Peter paused to hook the line out from under Trixy's tail, and then re-cocking his hat at a comfortable angle and crossing his legs, he settled himself for conversation. Peter loved to talk and he loved an audience; he was essentially2 a social animal. His listeners were two brother coachmen and a bandy-legged young groom3, who were waiting, like himself, for "ladies' morning" to draw to its usual placid4 termination—sandwiches and lemonade on the club veranda5 after a not too heated putting contest on the first green.
"Yes, we got three visitin' kids; with Master Bobby it makes four, and I ain't drawed an easy breath since the mornin' they arrived. They keep up such an everlastin' racket that the people in the house can't stand them, an' we've had them in the stables most o' the time. Mrs. Brainard, that's their mother, is Mr. Carter's sister, and I can tell ye she makes herself to home.
"That's her over there with the lavender dress and the parasol"—he jerked his head in the direction of a gaily6 dressed group of ladies trailing across the links in the direction of the first green. "She's mournin' for her husband—light mournin', that is; he's dead two years."
"She picked me the first day to look after the la-ads. 'Peter,' she says, 'me dear boys are cr-razy to play in the stables, but I can't help worryin' for fear they'll get under the horses' feet. I have perfect confidence in you,' she says, 'and I'll put them under yer special[Pg 59] care. Just keep yer eye on the la-ads an' see that they don't get hur-rt.'
"'Thank ye, ma'am,' says I, flattered by the attention, I'll do the best I can.' I hadn't made the acquaintance o' the little darlin's yet, or I would 'a' chucked me job on the spot.
"Master Augustus—he's the youngest—has gold curls an' blue eyes and a smile as innocint as honey. He's the kind the ladies stops an' kisses, and asks, 'Whose little boy is you?' At the first glance ye'd think to see a couple o' wings sproutin' out behind, but when ye knowed him intimately, ye'd look for the horns an' tail. I've pulled that little divvil three times out o' the duck pond, and I've fished him out from the grain chute with a boat hook. I couldn't tell ye the number o' trees he's climbed after birds' eggs and got stuck in the top of; we keeps a groom an' ladder on tap, so to speak. One afternoon I caught the four o' them smokin' cigarettes[Pg 60] made o' dried corn silk up in the hay loft7 as comfortable as ye please—'tis many a stable-boy as has been bounced for less. Between them they finished up the dope the vet'rinary surgeon left when Blue Gipsy had the heaves, thinkin' it was whisky—an' serves them right, I say. I didn't tell on 'em, though, when the doctor asked what I thought the trouble was; I said I guessed it was green apples.
"But them's only the minor8 divarsions that occupy their leisure; they're nothin' to the things they think of when they really get down to business. The first thing they done was to pretend the victoria was a pirate ship; an' they scratched the paint all up a-tryin' to board her. Joe turned 'em out o' doors to play, an' they dug up the whole o' the strawberry bed huntin' for hidden treasure. Their next move was to take off their shoes an' stockin's, turn their clothes wrong side out, an' dirty up their faces with huckleberry juice—ye would have sworn they was a lot o' jabberin' Dagoes. They went beggin' in all the houses o' the neighbourhood, includin' Willowbrook, an' Nora never knew them an' give them some cold potatoes.
"One day last week they nearly broke their blame young necks slidin' down the waggon-shed roof on a greased tea-tray. There's a pile o' straw at the bottom that kind of acted as a buffer9, but Master Augustus didn't steer10 straight an' went over the edge. 'Twas only a drop o' four feet, but he come up lookin' damaged.
"That ain't the worst though. Last Sunday afternoon they frightened the cow into hysterics playin' she was a bull, an' they was matydoors or torydoors, or whatever ye call them. They stuck pins into her with paper windmills on the end, and she ain't give more 'n six quarts at any milkin' since. I was mad, I was, an' I marched 'em to the house an' tole their mother.
"'It grieves me,' she says, 'to think that me boys should be so troublesome; but they didn't mean to be cruel to the poor dumb brute11. They're spirited la-ads,' she says, 'an' their imaginations run away wid them. What they needs is intilligent direction. Ye should try,' she says, 'to enter into the spirit o' their innocint divarsions; an' when ye see them doin' somethin' dangerous, gintly turn their thoughts into another channel. Their grattytood,' she says, 'will pay ye for yer trouble.'
