Dr. Clark shook his head gravely. "She is not improving as fast as I should like to see," he said. "In fact—er—she seems to have gone backward the past week. You must send her to the country, Miss Langley. The heat here is too trying for her."
Dr. Clark might as well have said, "You must send her to the moon"—or so Marcella thought bitterly. Despair filled her heart as she looked at Patty's white face and transparent1 hands and listened to the doctor's coolly professional advice. Patty's illness had already swept away the scant2 savings3 of three years. Marcella had nothing left with which to do anything more for her.
She did not make any answer to the doctor—she could not. Besides, what could she say, with Patty's big blue eyes, bigger and bluer than ever in her thin face, looking at her so wistfully? She dared not say it was impossible. But Aunt Emma had no such scruples4. With a great clatter5 and racket, that lady fell upon the dishes that held Patty's almost untasted dinner and whisked them away while her tongue kept time to her jerky movements.
"Goodness me, doctor, do you think you're talking to millionaires? Where do you suppose the money is to come from to send Patty to the country? I can't afford it, that is certain. I think I do pretty well to give Marcella and Patty their board free, and I have to work my fingers to the bone to do that. It's all nonsense about Patty, anyhow. What she ought to do is to make an effort to get better. She doesn't—she just mopes and pines. She won't eat a thing I cook for her. How can anyone expect to get better if she doesn't eat?"
Aunt Emma glared at the doctor as if she were triumphantly6 sure that she had propounded8 an unanswerable question. A dull red flush rose to Marcella's face.
"Oh, Aunt Emma, I can't eat!" said Patty wearily. "It isn't because I won't—indeed, I can't."
"Humph! I suppose my cooking isn't fancy enough for you—that's the trouble. Well, I haven't the time to put any frills on it. I think I do pretty well to wait on you at all with all that work piling up before me. But some people imagine that they were born to be waited on."
Aunt Emma whirled the last dish from the table and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
The doctor shrugged9 his shoulders. He had become used to Miss Gibson's tirades10 during Patty's illness. But Marcella had never got used to them—never, in all the three years she had lived with her aunt. They flicked11 on the raw as keenly as ever. This morning it seemed unbearable12. It took every atom of Marcella's self-control to keep her from voicing her resentful thoughts. It was only for Patty's sake that she was able to restrain herself. It was only for Patty's sake, too, that she did not, as soon as the doctor had gone, give way to tears. Instead, she smiled bravely into the little sister's eyes.
"Let me brush your hair now, dear, and bathe your face."
"Have you time?" said Patty anxiously.
"Yes, I think so."
Patty gave a sigh of content.
"I'm so glad! Aunt Emma always hurts me when she brushes my hair—she is in such a hurry. You're so gentle, Marcella, you don't make my head ache at all. But oh! I'm so tired of being sick. I wish I could get well faster. Marcy, do you think I can be sent to the country?"
"I—I don't know, dear. I'll see if I can think of any way to manage it," said Marcella, striving to speak hopefully.
Patty drew a long breath.
"Oh, Marcy, it would be lovely to see the green fields again, and the woods and brooks13, as we did that summer we spent in the country before Father died. I wish we could live in the country always. I'm sure I would soon get better if I could go—if it was only for a little while. It's so hot here—and the factory makes such a noise—my head seems to go round and round all the time. And Aunt Emma scolds so."
"You mustn't mind Aunt Emma, dear," said Marcella. "You know she doesn't really mean it—it is just a habit she has got into. She was really very good to you when you were so sick. She sat up night after night with you, and made me go to bed. There now, dearie, you're fresh and sweet, and I must hurry to the store, or I'll be late. Try and have a little nap, and I'll bring you home some oranges tonight."
Marcella dropped a kiss on Patty's cheek, put on her hat and went out. As soon as she left the house, she quickened her steps almost to a run. She feared she would be late, and that meant a ten-cent fine. Ten cents loomed14 as large as ten dollars now to Marcella's eyes when every dime15 meant so much. But fast as she went, her distracted thoughts went faster. She could not send Patty to the country. There was no way, think, plan, worry as she might. And if she could not! Marcella remembered Patty's face and the doctor's look, and her heart sank like lead. Patty was growing weaker every day instead of stronger, and the weather was getting hotter. Oh, if Patty were to—to—but Marcella could not complete the sentence even in thought.
