“Please, boy, I’d like to see my Uncle Joe.”
“Your—Uncle—Joe, little miss?”
“That’s what I said. I must come in. I’m very cold. If this is Baltimore, that the folks on the cars said was pretty, I guess they didn’t know what they were talking about. I want to come in, please.”
[35]The old man found his wits returning. This was the queerest “parcel” for which he had ever signed a receipt in an express-book, and he knew there was some mistake. Yet he couldn’t withstand the pleading brown eyes under the scarlet4 hat, even if he hadn’t been “raised” to a habit of hospitality.
“Suah, little lady. Come right in. ’Tis dreadful cold out to-day. I ’most froze goin’ to market, an’ I’se right down ashamed of myself leavin’ comp’ny waitin’ this way. Step right in the drawin’-room, little missy, and tell me who ’tis you’d like to see.”
Picking up the luggage that had been deposited on the topmost of the gleaming marble steps, which, even in winter, unlike his neighbors, the master of the house disdained5 to hide beneath a wooden casing, the negro led the way into the luxurious6 parlor7. To Josephine, fresh from the chill of the cloudy, windy day without, the whole place seemed aglow8. A rosy9 light came through the red-curtained windows, shone from the open grate, repeated itself in the deep crimson10 carpet that was so delightfully11 soft and warm.
[36]“Sit down by the fire, little lady. There. That’s nice. Put your dolly right here. Maybe she’s cold, too. Now, then, suah you’se fixed12 so fine you can tell me who ’tis you’ve come to see,” said the man.
“What is your name, boy?” inquired Josephine.
“Peter, missy. My name’s Peter.”
“Well, then, Peter, don’t be stupid. Or are you deaf, maybe?” she asked.
“Land, no, missy. I’se got my hearin’ fust class,” he replied, somewhat indignantly.
“I have come to see my Uncle Joe. I wish to see him now. Please tell him,” she commanded.
The negro scratched his gray wool and reflected. He had been born and raised in the service of the family where he still “officiated,” and knew its history thoroughly13. His present master was the only son of an only son, and there had never been a daughter. No, nor wife, at least to this household. There were cousins in plenty, with whom Mr. Joseph Smith was not on good terms. There were[37] property interests dividing them, and Mr. Joseph kept his vast wealth for his own use alone. Some thought he should have shared it with others, but he did not so think and lived his quiet life, with a trio of colored men-servants. His house was one of the best appointed on the wide avenue, but, also, one of the quietest. It was the first time that old Peter had ever heard a child’s voice in that great room, and its clear tones seemed to confuse him.
“I want to see my Uncle Joe. I want to see him right away. Go, boy, and call him,” Josephine explained.
This was command, and Peter was used to obey, so he replied:
“All right, little missy, I’ll go see. Has you got your card? Who shall I say ’tis?”
Josephine reflected. Once mamma had had some dear little visiting cards engraved14 with her small daughter’s name, and the child remembered with regret that if they had been packed with her “things” at all, it must have been in the trunk, which the expressman said[38] would arrive by and by from the railway station. She could merely say:
“Uncles don’t need cards when their folks come to see them. I’ve come from mamma. She’s gone to the pickley land to see papa. Just tell him Josephine. What’s that stuff out there?”
She ran to the window, pulled the lace curtains apart, and peered out. The air was now full of great white flakes15 that whirled and skurried about as if in the wildest sort of play.
“What is it, Peter? Quick, what is it?” she demanded.
“Huh! Don’t you know snow when you see it, little missy? Where you lived at all your born days?” he cried, surprised.
“Oh, just snow. Course I’ve seen it, coming here on the cars. It was on the ground, though, not in the air and the sky. I’ve lived with mamma. Now I’ve come to live with Uncle Joe. Why don’t you tell him? If a lady called to see my mamma do you s’pose big Bridget wouldn’t say so?”
“I’se goin’,” he said, and went.
[39]But he was gone so long, and the expected uncle was so slow to welcome her, that even that beautiful room began to look dismal16 to the little stranger. The violent storm which had sprung up with such suddenness, darkened the air, and a terrible homesickness threatened to bring on a burst of tears. Then, all at once, Josephine remembered what Doctor Mack had said:
“Don’t be a weeper, little lady, whatever else you are. Be a smiler, like my Cousin Helen, your mamma. You’re pretty small to tackle the world alone, but just do it with a laugh and it will laugh back upon you.”
Not all of which she understood, though she recalled every one of the impressive words, but the “laughing part” was plain enough.
“Course, Rudanthy. No Uncle Joe would be glad to get a crying little girl to his house. I’ll take off my coat and yours, darling. You are pretty tired, I guess. I wonder where they’ll let us sleep, that black boy and my uncle. I hope the room will have a pretty fire in it, like this one. Don’t you?”
[40]Rudanthy did not answer, but as Josephine laid her flat upon the carpet, to remove her travelling cloak, she immediately closed her waxen lids, and her little mother took this for assent17.
“Oh, you sweetest thing! How I do love you!”
There followed a close hug of the faithful doll, which was witnessed by a trio of colored men from a rear door, where they stood, open-eyed and mouthed, wondering what in the world the master would say when he returned and found this little trespasser18 upon his hearth-stone.
When Rudanthy had been embraced, to the detriment19 of her jute ringlets and her mistress’ comfort, Josephine curled down on the rug before the grate to put the doll asleep, observing:
“You’re so cold, Rudanthy. Colder than I am, even. Your precious hands are like ice. You must lie right here close to the fire, ’tween me and it. By-and-by Uncle Joe will come and then—My! Won’t he be surprised?[41] That Peter boy is so dreadful stupid, like’s not he’ll forget to say a single word about us. Never mind. He’s my papa’s twin brother. Do you know what twins are, Rudanthy? I do. Big Bridget’s sister’s got a pair of them. They’re two of a kind, though sometimes one of them is the other kind. I mean, you know, sometimes one twin isn’t a brother, it’s a sister. That’s what big Bridget’s sister’s was. Oh, dear. I’m tired. I’m hungry. I liked it better on that nice first railway car where everybody took care of me and gave me sweeties. It’s terrible still here. I—I’m afraid I’m going to sleep.”
