"Oh, hear us when we cry to Thee
Rilla's voice always failed her; for with the words came a horribly vivid mind picture of a submarined ship sinking beneath pitiless waves amid the struggles and cries of drowning men. Then word came that Kenneth's regiment had arrived safely in England; and now, at last, here was his letter. It began with something that made Rilla supremely6 happy for the moment and ended with a paragraph that crimsoned7 her cheeks with the wonder and thrill and delight of it. Between beginning and ending the letter was just such a jolly, newsy epistle as Ken3 might have written to anyone; but for the sake of that beginning and ending Rilla slept with the letter under her pillow for weeks, sometimes waking in the night to slip her fingers under and just touch it, and looked with secret pity on other girls whose sweethearts could never have written them anything half so wonderful and exquisite9. Kenneth was not the son of a famous novelist for nothing. He "had a way" of expressing things in a few poignant10, significant words that seemed to suggest far more than they uttered, and never grew stale or flat or foolish with ever so many scores of readings. Rilla went home from Rainbow Valley as if she flew rather than walked.
But such moments of uplift were rare that autumn. To be sure, there was one day in September when great news came of a big Allied11 victory in the west and Susan ran out to hoist12 the flag—the first time she had hoisted13 it since the Russian line broke and the last time she was to hoist it for many dismal14 moons.
"Likely the Big Push has begun at last, Mrs. Dr. dear," she exclaimed, "and we will soon see the finish of the Huns. Our boys will be home by Christmas now. Hurrah15!"
Susan was ashamed of herself for hurrahing16 the minute she had done it, and apologized meekly18 for such an outburst of juvenility19. "But indeed, Mrs. Dr. dear, this good news has gone to my head after this awful summer of Russian slumps21 and Gallipoli setbacks."
"Good news!" said Miss Oliver bitterly. "I wonder if the women whose men have been killed for it will call it good news. Just because our own men are not on that part of the front we are rejoicing as if the victory had cost no lives."
"Now, Miss Oliver dear, do not take that view of it," deprecated Susan. "We have not had much to rejoice over of late and yet men were being killed just the same. Do not let yourself slump20 like poor Cousin Sophia. She said, when the word came, 'Ah, it is nothing but a rift22 in the clouds. We are up this week but we will be down the next.' 'Well, Sophia Crawford,' said I,—for I will never give in to her, Mrs. Dr. dear—'God himself cannot make two hills without a hollow between them, as I have heard it said, but that is no reason why we should not take the good of the hills when we are on them.' But Cousin Sophia moaned on. 'Here is the Gallipolly expedition a failure and the Grand Duke Nicholas sent off, and everyone knows the Czar of Rooshia is a pro-German and the Allies have no ammunition24 and Bulgaria is going against us. And the end is not yet, for England and France must be punished for their deadly sins until they repent25 in sackcloth and ashes.' 'I think myself,' I said, 'that they will do their repenting26 in khaki and trench27 mud, and it seems to me that the Huns should have a few sins to repent of also.' 'They are instruments in the hands of the Almighty28, to purge29 the garner,' said Sophia. And then I got mad, Mrs. Dr. dear, and told her I did not and never would believe that the Almighty ever took such dirty instruments in hand for any purpose whatever, and that I did not consider it decent for her to be using the words of Holy Writ8 as glibly30 as she was doing in ordinary conversation. She was not, I told her, a minister or even an elder. And for the time being I squelched31 her, Mrs. Dr. dear. Cousin Sophia has no spirit. She is very different from her niece, Mrs. Dean Crawford over-harbour. You know the Dean Crawfords had five boys and now the new baby is another boy. All the connection and especially Dean Crawford were much disappointed because their hearts had been set on a girl; but Mrs. Dean just laughed and said, 'Everywhere I went this summer I saw the sign "MEN WANTED" staring me in the face. Do you think I could go and have a girl under such circumstances?' There is spirit for you, Mrs. Dr. dear. But Cousin Sophia would say the child was just so much more cannon32 fodder33."