"'Wery well, ma'am,' says I, not too enthusiastic, 'I'll do the best I can,' and I bows meself out. I've been superintendin' their innocint divarsions ever since, and if there's any one as wants the job, I'll turn it over to him quick."
Peter paused to back his horses farther into the shade; then having climbed down and taken a drink at a near-by hydrant, he resumed his seat and the conversation.
"But ye should have seen them this mornin' when I drove off! They was a sight if there ever was one. Joe's away with Mr. Carter[Pg 63] and I'm takin' charge for the day. When I went into the carriage-house to give Billy orders about hitchin' up, what should I find but them precious little lambkins gambolin' around in stri-ped bathin' trunks, an' not another stitch. They was further engaged in paintin' their skins where the trunks left off—an' that was the most o' them—with a copper12 colour foundation and a trimmin' o' black stripes.
"'Holy Saint Patrick!' says I. 'What the divvil are ye up to now?'
"'Whoop13!' says Master Bobby. 'We'll scalp ye and eat yer heart. We're Comanche braves,' he says, 'an' we're gettin' ready for the war-path.'
"'Ye look more like zebras,' says I, 'escaped from a menagerie.'
"'Wait till we get our feathers on,' he says, 'an' Pete,' he adds, 'will you do me back? There's a place in the middle that I can't reach.'
"Wid that he turns a pink an' white surface a yawnin' for decoration, an' presses a can o' axle grease in me hands. And I'll be darned if them young imps15 hadn't covered their skins with axle grease and red brass16 polish, an' for variety, a touch o' bluing they'd got off Nora in the kitchen. An' they smelt17—Gee18! they smelt like a triple extract harness shop. I tole them I thought they'd be havin' trouble when they was ready to return to the haunts o' the pale-face; but Master Bobby said their clothes would cover it up.
"I done the job. I don't set up to be a mural artist, and I ain't braggin', but I will say as Master Bobby's back beat any signboard ye ever see when I finished the decoratin'. I fastened some chicken feathers in their hair, and I hunted out some tomahawks in the lumber19 room, an' they let out a war-whoop that raised the roof, an' scalped me out o' grattytood.
"'Now see here,' says I to Master Bobby, 'in return for helpin' along yer innocint amusements, will ye promise to do yer scalpin' in the paddock, an' not come near the stables? 'Cause me floor is clean,' I says, 'and I don't want no blood spattered on it. 'Tis hard to wash up,' I says. I was, ye'll observe, gintly turnin' their thoughts into another channel, like their mother recommended. An' they promised sweet as cherubs20. She was right; they're spirited la-ads, an' they won't be driven. 'Tis best to use diplomacy21.
"I left them crawlin' on all fours through the bushes by the duck pond, shootin' arrers in the air as innocint as ye please. I dunno, though, how long 'twill last. I tole Billy to keep an eye on them, and I s'pose when I get back, I'll find his head decoratin' the hitchin'-post an' his hair danglin' from their belts."
A movement of farewell on the club veranda brought the men back to their official selves. Peter straightened his hat, stiffened22 his back, and gathered up the reins23.
"So long, Mike," he remarked as he backed into the driveway. "I'll see ye to-morrow at the Daughters o' the Revolution; and if ye hear of anyone," he added, "as is wantin' a combination coachman an' first class nursemaid, give them my address. I'm lookin' for an easier place."
"Peter," said Mrs. Carter, as they trotted24 out of the club-house gateway25 and swung on to the smooth macadam of the homeward road, "I meant to ask you what the children were doing this morning. Have they been amusing themselves?"
"Yes, they've been amusin' themselves. They was playin' Indian, ma'am, with chicken feathers in their heads." He wisely suppressed the remainder of the costume. "I found them some tomahawks in the lumber room, an' the last I see o' them they was in the paddock scalpin' each other as happy as ye please."
"Those delicious boys!" murmured their[Pg 67] mother. "I never know what they will think of next. It is such a relief to get them into the country, where they can have plenty of room to play and I can be sure they are not in mischief26. They are so exuberant27, that when we are stopping in a summer hotel I am always uneasy for fear they may disturb the guests."
