It struck terror to the heart of Mrs. Cross. Though she had paid some of her debts, she had incurred3 others: indeed, the very fact of her having to pay had caused her to incur2 fresh ones. Her position was ominous4. She and Amelia had worked for this same manufacturer, now dead, and of course they were at a standstill. Mary Ann Tyrrett had likewise worked for him; but she had left the paternal5 home; and with her we have nothing just now to do. The position of others was ominous, as well as that of Mrs. Cross. It was the autumn season, and trade was flat. Winter orders had gone in, and there was no necessity to hurry those for the spring; so that the hands thrown out of work, both men and women, stood every chance of remaining out.
A gloom overspread Honey Fair. In many a household the articles least needed went, week after week, to the pawnbrokers6, without being redeemed8 on the Saturday night, as in more prosperous times. Upon the proceeds the families had to exist. It was bad enough for those who were free from debt; but for those already labouring under it—above all, labouring under secret debt—it was something not to be told. Mrs. Cross had nightmares regularly every night. Visions would come over her now and again of running away, if she had only known where to run to. The men would stand or sit at their doors all day, with pipes in their mouths: money was sure to be found for tobacco, by hook or by crook9. There they would lounge in gloomy silence, varied10 by an occasional wordy war with their wives, who wished them anywhere else; or they and their pipes would saunter up and down the road, forming into groups to condole11 with each other and to abuse the glove trade.
One Monday afternoon there was a small assemblage in the kitchen of Jacob Cross—himself, Andrew Brumm, and Timothy Carter. Brumm and Carter were, in one sense, more fortunate than Cross; inasmuch as that their respective wives worked each for another house, not the one which had closed; therefore they retained their employment. The fact, however, appeared to afford little consolation12 to the two men, for they were keeping up a chorus of grumbling13, when Joe Fisher staggered in—if you have not forgotten him.
Fisher had hitherto managed, to the intense surprise of every one, to keep out of the workhouse. He would be taken on for a job of work now and then; but manufacturers were chary14 of employing Joe Fisher. For one thing, he gave way to drink. A disreputable-looking object had he become: a tattered15 coat and waistcoat, pantaloons in rags, and not the ghost of a shirt. People wondered how he found money for drink.
"Who'll give us house-room?" was his salutation, as he pushed himself in, his eyes haggard, his legs unsteady, his face thin from incipient16 famine. "Will nobody give us a corner to lie in?"
The men took their pipes from their mouths. "Turned out at last, Joe?"
"Turned out," replied Joe. "And my missis close upon her down-lying."
Mrs. Cross, who was at the back of the kitchen, washing out her potato saucepan, of which frugal17 edible18, seasoned with salt, the family dinner had consisted, put in her word.
"You couldn't expect nothing else, Joe Fisher. There you have been, in them folks' furnished room, paying nothing, and paying nothing, and you drinking everlasting19. They have threatened you long enough. Last week, you know, they took a vow20 you should go this."
"You can look at 'em," responded Fisher. "They're not a hundred miles off. They bain't out of view."
He gave a flourish of his hand towards the road, and the men and Mrs. Cross crowded to the door to reconnoitre. In the middle of the lane, crouched22 down in its mud, for the weather had been bad, and it was very wet under foot, was untidy Sukey Fisher—a woman all skin and bone now, her face hopeless and desperate. She wore no cap, and her matted hair fell on to her gown—such a gown! all tatters and dirt. Several young children huddled23 around her.
"Untidy creature!" muttered Mrs. Cross to herself. "She is as fond of a drop as her lazy, quarrelsome husband; and this is what they have brought it to between 'em! Them poor little objects of young 'uns 'ud be as well dead as alive."
"Look at 'em!" began Fisher. "And they call this a free country! They call it a country as is a pattern to others and a refuge for the needy24. Why don't Government, that opened our ports to them foreign French and keeps 'em open, come down and take a look at my wife squatting25 there?—turned out of our room without a place to put our heads into!"
"If you hadn't put quite as much inside your head, Joe Fisher, and been doing of it for years, you might have had more for the outside on't now," again spoke26 Mrs. Cross in her sharp tones. The woman was not naturally sharp, as were some in Honey Fair; but the miserable27 fear she lived in, added to their present privations, told upon her temper.
