The shower had lifted and was moving away down the valley, a gray mist of rain with a slowly following flood of sunshine. Oliver got up and said without enthusiasm:
"We must go now, we have an errand we must do. Come along, Janet."
She rose to go with him but looked back wistfully several times as she went, with lagging feet, down the hill. She had wished that the story might last forever, so that she need not face Anthony Crawford at the end of it.
They said nothing to each other as they climbed into the car and threaded the twisting lanes and byroads that would take them to the house they sought. Oliver was rehearsing within himself what he should say when they presented the picture. "My sister carried this away by mistake, we thought that we should return it to you as soon as possible.
"And then he will say something sharp and unkind, and I won't know what to answer," he reflected drearily1. "I will want to say that I am sure it isn't his anyway and that Janet did well to take it, even by accident. But what is the use of stirring up more trouble? Well, I can only explain and then get away as quickly as we can."
It is probable that Janet, who sat by him in low-spirited silence, was really suffering less than he. Oliver had undertaken the responsibility of returning the picture, and Oliver was a dependable boy who could manage it far better than she could. She thought little of what was to be said or done and was only anxious to have the affair over.
They left the car in the lane and walked together toward the sagging2 gate. A man was just coming through it, who proved, as they came near, to be John Massey. His good-natured, friendly face was pale under its sunburn and drawn3 into unfamiliar4 lines of anger and despair.
"Mr. Peyton sent me the money to settle up my rent," he told them, "and I came up here to pay it and arrange about leaving. Crawford wants me to stay until the first of the month, but I am going to-day. He has never stocked the farm with the tools and machinery5 a landlord is supposed to furnish, so I've bought them myself, what I could, and now he says they are his. He wants to know how I can prove that I paid for them, when every one knows that it was his place to do it. He laughed at me when I said it would ruin me entirely6. He said one man's gain was always from another man's loss. I vow7 there is the spirit of a devil in him."
He looked back at the house among the trees, clenching8 his big hands and muttering to himself in helpless fury.
"He just stood there grinning, even guessing my thoughts, for he said, 'You could knock me down, I know, but it would be no satisfaction to you, for I would get back at you through the law. It would cost you more than it is worth, John Massey.' It was what I knew was true myself, so I kept my hands off him and came away."
"Get into the car and wait for us," Oliver directed at last. "We will take you home when we have finished here. We won't stay long."
"You won't want to," observed John Massey bitterly. "He is in a famous bad temper."
They went through the gate with Janet's steps lagging more than ever. There was something almost uncanny about a man who could cause such misery10 to other people and yet go unscathed himself. They saw him almost immediately as they came up the path. He had been cutting down some weeds in the neglected field and was standing11 in the middle of it, close beside the scarecrow. He did not move, but waited for them to come close, evidently meditating12 what he could say that would hurt and anger them the most. He began to speak the moment they came near, giving Oliver no opening for what he had meant to say:
"So Jasper Peyton, having sent one of you to steal my picture, has lost courage and sent two of you to bring it back again. Very clever, very clever of him indeed!"
"He knew nothing about it," Janet was beginning passionately13, when Oliver silenced her by a touch on her shoulder.
"He knows that," he reminded her calmly; "he is only trying to make you angry."
He caught a look of smoldering14 fury in Anthony Crawford's eye and a note of surprised irritation15 in his voice.
"Well," the man snapped, "am I to have my property or not?"
"You are to have it. We will not keep anything that you even claim as yours," returned Oliver.
He felt hot rage surging up within him, yet he strove to keep it down. He had realized, of a sudden, that this man who could hurt his Cousin Jasper so deeply, who could ruin John Massey, could harm neither him nor Janet in the least. Oliver had felt real dread16 as he came through the gate, he had been haunted by the vague terror of what Anthony Crawford might be able to do, but he looked upon him now with disillusioned17 eyes, knowing him for nothing but a small-minded, selfish, spiteful man whose power over them was nothing at all.
"If I can only keep as calm as he can, he will never get the better of me," the boy thought desperately18 as he struggled with his own rising tide of anger.
