"It took more courage for you to tackle that five pounds of new infant, Rilla-my-Rilla, than it would be for Jem to face a mile of Germans. I wish I had half your pluck," he said ruefully.
Rilla was very proud of Walter's approval; nevertheless, she wrote gloomily in her diary that night:—
"I wish I could like the baby a little bit. It would make things easier. But I don't. I've heard people say that when you took care of a baby you got fond of it—but you don't—I don't, anyway. And it's a nuisance—it interferes7 with everything. It just ties me down—and now of all times when I'm trying to get the Junior Reds started. And I couldn't go to Alice Clow's party last night and I was just dying to. Of course father isn't really unreasonable8 and I can always get an hour or two off in the evening when it's necessary; but I knew he wouldn't stand for my being out half the night and leaving Susan or mother to see to the baby. I suppose it was just as well, because the thing did take colic—or something—about one o'clock. It didn't kick or stiffen9 out, so I knew that, according to Morgan, it wasn't crying for temper; and it wasn't hungry and no pins were sticking in it. It screamed till it was black in the face; I got up and heated water and put the hot-water bottle on its stomach, and it howled worse than ever and drew up its poor wee thin legs. I was afraid I had burnt it but I don't believe I did. Then I walked the floor with it although 'Morgan on Infants' says that should never be done. I walked miles, and oh, I was so tired and discouraged and mad—yes, I was. I could have shaken the creature if it had been big enough to shake, but it wasn't. Father was out on a case, and mother had had a headache and Susan is squiffy because when she and Morgan differ I insist upon going by what Morgan says, so I was determined10 I wouldn't call her unless I had to.
"Finally, Miss Oliver came in. She has rooms with Nan now, not me, all because of the baby, and I am broken-hearted about it. I miss our long talks after we went to bed, so much. It was the only time I ever had her to myself. I hated to think the baby's yells had wakened her up, for she has so much to bear now. Mr. Grant is at Valcartier, too, and Miss Oliver feels it dreadfully, though she is splendid about it. She thinks he will never come back and her eyes just break my heart—they are so tragic11. She said it wasn't the baby that woke her—she hadn't been able to sleep because the Germans are so near Paris; she took the little wretch12 and laid it flat on its stomach across her knee and thumped13 its back gently a few times, and it stopped shrieking14 and went right off to sleep and slept like a lamb the rest of the night. I didn't—I was too worn out.
"I'm having a perfectly16 dreadful time getting the Junior Reds started. I succeeded in getting Betty Mead17 as president, and I am secretary, but they put Jen Vickers in as treasurer18 and I despise her. She is the sort of girl who calls any clever, handsome, or distinguished19 people she knows slightly by their first names—behind their backs. And she is sly and two-faced. Una doesn't mind, of course. She is willing to do anything that comes to hand and never minds whether she has an office or not. She is just a perfect angel, while I am only angelic in spots and demonic in other spots. I wish Walter would take a fancy to her, but he never seems to think about her in that way, although I heard him say once she was like a tea rose. She is too. And she gets imposed upon, just because she is so sweet and willing; but I don't allow people to impose on Rilla Blythe and 'that you may tie to,' as Susan says.
"Just as I expected, Olive was determined we should have lunch served at our meetings. We had a battle royal over it. The majority was against eats and now the minority is sulking. Irene Howard was on the eats side and she has been very cool to me ever since and it makes me feel miserable20. I wonder if mother and Mrs. Elliott have problems in the Senior Society too. I suppose they have, but they just go on calmly in spite of everything. I go on—but not calmly—I rage and cry—but I do it all in private and blow off steam in this diary; and when it's over I vow21 I'll show them. I never sulk. I detest22 people who sulk. Anyhow, we've got the society started and we're to meet once a week, and we're all going to learn to knit.
"Shirley and I went down to the station again to try to induce Dog Monday to come home but we failed. All the family have tried and failed. Three days after Jem had gone Walter went down and brought Monday home by main force in the buggy and shut him up for three days. Then Monday went on a hunger strike and howled like a Banshee night and day. We had to let him out or he would have starved to death.