"Hold your magging," said Joe Fisher. "I never like to quarrel with petticuts, one's own belongings28 excepted. All as I say, Mother Cross, is, don't you mag."
Mrs. Cross made no reply to this, and Fisher resumed.
"This comes of letting the Government and the masters have their own way! If we had that there strike among us, that I've so often told ye on, things would be different. Let a man sit down a minute, Cross."
Cross civilly pushed a chair towards him, concentrating his attention afterwards upon Mrs. Fisher. A crowd had collected round her; and Mrs. Buffle, with a feeling of humanity that few had given that lady credit for possessing, sent out an old woollen shawl to the shivering woman, and a basin of hasty pudding. The mother could not feed the whining29 children fast enough with the one iron spoon.
A young man ran up to Cross's door. It was Adam Thorneycroft. He did not live in Honey Fair, but often found his way to it, although Charlotte had rejected him. "Is Joe Fisher here?" asked he. "Fisher, why don't you go to the workhouse and tell them the state your wife is in? She can't stop there."
Thorneycroft turned on his heel, a scornful gesture escaping him at Fisher's half-stupid condition. "I must be off to my work," he observed; "but can't one of you, who are gentlemen at large, just go to the workhouse and acquaint them with the woman's helplessness, and that of her children around her?"
Timothy Carter responded to it. "I'll go," said he; "I haven't nothing to do with myself this afternoon."
Timothy and Adam walked away together, Tim treading with gingerly feet past his own door, lest his wife should recognise his step, bolt out, and stop him. Charlotte East was standing31 at her door, and Adam halted. Timothy walked on: he did not feel himself perfectly32 safe yet.
"What a life that poor woman's is!" exclaimed Charlotte.
Charlotte moved her face gravely towards him. "Say through his drinking, Adam."
"Do you speak that as a warning, Charlotte?" he continued. "I think you mean well by me, but you go just the wrong way to show it. If you wanted me to keep steady, you should have come and helped me in it. Good-bye. I am late."
"Gentlemen at large, young Thorney called us!" cried Jacob Cross to his friend Brumm, as Fisher went off and they sat down again. "He's not far out. What's to be the end on't?"
"Why, the work'us," responded Mrs. Cross, who rarely let an opportunity slip of putting in her own opinion. "The work'us for us as well as for the Fishers, unless things take a turn. When great, big, able-bodied men is throwed out o' work, and yet has to eat and drink, and other folks at home has to eat and drink, and nothing to stay their stomachs upon, the work'us can't be far off."
"Never for me!" said Andrew Brumm. "I'll work to keep me and mine out on it, if it is at breaking stones upon the road. I know one thing—if ever I do get into certain work again, I'll make my missis be a bit providenter than she was before."
"Bell Brumm ain't one of the provident34 sort," dissented35 Mrs. Cross. "How do you manage to get along at all, Drew, these bad times? You don't seem to get into trouble."
"Well, we manage somehow," replied Andrew. "But we have to pinch. My missis sticks at her work, now I be out on't. She hardly looks off it; and I does the house, and sees to the children. Nine shilling, all but her silk, she earned last week. And finding that we can exist on that after a fashion, has set me thinking that when my good wages was added to it we ought to have put by for a rainy day," he continued, after a pause. "Just let me get the chance again!"
"It's surprising the miracles wages works when folks ain't earning none!" put in Mrs. Cross in a tone of irony36, who did not altogether like the turn the conversation was taking. "When you get into work again, Drew Brumm, your wife won't be more able to save than the rest of us."
"But she shall," returned Andrew. "And she sees for herself now that it might be done."
"I was a-making a calkelation yesterday how long we might hold out on our household things," observed Jacob Cross—a silent man, in general. "If none of us can get work, they'll have to go, piecemeal37. One can't clam38; one must live upon something."