If they were not so desperately16 poor! Marcella's bitterness overflowed17 her soul at the thought. Everywhere around her were evidences of wealth—wealth often lavishly18 and foolishly spent—and she could not get money enough anywhere to save her sister's life! She almost felt that she hated all those smiling, well-dressed people who thronged19 the streets. By the time she reached the store, poor Marcella's heart was seething20 with misery21 and resentment22.
Three years before, when Marcella had been sixteen and Patty nine, their parents had died, leaving them absolutely alone in the world except for their father's half-sister, Miss Gibson, who lived in Canning and earned her livelihood23 washing and mending for the hands employed in the big factory nearby. She had grudgingly24 offered the girls a home, which Marcella had accepted because she must. She obtained a position in one of the Canning stores at three dollars a week, out of which she contrived25 to dress herself and Patty and send the latter to school. Her life for three years was one of absolute drudgery26, yet until now she had never lost courage, but had struggled bravely on, hoping for better times in the future when she should get promotion27 and Patty would be old enough to teach school.
But now Marcella's courage and hopefulness had gone out like a spent candle. She was late at the store, and that meant a fine; her head ached, and her feet felt like lead as she climbed the stairs to her department—a hot, dark, stuffy28 corner behind the shirtwaist counter. It was warm and close at any time, but today it was stifling29, and there was already a crowd of customers, for it was the day of a bargain sale. The heat and noise and chatter30 got on Marcella's tortured nerves. She felt that she wanted to scream, but instead she turned calmly to a waiting customer—a big, handsome, richly dressed woman. Marcella noted31 with an ever-increasing bitterness that the woman wore a lace collar the price of which would have kept Patty in the country for a year.
She was Mrs. Liddell—Marcella knew her by sight—and she was in a very bad temper because she had been kept waiting. For the next half hour she badgered and worried Marcella to the point of distraction32. Nothing suited her. Pile after pile, box after box, of shirtwaists did Marcella take down for her, only to have them flung aside with sarcastic33 remarks. Mrs. Liddell seemed to hold Marcella responsible for the lack of waists that suited her; her tongue grew sharper and sharper and her comments more trying. Then she mislaid her purse, and was disagreeable about that until it turned up.
Marcella shut her lips so tightly that they turned white to keep back the impatient retort that rose momentarily to her lips. The insolence34 of some customers was always trying to the sensitive, high-spirited girl, but today it seemed unbearable. Her head throbbed35 fiercely with the pain of the ever-increasing ache, and—what was the lady on her right saying to a friend?
"Yes, she had typhoid, you know—a very bad form. She rallied from it, but she was so exhausted36 that she couldn't really recover, and the doctor said—"
"Really," interrupted Mrs. Liddell's sharp voice, "may I ask you to attend to me, if you please? No doubt gossip may be very interesting to you, but I am accustomed to having a clerk pay some small attention to my requirements. If you cannot attend to your business, I shall go to the floor walker and ask him to direct me to somebody who can. The laziness and disobligingness of the girls in this store is really getting beyond endurance."
A passionate37 answer was on the point of Marcella's tongue. All her bitterness and suffering and resentment flashed into her face and eyes. For one moment she was determined38 to speak out, to repay Mrs. Liddell's insolence in kind. A retort was ready to her hand. Everyone knew that Mrs. Liddell, before her marriage to a wealthy man, had been a working girl. What could be easier than to say contemptuously: "You should be a judge of a clerk's courtesy and ability, madam. You were a shop girl yourself once?"
But if she said it, what would follow? Prompt and instant dismissal. And Patty? The thought of the little sister quelled39 the storm in Marcella's soul. For Patty's sake she must control her temper—and she did. With an effort that left her white and tremulous she crushed back the hot words and said quietly: "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Liddell. I did not mean to be inattentive. Let me show you some of our new lingerie waists, I think you will like them."
But Mrs. Liddell did not like the new lingerie waists which Marcella brought to her in her trembling hands. For another half hour she examined and found fault and sneered40. Then she swept away with the scornful remark that she didn't see a thing there that was fit to wear, and she would go to Markwell Bros. and see if they had anything worth looking at.