"Perhaps you would be glad to have me establish my real rights," said Crawford. "You would like to have it brought up in court, perhaps, how your sister was found going through my possessions, and how she happened, quite by chance, of course, to select the most portable and valuable article in my house and carry it away with her. She would like, I am sure, to have public opportunity to make all that quite plain."
Oliver heard Janet's gasp19 of panic-stricken horror, but he still, by a great effort, retained his own presence of mind.
"We are not afraid of you," he asserted, looking straight into the other's narrow, shifting eyes. "I am nearly as big as you and I could roll you over and over in the mud of this wet field, only that would give you the legal hold on me that is just what you wish. You can't do us any real harm, no matter what you pretend. I don't believe you have anything behind those threats you make to Cousin Jasper, I don't think you believe in your claims yourself. You're a bluff20; like this scarecrow here, you're nothing but a bogy man, stuffed with straw!"
He caught the scarecrow by the shoulder, venting21 his rage upon the helpless bundle of rags, shaking it even out of its ridiculous resemblance to its master, until it fell to bits about his feet. He flung down the miniature upon the heap of rags and, followed by Janet, walked away across the field. Anthony Crawford stood looking after him, never offering a word. When Oliver reached the path he became aware that John Massey was leaning over the gate, grinning in half-terrified delight. The rain was beginning to fall steadily22 again as they came out into the lane and climbed into the car.
It rained all of the afternoon, but ceased at nightfall, just in time, so Janet said, "to keep Mrs. Brown from nervous prostration23." Oliver could not quite understand how plump, comfortable Mrs. Brown could be threatened with such a malady24, for he had forgotten that next day there was to be a much heralded25 outing for all the members of Cousin Jasper's household. The occasion was a celebration at the next village, a glorified26 edition of the ordinary country fair in which farmers, summer visitors, and the residents of the bigger estates were all accustomed to take part. A magnificent affair it was to be with exhibitions, merry-go-rounds, peanut and lemonade stands, motor races, a horse show—something to please the taste of every variety of person. It was Cousin Jasper's custom to give the whole staff of servants a holiday for the festival, although the cook usually waited to serve an early lunch and Mrs. Brown came home before the others, to set out a late supper. No influence on earth could ever persuade Cousin Jasper to attend one of these merrymakings, but every other person under his roof was absorbed in looking forward to the great day of the summer. Elaborate preparations had been made and all that was now in question was the weather, for to make such an event a success it seemed absolutely necessary to have one of those clear, blazing-hot days that seem specially27 to belong to circuses, fairs, and midsummer festivals.
Janet was to go under the safe, but excited, wing of Mrs. Brown, and Oliver, also, was looking forward to the day with some anticipation28.
"I wonder if the Beeman and Polly will be there," he thought, and went off into further speculation29 as to what the Beeman would look like in the more civilized30 clothes that such an occasion would demand. "I might not even know him," he reflected.
When the day came, however, cloudless, hot, just what such a day should be, Oliver suddenly announced that he was not going.
"I don't like to leave Cousin Jasper all alone when he is so worried," he said to Janet, but could not explain why there should be any cause for misgiving31. "I didn't care a great deal about going anyway." He refused to listen to her suggestion that she should stay also.
Lines of motors were rolling down the road from early morning onward32, filled with flannel-coated or befrilled holiday makers33 or laden34 with farmers and farmers' wives and farmers' children. Janet and Mrs. Brown, the one an excited flutter of white organdie skirts, the other a ponderous35 rustle36 of tight brown taffeta, departed at ten o'clock and by one the great house was empty of all save Oliver and Cousin Jasper.
The afternoon seemed very still and very long, as one hour followed another. Oliver strolled out to the gate and stood looking down the road, but the procession of motors had long since come to an end, so that the highway stretched, white and empty, to the far end of the valley. Yet as he stood, idly staring out in the hot quiet, he thought that he saw a small, dilapidated vehicle come round a distant turn and advance slowly toward him. When it was near enough for him to recognize the old white horse, the driver pulled up suddenly, turned the cart sharply about in the road, and rattled37 away in the direction from which he had come. Could it be that he had seen the boy there in the open gate, and therefore had decided38 not to come in? Oliver could scarcely believe that this was the reason.