"I'm resolved upon one point—that I won't have no underhand debt again," resumed Brumm. "Last spring I found out the flaring39 trade my missis was carrying on with them Bankes's—and the way I come to know of it was funny: but never mind that. 'Bell,' says I to her, 'I'd rather sell off all I've got and go tramping the country, than I'd live with a sword over my head'—which debt is. And I went down to Bankes's and said to 'em, 'If you let my wife get into debt again, I won't pay it, as I now give you notice, and I'll have you up before the justices for a pest.' I thought I'd make it strong, you see, Cross. And I paid off their bill, so much a week, and got shut of 'em. Them Bankes's does more mischief40 in Honey Fair than everything else put together."
"Why, what do Bankes's do?" asked Jacob, in happy ignorance.
"Do!" returned Brumm. "Don't you know——"
But at that critical moment, Mrs. Cross, in bustling41 behind Andrew Brumm's chair, which was on the tilt42, contrived43 to get her foot entangled44 in it. Brumm, his chair, and his pipe, all came down together.
"Mercy on us!" uttered Jacob Cross, coming to the rescue. "How did you manage that, Brumm?"
Before Brumm could answer, or had well gathered himself up, there was another visitor—Mr. Abbott, the landlord of at least a third of Honey Fair. He had come on his usual Monday's errand. Jacob Cross put down his pipe and touched his hat, which, in the manners of Honey Fair, was worn indoors. It was not often that the landlord and the men came into contact with each other.
"Are you ready for me, Mrs. Cross?"
"We are not ready to-day, sir," interposed Jacob. "You must please to give us a little grace these hard times, sir. The moment I be in work again, I'll think of you, before I think of ourselves."
"I have given all the grace I can give," replied Mr. Abbott, a hard, surly man. "You must either pay, or turn out: I don't care which."
"I'll pay you as soon as I am in work, sir; you may count upon it. As to turning out, sir, where could I turn to? You'd not let me take out my furniture, and we can't sit down in the street, as Fisher's wife is doing."
Mr. Abbott turned to the door. When he came back, a man was with him. "I must trouble you to give this man house-room for a few days. As you won't go out, he must stop in, to see that your goods stop in."
Cross's spirit rose within him. "It's a hard way to treat a man, sir! I have lived under you for years, and you have had your rent regular."
"Regular!" exclaimed the landlord. "I have had more trouble to get it from your wife, since Bankes's came to Helstonleigh, than from anybody else in Honey Fair."
Cross did not understand this. He was too much absorbed by the point in question to ask an explanation. "There's only three weeks owing to you, sir, and——"
"Three weeks!" interrupted Mr. Abbott; "there are nine weeks owing to me. Nine weeks to-day."
Jacob Cross stood confounded. "Who says there's nine weeks?" asked he.
"I say so. Your wife can say so. Ask her."
But Mrs. Cross, with a scared face and white lips, whisked through the door and hurried down Honey Fair. The explosion had come.
Mr. Abbott, wasting no more words, departed, leaving the unwelcome visitor behind him. Andrew Brumm came in again from outside, where he had stood, out of delicacy45, feeling thankful that his rent was all right. It was pinching work; but Andrew was beginning to learn that debt pinches the mind, more than hunger pinches the body.
"Comrade," whispered he, grasping Cross's hand, "it's all along of them Bankes's. The women buy their fal-lals and their finery, and the weekly payments to 'em must be kept up, whether or no, for fear Bankes's should let out on't to us, and ask us for the money. Of course the rent and other things gets behind. Half the women round us are knee-deep in Bankes's books."
"Why couldn't you have told me this before?" demanded Cross, in his astonishment46.
"Where's she got to?" cried Jacob, looking round for his wife. "I'll come to the bottom of this. Nine weeks' rent owing; and her salving me up that it was only three!"
Jacob might well say, "Where's she got to?" Mrs. Cross had glided48 down Honey Fair into the first friendly door that happened to be open. That was Mrs. Carter's. "For mercy's sake, let's stop here a minute, Elizabeth Carter!" exclaimed she. "We have got the bums50 in!"
Mrs. Carter was rubbing up some brass51 candlesticks. Work ran short with her that week, and therefore she spent it in cleaning, which was her notion of taking holiday; scrubbing and scouring52 from morning till night. She turned round and stared at Mrs. Cross, who, with white face and gasping53 breath, had sunk down upon a chair.