When she had gone, Marcella leaned against the counter, pale and exhausted. She must have a breathing spell. Oh, how her head ached! How hot and stifling and horrible everything was! She longed for the country herself. Oh, if she and Patty could only go away to some place where there were green clover meadows and cool breezes and great hills where the air was sweet and pure!
During all this time a middle-aged41 woman had been sitting on a stool beside the bargain counter. When a clerk asked her if she wished to be waited on, she said, "No, I'm just waiting here for a friend who promised to meet me."
She was tall and gaunt and grey haired. She had square jaws42 and cold grey eyes and an aggressive nose, but there was something attractive in her plain face, a mingling43 of common sense and kindliness44. She watched Marcella and Mrs. Liddell closely and lost nothing of all that was said and done on both sides. Now and then she smiled grimly and nodded.
When Mrs. Liddell had gone, she rose and leaned over the counter. Marcella opened her burning eyes and pulled herself wearily together.
"What can I do for you?" she said.
"Nothing. I ain't looking for to have anything done for me. You need to have something done for you, I guess, by the looks of you. You seem dead beat out. Aren't you awful tired? I've been listening to that woman jawing45 you till I felt like rising up and giving her a large and wholesome46 piece of my mind. I don't know how you kept your patience with her, but I can tell you I admired you for it, and I made up my mind I'd tell you so."
The kindness and sympathy in her tone broke Marcella down. Tears rushed to her eyes. She bowed her head on her hands and said sobbingly47, "Oh, I am tired! But it's not that. I'm—I'm in such trouble."
"I knew you were," said the other, with a nod of her head. "I could tell that right off by your face. Do you know what I said to myself? I said, 'That girl has got somebody at home awful sick.' That's what I said. Was I right?"
"Yes, indeed you were," said Marcella.
"I knew it"—another triumphant7 nod. "Now, you just tell me all about it. It'll do you good to talk it over with somebody. Here, I'll pretend I'm looking at shirtwaists, so that floor walker won't be coming down on you, and I'll be as hard to please as that other woman was, so's you can take your time. Who's sick—and what's the matter?"
Marcella told the whole story, choking back her sobs48 and forcing herself to speak calmly, having the fear of the floor walker before her eyes.
"And I can't afford to send Patty to the country—I can't—and I know she won't get better if she doesn't go," she concluded.
"Dear, dear, but that's too bad! Something must be done. Let me see—let me put on my thinking cap. What is your name?"
"Marcella Langley."
The older woman dropped the lingerie waist she was pretending to examine and stared at Marcella.
"You don't say! Look here, what was your mother's name before she was married?"
"Mary Carvell."
"Well, I have heard of coincidences, but this beats all! Mary Carvell! Well, did you ever hear your mother speak of a girl friend of hers called Josephine Draper?"
"I should think I did! You don't mean—"
"I do mean it. I'm Josephine Draper. Your mother and I went to school together, and we were as much as sisters to each other until she got married. Then she went away, and after a few years I lost trace of her. I didn't even know she was dead. Poor Mary! Well, my duty is plain—that's one comfort—my duty and my pleasure, too. Your sister is coming out to Dalesboro to stay with me. Yes, and you are too, for the whole summer. You needn't say you're not, because you are. I've said so. There's room at Fir Cottage for you both. Yes, Fir Cottage—I guess you've heard your mother speak of that. There's her old room out there that we always slept in when she came to stay all night with me. It's all ready for you. What's that? You can't afford to lose your place here? Bless your heart, child, you won't lose it! The owner of this store is my nephew, and he'll do considerable to oblige me, as well he might, seeing as I brought him up. To think that Mary Carvell's daughter has been in his store for three years, and me never suspecting it! And I might never have found you out at all if you hadn't been so patient with that woman. If you'd sassed her back, I'd have thought she deserved it and wouldn't have blamed you a mite49, but I wouldn't have bothered coming to talk to you either. Well, well well! Poor child, don't cry. You just pick up and go home. I'll make it all right with Tom. You're pretty near played out yourself, I can see that. But a summer in Fir Cottage, with plenty of cream and eggs and my cookery, will soon make another girl of you. Don't you dare to thank me. It's a privilege to be able to do something for Mary Carvell's girls. I just loved Mary."