The carriage had turned into the Willowbrook grounds, and was decorously rolling along between the smooth green lawns bordered by coloured foliage28, the two ladies reclining against the cushions in placid contemplation of the summer noonday, when suddenly an ebullition of shouting and crying burst out across the shrubbery in the direction of the stables. It was not the mere29 joyous30 effervescence of animal spirits that had been gladdening Willowbrook for the past two weeks. There was an unmistakable note of alarm, a hoarser31 undertone, as of men joining in the tocsin. Peter pulled the horses sharply to their haunches[Pg 68] and cocked his head to listen, while the ladies leaned forward in a flutter of dismay.
Peter used his whip and they approached the house at a gallop33. The trouble was evident by now. Heavy clouds of smoke were curling up from among the willow1 trees while the cry of "Fire! Fire!" filled the air.
"Thank heaven it ain't the stables!" ejaculated Peter, as his eye anxiously studied the direction. "'Tis the waggon-shed—an' the buckboard's in it an' all the farmin' tools."
People were running from every side. Two men from Jasper Place came puffing34 through the hole in the hedge, dragging a garden hose behind them, while the house servants, bare-headed and excited, swarmed35 out from the back veranda.
"Annie! Annie!" called Mrs. Carter as the panting horses were dragged to a standstill, "turn on the fire alarm. Go to the telephone and call the engine house."
"Simpkins has done it, ma'am," called Annie over her shoulder, as she hurried on. "Ow! What's that?" she added with a scream of astonished terror, as a red and black striped figure, with a row of ragged36 feathers waving in a fringe about its ears, burst from the shrubbery and butted37 plump against her.
"Bobby!" gasped his mother, as after a moment of shocked hesitation38 she recognized her son. Bobby waved his arms and set up a howl. An expression of terror was plainly visible struggling through the war-paint.
"Pete, Billy, Patrick! Quick! Quick! We can't untie39 him and he's burning! We didn't mean to burn him," he added quickly. "It's an accident."
"Burn what?" cried Mrs. Carter.
And to the horror-stricken group was borne a shrill42 falsetto wail43: "Help! H-e-l-p! They're burning me at the s-t-a-k-e!"—a wail apparently44 of mortal anguish45, though an unexcited listener would have detected in the tones more of anger than of pain.
Mrs. Brainard, with a frenzied46 shriek47, threw away her lavender parasol and dashed in the direction of the sounds. Peter jumped from the box and overtook her. He was first upon the spot. The waggon-shed roof was a blazing mass; the straw pile beneath it was sending up a stifling48 cloud of blue smoke, and the dry surrounding grass was crackling in a swiftly widening circle. But in the centre of the conflagration49 there still remained a little oasis50 of green, where a young willow sapling rose defiantly51 from the flames. And as the smoke blew momentarily to one side, the writhing52 figure of Augustus came to view lashed53 firmly to the tree trunk, his hands above his head. With the arrival of spectators he finished struggling and assumed an expression of stoicism that would have done credit to a true Comanche.
"My boy! My boy!" shrieked54 Mrs. Brainard, running forward with outstretched arms, as the smoke again closed around him.
Peter caught her. "Stand back, ma'am. For heaven's sake, stand back! Ye'll ketch yer dress. He ain't hurt none; the fire ain't reached him. I'll save him," and whipping out his knife, Peter dashed into the smoke. He returned three minutes later, a mass of stripes and mingled55 grease kicking in his arms.
Mrs. Brainard, who had closed her eyes preparing to faint, opened them again and looked at Augustus. He was a muddy copper colour with here and there a vivid touch of blue, and he exuded56 a peculiarly blent odour of brass polish and smoke.
"Is—is he dead?" she gasped.
"He's quite lively, ma'am," said Peter, grimly struggling to hold him.
She opened her arms with a sob41 of relief, and received the boy, grease and smoke and all; while the three remaining braves modestly tried to efface57 themselves.
"Robert," said Mrs. Carter, laying a detaining hand on her son's tri-coloured shoulder, "what is the meaning of this outrageous58 affair?"
