府；大城市 | |
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48
kerosene
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| n.(kerosine)煤油，火油 | |
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49
firmament
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| n.苍穹；最高层 | |
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50
soda
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| n.苏打水；汽水 | |
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51
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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52
wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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53
monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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54
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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55
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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56
tribulations
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| n.苦难( tribulation的名词复数 )；艰难；苦难的缘由；痛苦 | |
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57
repose
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| v.(使)休息；n.安息 | |
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58
gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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59
draught
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| n.拉，牵引，拖；一网（饮，吸，阵)；顿服药量，通风；v.起草，设计 | |
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60
laconic
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| adj.简洁的；精练的 | |
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61
equanimity
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| n.沉着，镇定 | |
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