An hour later, when he had gone back to the house, he saw a ragged39, barefoot youth in faded overalls40 come shuffling41 up the drive. He delivered to Oliver a letter addressed to Cousin Jasper and said it was "from Mr. Crawford and he was to be sure to get an answer."
Oliver carried it away to the study and stood waiting, looking out through the window, while Cousin Jasper should read it and write a reply. The brightness of the holiday weather seemed to be growing dim somehow; the sun was still shining but with a touch of greenish, unreal light.
"I hope there isn't going to be a storm," he thought. His reflections were interrupted by a sound in the room behind him; Cousin Jasper was tearing the letter sharply to pieces.
"Anthony has sent what he calls an ultimatum," he said, trying to smile and not succeeding. "Tell the boy there is no answer."
The messenger, on being so informed, seemed reluctant to believe it.
"He said I must have one, not to come back without it," he kept insisting.
How Anthony Crawford had found any one to carry his letter on this day when Medford Valley seemed quite emptied of inhabitants seemed rather a mystery, yet he had not only found one but had impressed him forcibly with the necessity of fulfilling his errand. It was only after he had received a coin from Oliver's pocket and a large apple from the fruit dish in the dining room, that the shabby youth finally decided to go away.
"He said I wasn't to come back without an answer, so if I haven't one I needn't go back at all." He seemed to find this solution of the difficulty an excellent one and went striding away, whistling cheerfully.
Whatever final threat Anthony Crawford's letter had contained, it seemed to be unusually disturbing to Cousin Jasper. Having evidently made up his mind to ignore it, he seemed, just as plainly, to be able to think of nothing else. He seemed unwilling42 to be alone, and yet to be very bad company, for he was restless, silent, and, when Oliver, with an effort, tried to talk of cheerful things, was completely inattentive. They went into the garden at last to see how the flowers were faring. The sunshine was more unreal than ever, and sudden, fitful gusts43 of wind were beginning to stir the trees. They had inspected the flowers and were halfway44 across the lawn on their way to the house when the sun vanished, the wind rose to a roar, and, before they could reach the steps, the blinding rain was upon them.
It was not an ordinary thunderstorm, but one of those sinister45 tempests that occasionally break the tension of a hot summer day. Oliver, inside the hastily closed windows, could see the trees lashing46 helplessly, and could hear them groaning47 and snapping as one great branch after another came crashing to the ground. It was only a few minutes that the furious wind lasted, as it swept across the garden, but it left destruction in its wake. The beds of lilies were drenched48 and flattened49, the smooth lawn was strewn with twigs50 and broken boughs51, half a dozen trees were split, and one huge Lombardy poplar, with a mass of earth and roots turned upward, lay prone52 across the driveway.
It was half past six by Oliver's watch, then seven, then eight. No one had come home. Cousin Jasper was growing more and more restless and overwrought, Oliver was anxious—and hungry. He saw his cousin gather up the fragments of the letter, piece them together for rereading, then fling them from him once more. The boy wandered about aimlessly in the solitude53 of the big house, wishing that this long miserable54 day would reach an end and that Janet and Mrs. Brown would come home. It grew dark and no one returned, although, after a long time, the telephone began to ring.
It was Mrs. Brown's voice, nervous and only half audible, that sounded at the far end. Yes, she and Miss Janet were quite safe, they had been under shelter during the storm, but there had been such damage by the wind that both the railway and the road were blocked. They would not be able to get home for some hours, she feared.
"Could you, Mr. Oliver, just slip down to the kitchen and make poor Mr. Peyton a cup of tea and some toast? It is so bad for him to wait so late for his dinner. You will find the tea in the right-hand cupboard and the butter——"
The unsatisfactory connection cut her off, leaving Oliver standing aghast at her suggestion. "Just slip down to the kitchen," indeed, when he did not even know the way to that region of the house. And make tea! It seemed an utterly55 impossible task.