"We just tied him to the stake and pretended to burn him. And then we sat down to smoke a pipe of peace, and I guess maybe the straw caught fire."
"It did—apparently," said his mother; her tone carried a suggestion of worse to come.
Peter, having hastily organized a fire brigade, succeeded in saving the buckboard and a few of the farming tools, but the building itself was beyond salvation60. The wood was dry and thoroughly61 seasoned, and the feeble stream of water from the garden hose served to increase the smoke rather than to lessen62 the flames. The men finally fell back in a panting circle and watched it burn.
"Gee!" ejaculated Peter, "I'm glad it was the waggon-shed. It might have been the stables."
"Or the house," added Mrs. Carter.
"Or Augustus!" breathed Mrs. Brainard.
The roof fell in with a crash, and the flames leaped up to surround it. A mild cheer broke from the spectators; since there was nothing more to be done, they might as well enjoy the bonfire. The cheer was echoed by an answering shout at the end of the avenue, and a moment later the Sea Garth volunteer hook and ladder company dashed into sight, drawn63 by two foam-covered horses, the firemen still struggling into belated uniforms.
They came to a stand; half a dozen men tore off the nearest ladder and dragged it to the burning building. There, they hesitated dubiously64. It was clearly an impossible feat14 to lean a thirty-foot ladder against a one-story waggon-shed whose roof had fallen in. Their chief, an impressive figure in a scarlet65 shirt and a rubber helmet, advanced to take command. He grasped the painful situation, and for a moment he looked dashed. The next moment, however, he had regained66 his poise67, and announced, in a tone of triumph; "We'll save the stables!"
Mrs. Carter stepped forward with a voice of protest.
"Oh, no, I beg of you! It isn't necessary. The sparks are flying in the other direction. My own men have fortunately been able to cope with the fire, and while I am very much obliged for your trouble, there is no necessity for further aid."
"Madam," said the chief, "the wind is likely to change at any moment, and a single spark falling on that shingle68 roof would sweep away every building on the place. I am sorry to be disobliging, but it is my duty to protect your property." He waved her aside and issued his orders. For the first time in her[Pg 75] life Mrs. Carter found that she was not master on her own place.
Five minutes later half a dozen ladders were resting against the main edifice69 of the stables, while the bucket brigade was happily splashing the contents of the duck pond over the shingle roof.
This precautionary measure was barely under way, when a second shouting and clanging of bells announced the approach of the Sea Garth Volunteer Hose Company No. 1. They did not possess horses and their progress had of necessity been slower. Accompanied by an excited escort of barefooted boys, they swept like a tidal wave across shaven lawns and flowered borders.
"Keep them back! Keep them back!" wailed70 Mrs. Carter, in a sudden access of helplessness. "Peter, William, stop them! Thank them and send them home." She accosted71 the hook and ladder chief. "Tell them it's all over. Tell them that you yourself have already done everything that's necessary."
"Sorry, Mrs. Carter, but it's impossible. There hasn't been a fire in this town for the last three months, and then it was only a false alarm. They're sore enough as it is because we got here first. A little water won't hurt anything; we're in need of rain. You go in the house, Mrs. Carter, and trust to me. I won't let them do any more damage than necessary."
The hose company bore down upon the scene of confusion that surrounded the wrecked72 waggon-shed with an air of pleased expectancy73. Their faces fell as they caught sight of the pitiable size of the fire; but the new chief, with quickly reviving cheerfulness, usurped74 dictatorship, and soon had a generous stream of water playing upon the embers.
Mrs. Carter, with a last plaintive75 appeal to Peter to get rid of them, resumed her natural aloofness76; and she and Mrs. Brainard trailed their smoke-grimed splendour toward the house, driving the vanquished77 braves before them.
When, finally, the last spark was irretrievably dead, the duck pond was nearly dry and everything else was wet, the firemen reloaded their ladders and hose, their buckets and rubber helmets, and noisily trundled away. The Willowbrook contingent78 sat down and mopped their grimy brows.
"Will you look at my flower-beds?" mourned Tom. "Walked right over 'em, they did."
"An' will ye look at the clothes on the line?" cried Nora. "They walked slap through them wid their dir-rty hands."