Cousin Sophia had full range for her pessimism34 that gloomy autumn, and even Susan, incorrigible35 old optimist36 as she was, was hard put to it for cheer. When Bulgaria lined up with Germany Susan only remarked scornfully, "One more nation anxious for a licking," but the Greek tangle37 worried her beyond her powers of philosophy to endure calmly.
"Constantine of Greece has a German wife, Mrs. Dr. dear, and that fact squelches38 hope. To think that I should have lived to care what kind of a wife Constantine of Greece had! The miserable39 creature is under his wife's thumb and that is a bad place for any man to be. I am an old maid and an old maid has to be independent or she will be squashed out. But if I had been a married woman, Mrs. Dr. dear, I would have been meek17 and humble40. It is my opinion that this Sophia of Greece is a minx."
Susan was furious when the news came that Venizelos had met with defeat. "I could spank41 Constantine and skin him alive afterwards, that I could," she exclaimed bitterly.
"Oh, Susan, I'm surprised at you," said the doctor, pulling a long face. "Have you no regard for the proprieties42? Skin him alive by all means but omit the spanking43."
"If he had been well spanked44 in his younger days he might have more sense now," retorted Susan. "But I suppose princes are never spanked, more is the pity. I see the Allies have sent him an ultimatum45. I could tell them that it will take more than ultimatums46 to skin a snake like Constantine. Perhaps the Allied blockade will hammer sense into his head; but that will take some time I am thinking, and in the meantime what is to become of poor Serbia?"
They saw what became of Serbia, and during the process Susan was hardly to be lived with. In her exasperation47 she abused everything and everybody except Kitchener, and she fell upon poor President Wilson tooth and claw.
"If he had done his duty and gone into the war long ago we should not have seen this mess in Serbia," she avowed48.
"It would be a serious thing to plunge51 a great country like the United States, with its mixed population, into the war, Susan," said the doctor, who sometimes came to the defence of the President, not because he thought Wilson needed it especially, but from an unholy love of baiting Susan.
"Maybe, doctor dear—maybe! But that makes me think of the old story of the girl who told her grandmother she was going to be married. 'It is a solemn thing to be married,' said the old lady. 'Yes, but it is a solemner thing not to be,' said the girl. And I can testify to that out of my own experience, doctor dear. And I think it is a solemner thing for the Yankees that they have kept out of the war than it would have been if they had gone into it. However, though I do not know much about them, I am of the opinion that we will see them starting something yet, Woodrow Wilson or no Woodrow Wilson, when they get it into their heads that this war is not a correspondence school. They will not," said Susan, energetically waving a saucepan with one hand and a soup ladle with the other, "be too proud to fight then."
On a pale-yellow, windy evening in October Carl Meredith went away. He had enlisted53 on his eighteenth birthday. John Meredith saw him off with a set face. His two boys were gone—there was only little Bruce left now. He loved Bruce and Bruce's mother dearly; but Jerry and Carl were the sons of the bride of his youth and Carl was the only one of all his children who had Cecilia's very eyes. As they looked lovingly out at him above Carl's uniform the pale minister suddenly remembered the day when for the first and last time he had tried to whip Carl for his prank54 with the eel55. That was the first time he had realised how much Carl's eyes were like Cecilia's. Now he realised it again once more. Would he ever again see his dead wife's eyes looking at him from his son's face? What a bonny, clean, handsome lad he was! It was—hard—to see him go. John Meredith seemed to be looking at a torn plain strewed56 with the bodies of "able-bodied men between the ages of eighteen and forty-five." Only the other day Carl had been a little scrap57 of a boy, hunting bugs58 in Rainbow Valley, taking lizards59 to bed with him, and scandalizing the Glen by carrying frogs to Sunday School. It seemed hardly—right—somehow that he should be an "able-bodied man" in khaki. Yet John Meredith had said no word to dissuade60 him when Carl had told him he must go.