In another moment the fear of the weary little traveller had become a fact. Rudanthy was already slumbering20; and, alas21! that was to prove the last of her many naps. But Josephine was unconscious of the grief awaiting her own awakening22; and, fortunately, too young to know what a different welcome should have been accorded herself by the relative she had come so far to visit.
Peter peeped in, from time to time, found[42] all peaceful, and retired23 in thankfulness for the temporary lull24. He was trembling in his shoes against the hour when the master should return and find him so unfaithful to his trust as to have admitted that curly-haired intruder upon their dignified25 privacy. Yet he encouraged himself with the reflection:
“Well, no need crossin’ no bridges till you meet up with ’em, and this bridge ain’t a crossin’ till Massa Joe’s key turns in that lock. Reckon I was guided to pick out that fine duck for dinner this night, I do. S’posin’, now, the market had been poor? Huh! Every trouble sets better on a full stummick ’an a empty. Massa Joe’s powerful fond of duck, lessen26 it’s spoiled in the cookin’. I’ll go warn that ’Pollo to be mighty27 careful it done to a turn.”
Peter departed kitchen ward28, where he tarried gossipping over the small guest above stairs and the probable outcome of her advent29.
“Nobody what’s a Christian30 goin’ to turn a little gell outen their doors such an evenin’ as this,” said Apollo, deftly31 basting32 the fowl33 in the pan.
“Mebbe not, mebbe not. But I reckon we can’t, none of us, callate on whatever Massa Joe’s goin’ to do about anything till he does it. He’s off to a board meeting, this evening, and I hope he sets on it comfortable. When them boards are too hard, like, he comes home mighty ’rascible. Keep a right smart watch on that bird, ’Pollo, won’t you? whiles I go lay the table.”
But here another question arose to puzzle the old man. Should he, or should he not, prepare that table for the unexpected guest? There was nobody more particular than Mr. Smith that all his orders should be obeyed to the letter. Each evening he wished his dinner to be served after one prescribed fashion, and any infraction34 of his rules brought a reprimand to Peter.
However, in this case he determined35 to risk a little for hospitality’s sake, reflecting that if the master were displeased36 he could whisk off the extra plate before it was discovered.
“Massa Joe’s just as like to scold if I don’t[44] put it on as if I do. Never allays37 account for what’ll please him best. Depends on how he takes it.”
Busy in his dining-room he did not hear the cab roll over the snowy street and stop at the door, nor the turn of the key in the lock. Nor, lost in his own thoughts, did the master of the house summon a servant to help him off with his coat and overshoes. He repaired immediately to his library, arranged a few papers, went to his dressing-room and attired38 himself for dinner, with the carefulness to which he had been trained from childhood, and afterward39 strolled leisurely40 toward the great parlor, turned on the electric light, and paused upon its threshold amazed, exclaiming:
“What is this? What in the world is—this?”
The sudden radiance which touched her eyelids41, rather than his startled exclamation42, roused small Josephine from her restful nap. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, which brightened with a radiance beyond that of electricity, and sprang to her feet. With outstretched arms[45] she flung herself upon the astonished gentleman, crying:
“Oh, you beautiful, beautiful man! You darling, precious Uncle Joe! I’m Josephine! I’ve come!”
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1
satchel
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| n.(皮或帆布的)书包 | |
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2
strap
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| n.皮带，带子；v.用带扣住，束牢；用绷带包扎 | |
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3
hack
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| n.劈，砍，出租马车；v.劈，砍，干咳 | |
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4
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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5
disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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6
luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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7
parlor
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| n.店铺，营业室；会客室，客厅 | |
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8
aglow
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| adj.发亮的；发红的；adv.发亮地 | |
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9
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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10
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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11
delightfully
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| 大喜，欣然 | |
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12
fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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13
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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14
engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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15
flakes
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| 小薄片( flake的名词复数 )； （尤指）碎片； 雪花； 古怪的人 | |
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16
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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17
assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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18
trespasser
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| n.侵犯者；违反者 | |
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19
detriment
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| n.损害；损害物，造成损害的根源 | |
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20
slumbering
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| 微睡，睡眠（slumber的现在分词形式） | |
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21
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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22
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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23
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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24
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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25
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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26
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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27
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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28
ward
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| n.守卫，监护，病房，行政区，由监护人或法院保护的人（尤指儿童）；vt.守护，躲开 | |
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29
advent
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| n.(重要事件等的)到来，来临 | |
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30
Christian
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| adj.基督教徒的；n.基督教徒 | |
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31
deftly
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| adv.灵巧地，熟练地，敏捷地 | |
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32
basting
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| n.疏缝；疏缝的针脚；疏缝用线；涂油v.打( baste的现在分词 )；粗缝；痛斥；（烤肉等时）往上抹[浇]油 | |
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33
fowl
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| n.家禽，鸡，禽肉 | |
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34
infraction
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| n.违反；违法 | |
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35
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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36
displeased
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| a.不快的 | |
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37
allays
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| v.减轻，缓和( allay的第三人称单数 ) | |
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38
attired
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| adj.穿着整齐的v.使穿上衣服，使穿上盛装( attire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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39
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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40
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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41
eyelids
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| n.眼睑( eyelid的名词复数 )；眼睛也不眨一下；不露声色；面不改色 | |
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42
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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