The upshot of the whole matter was that Marcella and Patty went, two days later, to Dalesboro, where Miss Draper gave them a hearty50 welcome to Fir Cottage—a quaint51, delightful52 little house circled by big Scotch53 firs and overgrown with vines. Never were such delightful weeks as those that followed. Patty came rapidly back to health and strength. As for Marcella, Miss Draper's prophecy was also fulfilled; she soon looked and felt like another girl. The dismal54 years of drudgery behind her were forgotten like a dream, and she lived wholly in the beautiful present, in the walks and drives, the flowers and grass slopes, and in the pleasant household duties which she shared with Miss Draper.
"I love housework," she exclaimed one September day. "I don't like the thought of going back to the store a bit."
"Well, you're not going back," calmly said Miss Draper, who had a habit of arranging other people's business for them that might have been disconcerting had it not been for her keen insight and hearty good sense. "You're going to stay here with me—you and Patty. I don't propose to die of lonesomeness losing you, and I need somebody to help me about the house. I've thought it all out. You are to call me Aunt Josephine, and Patty is to go to school. I had this scheme in mind from the first, but I thought I'd wait to see how we got along living in the same house, and how you liked it here, before I spoke55 out. No, you needn't thank me this time either. I'm doing this every bit as much for my sake as yours. Well, that's all settled. Patty won't object, bless her rosy56 cheeks!"
"Oh!" said Marcella, with eyes shining through her tears. "I'm so happy, dear Miss Draper—I mean Aunt Josephine. I'll love to stay here—and I will thank you."
"Fudge!" remarked Miss Draper, who felt uncomfortably near crying herself. "You might go out and pick a basket of Golden Gems57. I want to make some jelly for Patty."
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1
transparent
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| adj.明显的，无疑的；透明的 | |
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scant
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| adj.不充分的，不足的；v.减缩，限制，忽略 | |
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3
savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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clatter
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| v./n.(使)发出连续而清脆的撞击声 | |
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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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triumphant
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| adj.胜利的，成功的；狂欢的，喜悦的 | |
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8
propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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9
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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10
tirades
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| 激烈的长篇指责或演说( tirade的名词复数 ) | |
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flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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12
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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brooks
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| n.小溪( brook的名词复数 ) | |
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14
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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15
dime
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| n.（指美国、加拿大的钱币）一角 | |
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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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overflowed
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| 溢出的 | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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seething
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| 沸腾的，火热的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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livelihood
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| n.生计，谋生之道 | |
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grudgingly
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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drudgery
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| n.苦工，重活，单调乏味的工作 | |
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promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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stuffy
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| adj.不透气的，闷热的 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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chatter
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| vi.／n.喋喋不休；短促尖叫；(牙齿)打战 | |
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noted
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| adj.著名的，知名的 | |
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distraction
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| n.精神涣散，精神不集中，消遣，娱乐 | |
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sarcastic
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| adj.讥讽的，讽刺的，嘲弄的 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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throbbed
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| 抽痛( throb的过去式和过去分词 )； （心脏、脉搏等）跳动 | |
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exhausted
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| adj.极其疲惫的，精疲力尽的 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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quelled
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| v.（用武力）制止，结束，镇压( quell的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
sneered
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| 讥笑，冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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41
middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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43
mingling
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| adj.混合的 | |
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44
kindliness
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| n.厚道，亲切，友好的行为 | |
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45
jawing
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| n.用水灌注 | |
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46
wholesome
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| adj.适合；卫生的；有益健康的；显示身心健康的 | |
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47
sobbingly
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| 啜泣地，呜咽地，抽抽噎噎地 | |
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sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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49
mite
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| n.极小的东西；小铜币 | |
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50
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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51
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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52
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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53
scotch
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| n.伤口，刻痕；苏格兰威士忌酒；v.粉碎，消灭，阻止；adj.苏格兰(人)的 | |
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54
dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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55
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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56
rosy
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| adj.美好的，乐观的，玫瑰色的 | |
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57
gems
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| growth； economy； management； and customer satisfaction 增长 | |
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