"What on earth's the matter?"
"Abbott has brought it out to my husband that I owes nine weeks' rent, and he's telling him about Bankes's, and now he has gone and put a bum49 into the house!"
"More soft you, to have had to do with Bankes's!" was the sympathy offered by Mrs. Carter. "You couldn't expect nothing less."
"That old skinflint, Abbott——"
Mrs. Cross stopped short. She opened the staircase door about an inch, and humbly54 twisted herself through the aperture55. Who should be standing there to hear her, having followed her in, but Mr. Abbott himself.
He had no need to say, "Ready, Mrs. Carter?" Mrs. Carter always was ready. She paid him weekly, and asked no favour. The payment made, he departed again, and Mrs. Cross emerged from her retreat.
"You can pay him!" she exclaimed, with some envy. "And Timothy's out o' work, too; and you be slack. How do you manage it?"
"I'm not a fool," was the logical response of Mrs. Carter. "If I spent my earnings56 when they are coming in regular, or let Tim keep his to his own cheek, where should we be in a time like this? I have my understanding about me."
Mrs. Carter did not praise her understanding without cause. Whatever social virtues57 she may have lacked, she was rich in thrift58, in forethought. Had Timothy remained out of work for a twelvemonth, they would not have been put to shifts.
"I'm afraid to go back!" cried Mrs. Cross.
"So should I be, if I got myself into your mess."
The offered sympathy not being consolatory59 to her present frame of mind, Mrs. Cross departed. Home, at present, she dared not go. She went about Honey Fair, seeking the gossiping pity which Elizabeth Carter had declined to give, but which she was yearning60 for. Thus she spent an hour or two.
Meanwhile the news had been spreading through Honey Fair, "Crosses had the bums in;" and Mary Ann, hearing it, flew home to know whether it was correct. She—partly through fear, partly in the security from paternal correction, imparted to her by the feeling that she was Mary Ann Tyrrett, and no longer Mary Ann Cross—yielded to her father's questions, and made full confession61. Debts here, debts there, debts everywhere. Cross was overwhelmed; and when his wife at length came in, he quietly knocked her down.
The broker7 advanced to the rescue. "If you dare to come between man and wife," raved62 Cross, lifting his arm menacingly, "I'll serve you the same." He was a quiet-tempered man, but this business had terribly exasperated63 him. "You'll come to die in the work'us," he uttered to his wife. "And serve you right! It's your doings that have broke up our home."
"No," retorted she passionately64, as she lifted herself from the floor; "it's your squanderings in the publics o' nights, that have helped to break up our home."
It was a little of both.
The quarrel was interrupted by a commotion65 outside, and Mrs. Cross darted66 out to look—glad, perhaps, to escape from her husband's anger. An official from the workhouse had come down with an order for the admission of Susan Fisher instanter. Timothy Carter, in his meek and humane67 spirit, had so enlarged upon the state of affairs in general, touching68 Mrs. Fisher, that the workhouse bestirred itself. An officer was despatched to marshal them into it at once. The uproar69 was caused by her resistance: she was still sitting in the road.
"I won't go into the work'us," she screamed; "I won't go there to be parted from my children and my husband. If I'm to die, I'll die out here."
"Just get up and march, and don't let's have no row," said the officer. "Else I'll fetch a wheel-barrer, and wheel ye to it."
She resisted, shrieking70 and flinging her arms and her wild hair about her, as only a foolish woman would do; the children, alarmed, clung to her and cried, and all Honey Fair came out to look. Mr. Joe Fisher also staggered up, in a state not to be described. He had been invited by some friend, more sympathizing than judicious71, to solace72 his troubles with strong waters; and down he fell in the mud, helpless.
"Well, here's a pretty kettle of fish!" cried the perplexed73 workhouse man. "A nice pair, they are! How I am to get 'em both there, is beyond me! She can walk, if she's forced to it; but he can't! They spend their money in sotting, and when they have no more to spend they come to us to keep 'em! I must get an open cart."