"So we have decided23 to let him alone and father has arranged with the butcher near the station to feed him with bones and scraps24. Besides, one of us goes down nearly every day to take him something. He just lies curled up in the shipping-shed, and every time a train comes in he will rush over to the platform, wagging his tail expectantly, and tear around to every one who comes off the train. And then, when the train goes and he realizes that Jem has not come, he creeps dejectedly back to his shed, with his disappointed eyes, and lies down patiently to wait for the next train. Mr. Gray, the station master, says there are times when he can hardly help crying from sheer sympathy. One day some boys threw stones at Monday and old Johnny Mead, who never was known to take notice of anything before, snatched up a meat axe25 in the butcher's shop and chased them through the village. Nobody has molested26 Monday since.
"Kenneth Ford27 has gone back to Toronto. He came up two evenings ago to say good-bye. I wasn't home—some clothes had to be made for the baby and Mrs. Meredith offered to help me, so I was over at the manse, and I didn't see Kenneth. Not that it matters; he told Nan to say good-bye to Spider for him and tell me not to forget him wholly in my absorbing maternal28 duties. If he could leave such a frivolous29, insulting message as that for me it shows plainly that our beautiful hour on the sandshore meant nothing to him and I am not going to think about him or it again.
"Fred Arnold was at the manse and walked home with me. He is the new Methodist minister's son and very nice and clever, and would be quite handsome if it were not for his nose. It is a really dreadful nose. When he talks of commonplace things it does not matter so much, but when he talks of poetry and ideals the contrast between his nose and his conversation is too much for me and I want to shriek15 with laughter. It is really not fair, because everything he said was perfectly charming and if somebody like Kenneth had said it I would have been enraptured30. When I listened to him with my eyes cast down I was quite fascinated; but as soon as I looked up and saw his nose the spell was broken. He wants to enlist31, too, but can't because he is only seventeen. Mrs. Elliott met us as we were walking through the village and could not have looked more horrified32 if she caught me walking with the Kaiser himself. Mrs. Elliott detests33 the Methodists and all their works. Father says it is an obsession34 with her."
About 1st September there was an exodus35 from Ingleside and the manse. Faith, Nan, Di and Walter left for Redmond; Carl betook himself to his Harbour Head school and Shirley was off to Queen's. Rilla was left alone at Ingleside and would have been very lonely if she had had time to be. She missed Walter keenly; since their talk in Rainbow Valley they had grown very near together and Rilla discussed problems with Walter which she never mentioned to others. But she was so busy with the Junior Reds and her baby that there was rarely a spare minute for loneliness; sometimes, after she went to bed, she cried a little in her pillow over Walter's absence and Jem at Valcartier and Kenneth's unromantic farewell message, but she was generally asleep before the tears got fairly started.
"Shall I make arrangements to have the baby sent to Hopetown?" the doctor asked one day two weeks after the baby's arrival at Ingleside.
For a moment Rilla was tempted36 to say "Yes." The baby could be sent to Hopetown—it would be decently looked after—she could have her free days and untrammelled nights back again. But—but—that poor young mother who hadn't wanted it to go to the asylum37! Rilla couldn't get that out of her thoughts. And that very morning she discovered that the baby had gained eight ounces since its coming to Ingleside. Rilla had felt such a thrill of pride over this.
"You—you said it mightn't live if it went to Hopetown," she said.
"It mightn't. Somehow, institutional care, no matter how good it may be, doesn't always succeed with delicate babies. But you know what it means if you want it kept here, Rilla."
"I've taken care of it for a fortnight—and it has gained half a pound," cried Rilla. "I think we'd better wait until we hear from its father anyhow. He mightn't want to have it sent to an orphan38 asylum, when he is fighting the battles of his country."
The doctor and Mrs. Blythe exchanged amused, satisfied smiles behind Rilla's back; and nothing more was said about Hopetown.
Then the smile faded from the doctor's face; the Germans were twenty miles from Paris. Horrible tales were beginning to appear in the papers of deeds done in martyred Belgium. Life was very tense at Ingleside for the older people.
"We eat up the war news," Gertrude Oliver told Mrs. Meredith, trying to laugh and failing. "We study the maps and nip the whole Hun army in a few well-directed strategic moves. But Papa Joffre hasn't the benefit of our advice—and so Paris—must—fall."
"I teach school like one in a dream," continued Gertrude; "then I come home and shut myself in my room and walk the floor. I am wearing a path right across Nan's carpet. We are so horribly near this war."
"Them German men are at Senlis. Nothing nor nobody can save Paris now," wailed40 Cousin Sophia. Cousin Sophia had taken to reading the newspapers and had learned more about the geography of northern France, if not about the pronunciation of French names, in her seventy-first year than she had ever known in her schooldays.