"Go and look at the carriage-house floor," Peter growled79. "They turned a three-inch stream o' water in at the front door; it looks as if the flood o' Arrerat had struck us. If I ever ketch that lobster80 of a fire chief out alone, I'll teach 'im 'is dooty, I will." He paused to examine his person. "Gee! but I blistered81 me hands." He carried the examination further. "An' these is me best pants," he muttered. "The next time I helps along their innocint divarsions, I'll get me life insured."
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1
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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groom
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| vt.给（马、狗等）梳毛，照料，使...整洁 | |
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placid
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| adj.安静的，平和的 | |
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veranda
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| n.走廊；阳台 | |
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gaily
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| adv.欢乐地，高兴地 | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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buffer
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| n.起缓冲作用的人(或物)，缓冲器；vt.缓冲 | |
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steer
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| vt.驾驶，为…操舵；引导；vi.驾驶 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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whoop
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| n.大叫，呐喊，喘息声；v.叫喊，喘息 | |
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feat
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| n.功绩；武艺，技艺；adj.灵巧的，漂亮的，合适的 | |
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imps
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| n.（故事中的）小恶魔( imp的名词复数 )；小魔鬼；小淘气；顽童 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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gee
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| n.马；int.向右！前进！，惊讶时所发声音；v.向右转 | |
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lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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cherubs
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| 小天使，胖娃娃( cherub的名词复数 ) | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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stiffened
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| 加强的 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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gateway
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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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exuberant
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| adj.充满活力的；（植物）繁茂的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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hoarser
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| （指声音）粗哑的，嘶哑的( hoarse的比较级 ) | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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gallop
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| v./n.(马或骑马等)飞奔；飞速发展 | |
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puffing
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| v.使喷出( puff的现在分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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swarmed
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| 密集( swarm的过去式和过去分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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butted
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| 对接的 | |
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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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untie
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| vt.解开，松开；解放 | |
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sobbed
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| 哭泣，啜泣( sob的过去式和过去分词 )； 哭诉，呜咽地说 | |
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sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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shrill
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| adj.尖声的；刺耳的；v尖叫 | |
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wail
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| vt./vi.大声哀号，恸哭；呼啸，尖啸 | |
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44
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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45
anguish
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| n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦，烦恼 | |
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46
frenzied
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| a.激怒的；疯狂的 | |
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shriek
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| v./n.尖叫，叫喊 | |
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stifling
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| a.令人窒息的 | |
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49
conflagration
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| n.建筑物或森林大火 | |
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50
oasis
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| n.（沙漠中的）绿洲，宜人的地方 | |
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51
defiantly
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| adv.挑战地，大胆对抗地 | |
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52
writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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54
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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exuded
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| v.缓慢流出，渗出，分泌出( exude的过去式和过去分词 )；流露出对（某物）的神态或感情 | |
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efface
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| v.擦掉，抹去 | |
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outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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60
salvation
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| n.（尤指基督）救世，超度，拯救，解困 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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62
lessen
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| vt.减少，减轻；缩小 | |
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63
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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dubiously
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| adv.可疑地，怀疑地 | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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poise
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| vt./vi. 平衡，保持平衡；n.泰然自若，自信 | |
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68
shingle
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| n.木瓦板；小招牌(尤指医生或律师挂的营业招牌)；v.用木瓦板盖（屋顶）；把（女子头发）剪短 | |
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69
edifice
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| n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿，教室) | |
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wailed
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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71
accosted
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| v.走过去跟…讲话( accost的过去式和过去分词 )；跟…搭讪；（乞丐等）上前向…乞讨；（妓女等）勾搭 | |
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72
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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usurped
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| 篡夺，霸占( usurp的过去式和过去分词 )； 盗用； 篡夺，篡权 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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aloofness
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| 超然态度 | |
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vanquished
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| v.征服( vanquish的过去式和过去分词 )；战胜；克服；抑制 | |
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contingent
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| adj.视条件而定的；n.一组，代表团，分遣队 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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lobster
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| n.龙虾，龙虾肉 | |
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81
blistered
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| adj.水疮状的，泡状的v.（使）起水泡( blister的过去式和过去分词 )；（使表皮等）涨破，爆裂 | |
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