Rilla felt Carl's going keenly. They had always been cronies and playmates. He was only a little older than she was and they had been children in Rainbow Valley together. She recalled all their old pranks61 and escapades as she walked slowly home alone. The full moon peeped through the scudding62 clouds with sudden floods of weird63 illumination, the telephone wires sang a shrill64 weird song in the wind, and the tall spikes65 of withered66, grey-headed golden-rod in the fence corners swayed and beckoned67 wildly to her like groups of old witches weaving unholy spells. On such a night as this, long ago, Carl would come over to Ingleside and whistle her out to the gate. "Let's go on a moon-spree, Rilla," he would say, and the two of them would scamper68 off to Rainbow Valley. Rilla had never been afraid of his beetles69 and bugs, though she drew a hard and fast line at snakes. They used to talk together of almost everything and were teased about each other at school; but one evening when they were about ten years of age they had solemnly promised, by the old spring in Rainbow Valley, that they would never marry each other. Alice Clow had "crossed out" their names on her slate70 in school that day, and it came out that "both married." They did not like the idea at all, hence the mutual71 vow49 in Rainbow Valley. There was nothing like an ounce of prevention. Rilla laughed over the old memory—and then sighed. That very day a dispatch from some London paper had contained the cheerful announcement that "the present moment is the darkest since the war began." It was dark enough, and Rilla wished desperately72 that she could do something besides waiting and serving at home, as day after day the Glen boys she had known went away. If she were only a boy, speeding in khaki by Carl's side to the Western front! She had wished that in a burst of romance when Jem had gone, without, perhaps, really meaning it. She meant it now. There were moments when waiting at home, in safety and comfort, seemed an unendurable thing.
The moon burst triumphantly73 through an especially dark cloud and shadow and silver chased each other in waves over the Glen. Rilla remembered one moonlit evening of childhood when she had said to her mother, "The moon just looks like a sorry, sorry face." She thought it looked like that still—an agonised, care-worn face, as though it looked down on dreadful sights. What did it see on the Western front? In broken Serbia? On shell-swept Gallipoli?
"I am tired," Miss Oliver had said that day, in a rare outburst of impatience75, "of this horrible rack of strained emotions, when every day brings a new horror or the dread74 of it. No, don't look reproachfully at me, Mrs. Blythe. There's nothing heroic about me today. I've slumped76. I wish England had left Belgium to her fate—I wish Canada had never sent a man—I wish we'd tied our boys to our apron77 strings78 and not let one of them go. Oh—I shall be ashamed of myself in half an hour—but at this very minute I mean every word of it. Will the Allies never strike?"
"While the steeds of Armageddon thunder, trampling80 over our hearts," retorted Miss Oliver. "Susan, tell me—don't you ever—didn't you ever—take spells of feeling that you must scream—or swear—or smash something—just because your torture reaches a point when it becomes unbearable81?"
"I have never sworn or desired to swear, Miss Oliver dear, but I will admit," said Susan, with the air of one determined82 to make a clean breast of it once and for all, "that I have experienced occasions when it was a relief to do considerable banging."
"Don't you think that is a kind of swearing, Susan? What is the difference between slamming a door viciously and saying d——"
"Miss Oliver dear," interrupted Susan, desperately determined to save Gertrude from herself, if human power could do it, "you are all tired out and unstrung—and no wonder, teaching those obstreperous83 youngsters all day and coming home to bad war news. But just you go upstairs and lie down and I will bring you up a cup of hot tea and a bite of toast and very soon you will not want to slam doors or swear."
"Susan, you're a good soul—a very pearl of Susans! But, Susan, it would be such a relief—to say just one soft, low, little tiny d—-"
"I will bring you a hot-water bottle for the soles of your feet, also," interposed Susan resolutely84, "and it would not be any relief to say that word you are thinking of, Miss Oliver, and that you may tie to."
"Well, I'll try the hot-water bottle first," said Miss Oliver, repenting herself on teasing Susan and vanishing upstairs, to Susan's intense relief. Susan shook her head ominously85 as she filled the hot-water bottle. The war was certainly relaxing the standards of behaviour woefully. Here was Miss Oliver admittedly on the point of profanity.