"I have not such a poor opinion of the Almighty41, or of Kitchener," said Susan stubbornly. "I see there is a Bernstoff man in the States who says that the war is over and Germany has won—and they tell me Whiskers-on-the-moon says the same thing and is quite pleased about it, but I could tell them both that it is chancy work counting chickens even the day before they are hatched, and bears have been known to live long after their skins were sold."
"Why ain't the British navy doing more?" persisted Cousin Sophia.
"Even the British navy cannot sail on dry land, Sophia Crawford. I have not given up hope, and I shall not, Tomascow and Mobbage and all such barbarous names to the contrary notwithstanding. Mrs. Dr. dear, can you tell me if R-h-e-i-m-s is Rimes or Reems or Rames or Rems?"
"I believe it's really more like 'Rhangs,' Susan."
"They tell me the Germans has about ruined the church there," sighed Cousin Sophia. "I always thought the Germans was Christians43."
"A church is bad enough but their doings in Belgium are far worse," said Susan grimly. "When I heard the doctor reading about them bayonetting the babies, Mrs. Dr. dear, I just thought, 'Oh, what if it were our little Jem!' I was stirring the soup when that thought came to me and I just felt that if I could have lifted that saucepan full of that boiling soup and thrown it at the Kaiser I would not have lived in vain."
"Tomorrow—tomorrow—will bring the news that the Germans are in Paris," said Gertrude Oliver, through her tense lips. She had one of those souls that are always tied to the stake, burning in the suffering of the world around them. Apart from her own personal interest in the war, she was racked by the thought of Paris falling into the ruthless hands of the hordes44 who had burned Louvain and ruined the wonder of Rheims.
But on the morrow and the next morrow came the news of the miracle of the Marne. Rilla rushed madly home from the office waving the Enterprise with its big red headlines. Susan ran out with trembling hands to hoist45 the flag. The doctor stalked about muttering "Thank God." Mrs. Blythe cried and laughed and cried again.
"God just put out His hand and touched them—'thus far—no farther'," said Mr. Meredith that evening.
Rilla was singing upstairs as she put the baby to bed. Paris was saved—the war was over—Germany had lost—there would soon be an end now—Jem and Jerry would be back. The black clouds had rolled by.
"Don't you dare have colic this joyful46 night," she told the baby. "If you do I'll clap you back into your soup tureen and ship you off to Hopetown—by freight—on the early train. You have got beautiful eyes—and you're not quite as red and wrinkled as you were—but you haven't a speck47 of hair—and your hands are like little claws—and I don't like you a bit better than I ever did. But I hope your poor little white mother knows that you're tucked in a soft basket with a bottle of milk as rich as Morgan allows instead of perishing by inches with old Meg Conover. And I hope she doesn't know that I nearly drowned you that first morning when Susan wasn't there and I let you slip right out of my hands into the water. Why will you be so slippery? No, I don't like you and I never will but for all that I'm going to make a decent, upstanding infant of you. You are going to get as fat as a self-respecting child should be, for one thing. I am not going to have people saying 'what a puny48 little thing that baby of Rilla Blythe's is' as old Mrs. Drew said at the senior Red Cross yesterday. If I can't love you I mean to be proud of you at least."
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skilfully
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| adv. (美skillfully)熟练地 | |
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lizard
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| n.蜥蜴，壁虎 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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jotting
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| n.简短的笔记，略记v.匆忙记下( jot的现在分词 )；草草记下，匆匆记下 | |
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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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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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interferes
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unreasonable
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| adj.不讲道理的，不合情理的，过度的 | |
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stiffen
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| v.(使)硬，(使)变挺，(使)变僵硬 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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thumped
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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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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mead
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treasurer
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| n.司库，财务主管 | |
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distinguished
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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vow
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detest
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| vt.痛恨，憎恶 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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scraps
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axe
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molested
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Ford
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maternal
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| adj.母亲的，母亲般的，母系的，母方的 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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enraptured
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enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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detests
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| v.憎恶，嫌恶，痛恨( detest的第三人称单数 ) | |
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obsession
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exodus
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tempted
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asylum
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| n.避难所，庇护所，避难 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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wailed
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almighty
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| adj.全能的，万能的；很大的，很强的 | |
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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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Christians
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| n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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hoist
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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speck
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| n.微粒，小污点，小斑点 | |
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puny
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| adj.微不足道的，弱小的 | |
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