"I 'll never go down there again, not as long as I live," Fred said with a great deal of savagery2 in his voice. "I wonder what became of the fireman."
"We 're lucky to get back with whole skins," Joe cheered them philosophically3.
"I guess we left our share, and you more than yours," laughed Charley.
"Yes," Joe answered. "And I 've got more trouble to face when I get home. Good night, fellows."
As he expected, the door on the side porch was locked, and he went around to the dining-room and entered like a burglar through a window. As he crossed the wide hall, walking softly toward the stairs, his father came out of the library. The surprise was mutual4, and each halted aghast.
Joe felt a hysterical5 desire to laugh, for he thought that he knew precisely6 how he looked. In reality he looked far worse than he imagined. What Mr. Bronson saw was a boy with hat and coat covered with dirt, his whole face smeared7 with the stains of conflict, and, in particular, a badly swollen8 nose, a bruised9 eyebrow10, a cut and swollen lip, a scratched cheek, knuckles11 still bleeding, and a shirt torn open from throat to waist.
"What does this mean, sir?" Mr. Bronson finally managed to articulate.
Joe stood speechless. How could he tell, in one brief sentence, all the whole night's happenings?—for all that must be included in the explanation of what his luckless disarray12 meant.
"Have you lost your tongue?" Mr. Bronson demanded with an appearance of impatience13.
"I 've—I 've—"
"Yes, yes," his father encouraged.
"I must confess that you look like it—very much like it indeed." Mr. Bronson spoke15 severely16, but if ever by great effort he conquered a smile, that was the time. "I presume," he went on, "that you do not refer to the abiding-place of sinners, but rather to some definite locality in San Francisco. Am I right?"
Joe swept his arm in a descending17 gesture toward union Street, and said: "Down there, sir."
"And who gave it that name?"
"It 's most appropriate, I 'm sure, and denotes imagination. It could n't really be bettered. You must do well at school, sir, with your English."
This did not increase Joe's happiness, for English was the only study of which he did not have to feel ashamed.
And, while he stood thus a silent picture of misery20 and disgrace, Mr. Bronson looked upon him through the eyes of his own boyhood with an understanding which Joe could not have believed possible.
"However, what you need just now is not a discourse21, but a bath and court-plaster and witch-hazel and cold-water bandages," Mr. Bronson said; "so to bed with you. You 'll need all the sleep you can get, and you 'll feel stiff and sore to-morrow morning, I promise you."
The clock struck one as Joe pulled the bedclothes around him; and the next he knew he was being worried by a soft, insistent22 rapping, which seemed to continue through several centuries, until at last, unable to endure it longer, he opened his eyes and sat up.
The day was streaming in through the window—bright and sunshiny day. He stretched his arms to yawn; but a shooting pain darted23 through all the muscles, and his arms came down more rapidly than they had gone up. He looked at them with a bewildered stare, till suddenly the events of the night rushed in upon him, and he groaned24.
The rapping still persisted, and he cried: "Yes, I hear. What time is it?"
"Eight o'clock," Bessie's voice came to him through the door. "Eight o'clock, and you 'll have to hurry if you don't want to be late for school."
"Goodness!" He sprang out of bed precipitately25, groaned with the pain from all his stiff muscles, and collapsed26 slowly and carefully on a chair. "Why did n't you call me sooner?" he growled27.
"Father said to let you sleep."
Joe groaned again, in another fashion Then his history-book caught his eye, and he groaned yet again and in still another fashion.
"All right," he called. "Go on. I 'll be down in a jiffy."
He did come down in fairly brief order; but if Bessie had watched him descend18 the stairs she would have been astounded28 at the remarkable29 caution he observed and at the twinges of pain that every now and then contorted his face. As it was, when she came upon him in the dining-room she uttered a frightened cry and ran over to him.
"What 's the matter, Joe?" she asked tremulously. "What has happened?"
"But surely—" she began.
"Please don't bother me," he interrupted. "I 'm late, and I want to eat my breakfast."
And just then Mrs. Bronson caught Bessie's eye, and that young lady, still mystified, made haste to withdraw herself.
Joe was thankful to his mother for that, and thankful that she refrained from remarking upon his appearance. Father had told her; that was one thing sure. He could trust her not to worry him; it was never her way.
And, meditating31 in this way, he hurried through with his solitary32 breakfast, vaguely33 conscious in an uncomfortable way that his mother was fluttering anxiously about him. Tender as she always was, he noticed that she kissed him with unusual tenderness as he started out with his books swinging at the end of a strap34; and he also noticed, as he turned the corner, that she was still looking after him through the window.
But of more vital importance than that, to him, was his stiffness and soreness. As he walked along, each step was an effort and a torment35. Severely as the reflected sunlight from the cement sidewalk hurt his bruised eye, and severely as his various wounds pained him, still more severely did he suffer from his muscles and joints36. He had never imagined such stiffness. Each individual muscle in his whole body protested when called upon to move. His fingers were badly swollen, and it was agony to clasp and unclasp them; while his arms were sore from wrist to elbow. This, he said to himself, was caused by the many blows which he had warded37 off from his face and body. He wondered if Brick Simpson was in similar plight38, and the thought of their mutual misery made him feel a certain kinship for that redoubtable39 young ruffian.
When he entered the school-yard he quickly became aware that he was the center of attraction for all eyes. The boys crowded around in an awe-stricken way, and even his classmates and those with whom he was well acquainted looked at him with a certain respect he had never seen before.
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1
mishap
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| n.不幸的事，不幸；灾祸 | |
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savagery
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| n.野性 | |
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philosophically
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| adv.哲学上；富有哲理性地；贤明地；冷静地 | |
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mutual
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| adj.相互的，彼此的；共同的，共有的 | |
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hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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7
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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swollen
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| adj.肿大的，水涨的；v.使变大，肿胀 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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eyebrow
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| n.眉毛，眉 | |
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knuckles
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| n.（指人）指关节( knuckle的名词复数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝v.（指人）指关节( knuckle的第三人称单数 )；（指动物）膝关节，踝 | |
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12
disarray
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| n.混乱，紊乱，凌乱 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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14
blurting
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| v.突然说出，脱口而出( blurt的现在分词 ) | |
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15
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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16
severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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descending
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| n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
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18
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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specified
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| adj.特定的 | |
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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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discourse
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| n.论文，演说；谈话；话语；vi.讲述，著述 | |
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insistent
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| adj.迫切的，坚持的 | |
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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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groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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precipitately
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| adv.猛进地 | |
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collapsed
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| adj.倒塌的 | |
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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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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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34
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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35
torment
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| n.折磨；令人痛苦的东西(人)；vt.折磨；纠缠 | |
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36
joints
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| 接头( joint的名词复数 )； 关节； 公共场所（尤指价格低廉的饮食和娱乐场所） （非正式）； 一块烤肉 （英式英语） | |
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warded
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| 有锁孔的，有钥匙榫槽的 | |
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38
plight
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| n.困境，境况，誓约，艰难；vt.宣誓，保证，约定 | |
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39
redoubtable
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| adj.可敬的；可怕的 | |
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