"We must draw the blood from her brain," said Susan, "and if this bottle is not effective I will see what can be done with a mustard plaster."
Gertrude rallied and carried on. Lord Kitchener went to Greece, whereat Susan foretold86 that Constantine would soon experience a change of heart. Lloyd George began to heckle the Allies regarding equipment and guns and Susan said you would hear more of Lloyd George yet. The gallant87 Anzacs withdrew from Gallipoli and Susan approved the step, with reservations. The siege of Kut-El-Amara began and Susan pored over maps of Mesopotamia and abused the Turks. Henry Ford23 started for Europe and Susan flayed88 him with sarcasm89. Sir John French was superseded90 by Sir Douglas Haig and Susan dubiously91 opined that it was poor policy to swap92 horses crossing a stream, "though, to be sure, Haig was a good name and French had a foreign sound, say what you might." Not a move on the great chess-board of king or bishop93 or pawn94 escaped Susan, who had once read only Glen St. Mary notes. "There was a time," she said sorrowfully, "when I did not care what happened outside of P.E. Island, and now a king cannot have a toothache in Russia or China but it worries me. It may be broadening to the mind, as the doctor said, but it is very painful to the feelings."
When Christmas came again Susan did not set any vacant places at the festive95 board. Two empty chairs were too much even for Susan who had thought in September that there would not be one.
"This is the first Christmas that Walter was not home," Rilla wrote in her diary that night. "Jem used to be away for Christmases up in Avonlea, but Walter never was. I had letters from Ken and him today. They are still in England but expect to be in the trenches96 very soon. And then—but I suppose we'll be able to endure it somehow. To me, the strangest of all the strange things since 1914 is how we have all learned to accept things we never thought we could—to go on with life as a matter of course. I know that Jem and Jerry are in the trenches—that Ken and Walter will be soon—that if one of them does not come back my heart will break—yet I go on and work and plan—yes, and even enjoy life by times. There are moments when we have real fun because, just for the moment, we don't think about things and then—we remember—and the remembering is worse than thinking of it all the time would have been.
"Today was dark and cloudy and tonight is wild enough, as Gertrude says, to please any novelist in search of suitable matter for a murder or elopement. The raindrops streaming over the panes97 look like tears running down a face, and the wind is shrieking98 through the maple99 grove100.
"This hasn't been a nice Christmas Day in any way. Nan had toothache and Susan had red eyes, and assumed a weird and gruesome flippancy101 of manner to deceive us into thinking she hadn't; and Jims had a bad cold all day and I'm afraid of croup. He has had croup twice since October. The first time I was nearly frightened to death, for father and mother were both away—father always is away, it seems to me, when any of this household gets sick. But Susan was cool as a fish and knew just what to do, and by morning Jims was all right. That child is a cross between a duck and an imp2. He's a year and four months old, trots102 about everywhere, and says quite a few words. He has the cutest little way of calling me "Willa-will." It always brings back that dreadful, ridiculous, delightful103 night when Ken came to say good-bye, and I was so furious and happy. Jims is pink and white and big-eyed and curly-haired and every now and then I discover a new dimple in him. I can never quite believe he is really the same creature as that scrawny, yellow, ugly little changeling I brought home in the soup tureen. Nobody has ever heard a word from Jim Anderson. If he never comes back I shall keep Jims always. Everybody here worships and spoils him—or would spoil him if Morgan and I didn't stand remorselessly in the way. Susan says Jims is the cleverest child she ever saw and can recognize Old Nick when he sees him—this because Jims threw poor Doc out of an upstairs window one day. Doc turned into Mr. Hyde on his way down and landed in a currant bush, spitting and swearing. I tried to console his inner cat with a saucer of milk but he would have none of it, and remained Mr. Hyde the rest of the day. Jims's latest exploit was to paint the cushion of the big arm-chair in the sun parlour with molasses; and before anybody found it out Mrs. Fred Clow came in on Red Cross business and sat down on it. Her new silk dress was ruined and nobody could blame her for being vexed104. But she went into one of her tempers and said nasty things and gave me such slams about 'spoiling' Jims that I nearly boiled over, too. But I kept the lid on till she had waddled105 away and then I exploded.