The cart was procured74 somewhere and brought to the scene, a policeman in attendance; and the children were lifted into it one by one. Next the man was thrown in, like a clod; and then came the woman's turn. With much struggling and kicking, with shrieks75 that might have been heard a mile off, she was at length hoisted76 into it. But she tumbled out again: raving77 that "no work'us shouldn't hold her." The official raved in turn; and Honey Fair hugged itself. It had not had the gratification of so exciting a scene for many a day; to say nothing of the satisfaction it derived78 from hearing the workhouse set at defiance79.
The official and the policeman at length conquered. She was secured, and the cart started at a snail's pace with its load—Mrs. Fisher setting up a prolonged and dismal80 lamentation81 not unlike an Irish howl: and Honey Fair, in its curiosity, following the cart as its train.
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收听单词发音
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1
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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incur
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| vt.招致，蒙受，遭遇 | |
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incurred
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| [医]招致的，遭受的； incur的过去式 | |
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ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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paternal
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| adj.父亲的，像父亲的，父系的，父方的 | |
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pawnbrokers
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| n.当铺老板( pawnbroker的名词复数 ) | |
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broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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varied
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| adj.多样的，多变化的 | |
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condole
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| v.同情；慰问 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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grumbling
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| adj. 喃喃鸣不平的, 出怨言的 | |
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chary
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| adj.谨慎的，细心的 | |
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tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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incipient
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| adj.起初的，发端的，初期的 | |
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frugal
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| adj.节俭的，节约的，少量的，微量的 | |
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edible
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| n.食品，食物；adj.可食用的 | |
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everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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needy
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
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squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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belongings
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| n.私人物品，私人财物 | |
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whining
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| n. 抱怨，牢骚 v. 哭诉，发牢骚 | |
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sullen
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| adj.愠怒的，闷闷不乐的，(天气等)阴沉的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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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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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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provident
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| adj.为将来做准备的，有先见之明的 | |
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dissented
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| 不同意，持异议( dissent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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irony
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| n.反语，冷嘲；具有讽刺意味的事，嘲弄 | |
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piecemeal
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| adj.零碎的；n.片，块；adv.逐渐地；v.弄成碎块 | |
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clam
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| n.蛤，蛤肉 | |
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flaring
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| a.火焰摇曳的，过份艳丽的 | |
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mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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bustling
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| adj.喧闹的 | |
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tilt
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| v.(使)倾侧；(使)倾斜；n.倾侧；倾斜 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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entangled
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| adj.卷入的；陷入的；被缠住的；缠在一起的v.使某人（某物/自己）缠绕，纠缠于（某物中），使某人（自己）陷入（困难或复杂的环境中）( entangle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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delicacy
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| n.精致，细微，微妙，精良；美味，佳肴 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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scouring
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| 擦[洗]净，冲刷，洗涤 | |
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gasping
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| adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
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humbly
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| adv. 恭顺地，谦卑地 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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earnings
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| n.工资收人；利润，利益，所得 | |
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virtues
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| 美德( virtue的名词复数 )； 德行； 优点； 长处 | |
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thrift
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| adj.节约，节俭；n.节俭，节约 | |
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consolatory
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| adj.慰问的，可藉慰的 | |
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yearning
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| a.渴望的；向往的；怀念的 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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raved
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| v.胡言乱语( rave的过去式和过去分词 )；愤怒地说；咆哮；痴心地说 | |
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exasperated
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| adj.恼怒的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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darted
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| v.投掷，投射( dart的过去式和过去分词 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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humane
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| adj.人道的，富有同情心的 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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judicious
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| adj.明智的，明断的，能作出明智决定的 | |
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solace
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| n.安慰；v.使快乐；vt.安慰(物)，缓和 | |
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perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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shrieks
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| n.尖叫声( shriek的名词复数 )v.尖叫( shriek的第三人称单数 ) | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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raving
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| adj.说胡话的；疯狂的，怒吼的；非常漂亮的；令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话；疯话adv.胡言乱语地；疯狂地 | |
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derived
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| vi.起源；由来；衍生；导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 )；（从…中）得到获得；源于；（从…中）提取 | |
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defiance
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| n.挑战，挑衅，蔑视，违抗 | |
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dismal
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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lamentation
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| n.悲叹，哀悼 | |
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