"'She has three sons at the front,' mother said rebukingly107.
"'I suppose that covers all her shortcomings in manners,' I retorted. But I was ashamed—for it is true that all her boys have gone and she was very plucky108 and loyal about it too; and she is a perfect tower of strength in the Red Cross. It's a little hard to remember all the heroines. Just the same, it was her second new silk dress in one year and that when everybody is—or should be—trying to 'save and serve.'
"I had to bring out my green velvet109 hat again lately and begin wearing it. I hung on to my blue straw sailor as long as I could. How I hate the green velvet hat! It is so elaborate and conspicuous110. I don't see how I could ever have liked it. But I vowed50 to wear it and wear it I will.
"Shirley and I went down to the station this morning to take Little Dog Monday a bang-up Christmas dinner. Dog Monday waits and watches there still, with just as much hope and confidence as ever. Sometimes he hangs around the station house and talks to people and the rest of his time he sits at his little kennel111 door and watches the track unwinkingly. We never try to coax112 him home now: we know it is of no use. When Jem comes back, Monday will come home with him; and if Jem—never comes back—Monday will wait there for him as long as his dear dog heart goes on beating.
"Fred Arnold was here last night. He was eighteen in November and is going to enlist52 just as soon as his mother is over an operation she has to have. He has been coming here very often lately and though I like him so much it makes me uncomfortable, because I am afraid he is thinking that perhaps I could care something for him. I can't tell him about Ken—because, after all, what is there to tell? And yet I don't like to behave coldly and distantly when he will be going away so soon. It is very perplexing. I remember I used to think it would be such fun to have dozens of beaux—and now I'm worried to death because two are too many.
"I am learning to cook. Susan is teaching me. I tried to learn long ago—but no, let me be honest—Susan tried to teach me, which is a very different thing. I never seemed to succeed with anything and I got discouraged. But since the boys have gone away I wanted to be able to make cake and things for them myself and so I started in again and this time I'm getting on surprisingly well. Susan says it is all in the way I hold my mouth and father says my subconscious113 mind is desirous of learning now, and I dare say they're both right. Anyhow, I can make dandy short-bread and fruitcake. I got ambitious last week and attempted cream puffs114, but made an awful failure of them. They came out of the oven flat as flukes. I thought maybe the cream would fill them up again and make them plump but it didn't. I think Susan was secretly pleased. She is past mistress in the art of making cream puffs and it would break her heart if anyone else here could make them as well. I wonder if Susan tampered—but no, I won't suspect her of such a thing.
"Miranda Pryor spent an afternoon here a few days ago, helping115 me cut out certain Red Cross garments known by the charming name of 'vermin shirts.' Susan thinks that name is not quite decent, so I suggested she call them 'cootie sarks,' which is old Highland116 Sandy's version of it. But she shook her head and I heard her telling mother later that, in her opinion, 'cooties' and 'sarks' were not proper subjects for young girls to talk about. She was especially horrified117 when Jem wrote in his last letter to mother, 'Tell Susan I had a fine cootie hunt this morning and caught fifty-three!' Susan positively118 turned pea-green. 'Mrs. Dr. dear,' she said, 'when I was young, if decent people were so unfortunate as to get—those insects—they kept it a secret if possible. I do not want to be narrow-minded, Mrs. Dr. dear, but I still think it is better not to mention such things.'
"Miranda grew confidential119 over our vermin shirts and told me all her troubles. She is desperately unhappy. She is engaged to Joe Milgrave and Joe joined up in October and has been training in Charlottetown ever since. Her father was furious when he joined and forbade Miranda ever to have any dealing120 or communication with him again. Poor Joe expects to go overseas any day and wants Miranda to marry him before he goes, which shows that there have been 'communications' in spite of Whiskers-on-the-moon. Miranda wants to marry him but cannot, and she declares it will break her heart.
"'Why don't you run away and marry him?' I said. It didn't go against my conscience in the least to give her such advice. Joe Milgrave is a splendid fellow and Mr. Pryor fairly beamed on him until the war broke out and I know Mr. Pryor would forgive Miranda very quickly, once it was over and he wanted his housekeeper121 back. But Miranda shook her silvery head dolefully.
"'Joe wants me to but I can't. Mother's last words to me, as she lay on her dying-bed, were, "Never, never run away, Miranda," and I promised.'
"Miranda's mother died two years ago, and it seems, according to Miranda, that her mother and father actually ran away to be married themselves. To picture Whiskers-on-the-moon as the hero of an elopement is beyond my power. But such was the case and Mrs. Pryor at least lived to repent it. She had a hard life of it with Mr. Pryor, and she thought it was a punishment on her for running away. So she made Miranda promise she would never, for any reason whatever, do it.
"Of course, you cannot urge a girl to break a promise made to a dying mother, so I did not see what Miranda could do unless she got Joe to come to the house when her father was away and marry her there. But Miranda said that couldn't be managed. Her father seemed to suspect she might be up to something of the sort and he never went away for long at a time, and, of course, Joe couldn't get leave of absence at an hour's notice.
"'No, I shall just have to let Joe go, and he will be killed—I know he will be killed—and my heart will break,' said Miranda, her tears running down and copiously122 bedewing the vermin shirts!
"I am not writing like this for lack of any real sympathy with poor Miranda. I've just got into the habit of giving things a comical twist if I can, when I'm writing to Jem and Walter and Ken, to make them laugh. I really felt sorry for Miranda who is as much in love with Joe as a china-blue girl can be with anyone and who is dreadfully ashamed of her father's pro-German sentiments. I think she understood that I did, for she said she had wanted to tell me all about her worries because I had grown so sympathetic this past year. I wonder if I have. I know I used to be a selfish, thoughtless creature—how selfish and thoughtless I am ashamed to remember now, so I can't be quite so bad as I was.
"I wish I could help Miranda. It would be very romantic to contrive123 a war-wedding and I should dearly love to get the better of Whiskers-on-the-moon. But at present the oracle124 has not spoken."
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blase
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| adj.厌烦于享乐的 | |
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imp
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ken
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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supremely
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crimsoned
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writ
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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poignant
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allied
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hoist
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| n.升高，起重机，推动；v.升起，升高，举起 | |
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hoisted
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dismal
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hurrah
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hurrahing
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| v.好哇( hurrah的现在分词 ) | |
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meek
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meekly
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juvenility
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slump
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| n.暴跌，意气消沉，（土地）下沉；vi.猛然掉落，坍塌，大幅度下跌 | |
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slumps
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Ford
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ammunition
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repent
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repenting
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trench
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almighty
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purge
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| n.整肃，清除，泻药，净化；vt.净化，清除，摆脱；vi.清除，通便，腹泻，变得清洁 | |
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squelched
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的过去式和过去分词 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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32
cannon
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| n.大炮，火炮；飞机上的机关炮 | |
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33
fodder
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| n.草料；炮灰 | |
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34
pessimism
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| n.悲观者，悲观主义者，厌世者 | |
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35
incorrigible
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| adj.难以纠正的，屡教不改的 | |
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36
optimist
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| n.乐观的人，乐观主义者 | |
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37
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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38
squelches
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| v.发吧唧声，发扑哧声( squelch的第三人称单数 )；制止；压制；遏制 | |
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39
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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40
humble
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| adj.谦卑的，恭顺的；地位低下的；v.降低，贬低 | |
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41
spank
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| v.打，拍打(在屁股上) | |
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42
proprieties
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| n.礼仪，礼节；礼貌( propriety的名词复数 )；规矩；正当；合适 | |
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43
spanking
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| adj.强烈的，疾行的；n.打屁股 | |
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44
spanked
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| v.用手掌打( spank的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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45
ultimatum
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| n.最后通牒 | |
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46
ultimatums
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| 最后通牒( ultimatum的名词复数 ) | |
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47
exasperation
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| n.愤慨 | |
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48
avowed
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| adj.公开声明的，承认的v.公开声明，承认( avow的过去式和过去分词) | |
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49
vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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50
vowed
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| 起誓，发誓（vow的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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51
plunge
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| v.跳入，(使)投入，(使)陷入；猛冲 | |
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52
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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53
enlisted
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| adj.应募入伍的v.（使）入伍， （使）参军( enlist的过去式和过去分词 )；获得（帮助或支持） | |
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54
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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55
eel
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| n.鳗鲡 | |
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56
strewed
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| v.撒在…上( strew的过去式和过去分词 )；散落于；点缀；撒满 | |
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57
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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58
bugs
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| adj.疯狂的，发疯的n.窃听器( bug的名词复数 )；病菌；虫子；[计算机]（制作软件程序所产生的意料不到的）错误 | |
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59
lizards
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| n.蜥蜴( lizard的名词复数 ) | |
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60
dissuade
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| v.劝阻，阻止 | |
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61
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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62
scudding
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| n.刮面v.（尤指船、舰或云彩）笔直、高速而平稳地移动( scud的现在分词 ) | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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withered
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| adj. 枯萎的，干瘪的，（人身体的部分器官）因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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67
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68
scamper
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| v.奔跑，快跑 | |
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69
beetles
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| n.甲虫( beetle的名词复数 ) | |
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70
slate
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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71
mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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74
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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75
impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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76
slumped
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| 大幅度下降，暴跌( slump的过去式和过去分词 )； 沉重或突然地落下[倒下] | |
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77
apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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78
strings
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| n.弦 | |
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79
mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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80
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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81
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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82
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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83
obstreperous
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| adj.喧闹的，不守秩序的 | |
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84
resolutely
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| adj.坚决地，果断地 | |
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85
ominously
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| adv.恶兆地，不吉利地；预示地 | |
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86
foretold
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| v.预言，预示( foretell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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87
gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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88
flayed
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| v.痛打( flay的过去式和过去分词 )；把…打得皮开肉绽；剥（通常指动物）的皮；严厉批评 | |
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89
sarcasm
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| n.讥讽，讽刺，嘲弄，反话 （adj.sarcastic） | |
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90
superseded
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| [医]被代替的，废弃的 | |
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91
dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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92
swap
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| n.交换；vt.交换，用...作交易 | |
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93
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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94
pawn
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| n.典当，抵押，小人物，走卒；v.典当，抵押 | |
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95
festive
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| adj.欢宴的，节日的 | |
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96
trenches
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| 深沟，地沟( trench的名词复数 )； 战壕 | |
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panes
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| 窗玻璃( pane的名词复数 ) | |
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98
shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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99
maple
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| n.槭树，枫树，槭木 | |
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100
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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101
flippancy
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| n.轻率；浮躁；无礼的行动 | |
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102
trots
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| 小跑，急走( trot的名词复数 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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103
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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104
vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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105
waddled
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| v.（像鸭子一样）摇摇摆摆地走( waddle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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106
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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107
rebukingly
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108
plucky
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| adj.勇敢的 | |
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109
velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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110
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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111
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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112
coax
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| v.哄诱，劝诱，用诱哄得到，诱取 | |
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113
subconscious
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| n./adj.潜意识(的)，下意识(的) | |
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114
puffs
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| n.吸( puff的名词复数 )；（烟斗或香烟的）一吸；一缕（烟、蒸汽等）；（呼吸或风的）呼v.使喷出( puff的第三人称单数 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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115
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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116
highland
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| n.(pl.)高地，山地 | |
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117
horrified
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| a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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118
positively
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| adv.明确地，断然，坚决地；实在，确实 | |
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119
confidential
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| adj.秘（机）密的，表示信任的，担任机密工作的 | |
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120
dealing
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| n.经商方法，待人态度 | |
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121
housekeeper
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| n.管理家务的主妇，女管家 | |
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122
copiously
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| adv.丰富地，充裕地 | |
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123
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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124
oracle
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| n.神谕，神谕处，预言 | |
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