Through the long vista56 of rooms he could see Cousin Jasper in his study, sitting before his desk, and, fancying himself unseen, suddenly bowing his head in his hands.
"It won't do," thought Oliver determinedly57, "he must have some one to help him, some one that knows more about this wretched business. There is that Cousin Tom he talks about, Eleanor's father. I can't think of any one else. I will send for him."
If he could only have found the Beeman! He even searched the telephone book for the name of Marshall, but found none. And he had never discovered where the Beeman and Polly lived. Yes, the only choice was Cousin Tom.
He got the connection with some difficulty and asked for Mr. Brighton.
"Mr. Brighton is at dinner," returned the smooth voice of a well-trained servant; "he cannot be interrupted."
"But this is very important," insisted Oliver. "I am quite sure that if he knew——"
"My orders are that he is not to be disturbed," was the politely firm answer while the boy raged and fumed58 impotently.
"Then tell him," Oliver directed, "that his cousin, Mr. Jasper Peyton, is in very great trouble and needs to see him as—as soon as he finds it quite convenient."
His voice was trembling with anger and he slammed down the receiver without waiting for a reply.
"There was no use sending for him, after all," he reflected in black discouragement. He was not used to such treatment nor did he think that a man should surround himself with so much ceremony that he could not hear a plea for help. "He is just what Cousin Eleanor's father would be," was his disgusted verdict. "I was a fool to hope for any help there. If it had been the Beeman——"
Never had the house seemed so enormous or so silent as it was to-night. He went out through a swinging door, attempting to find the kitchen, fumbling59 down a passage, feeling in likely places for electric buttons, and not discovering them. He bumped his head against unexpected doors and cupboards, he upset something with a horrifying60 crash in the butler's pantry. At last he found the right door and the proper light switch, and stood in the big, shining white kitchen, looking about him helplessly at all the complicated apparatus61 of cookery, clean, polished, and complete, and utterly useless to him.
"This is no place for a boy," he exclaimed stormily after he had pinched his fingers in a drawer, spilled the water, and produced a roaring, spitting flame in the gas burner that blew up in his face and then went out. After fifteen minutes of miserable effort he at last heard the water boil noisily in the kettle where he had placed water and tea together. He poured out a cupful of the poisonous brew62 and stood regarding it in despair.
"I wish Mrs. Brown would come home," he groaned63. "I'd be glad of any woman, any girl, even Cousin Eleanor."
He had opened a window, for the place was hot and close and through this he could hear, of a sudden, the sound of an automobile64 coming up the drive. He dashed through the dark passage, hurried to the great front door, and flung it open. There was a crunching65 of big wheels on the gravel66 and the snorting of an engine checked suddenly to a stop. It was not Mrs. Brown and Janet, for, though he heard voices, they were not theirs. The car had stopped beyond the fallen tree and some one was coming across the grass—two people, for the voices were a man's and a girl's. Apparently67 Cousin Tom had not stopped to finish his dinner, after all, and he had brought Cousin Eleanor.
"Yes, I'll be glad to see even her," he thought desperately.
The two came nearer, a man in white flannels68, but bareheaded in the hurry of his coming, and a girl in white also. There was something familiar in the swing of those broad shoulders, in the tone of that voice. Yet Oliver stood, blinking stupidly, holding to the side of the door, too dazed to speak when the two stepped out of the dark and came up the steps—the Beeman and Polly.
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1
drearily
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| 沉寂地，厌倦地，可怕地 | |
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sagging
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| 下垂[沉，陷]，松垂，垂度 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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unfamiliar
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| adj.陌生的，不熟悉的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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vow
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| n.誓(言)，誓约；v.起誓，立誓 | |
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clenching
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| v.紧握，抓紧，咬紧( clench的现在分词 ) | |
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miserably
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| adv.痛苦地；悲惨地；糟糕地；极度地 | |
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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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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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meditating
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| a.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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passionately
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| ad.热烈地，激烈地 | |
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smoldering
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| v.用文火焖烧，熏烧，慢燃( smolder的现在分词 ) | |
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irritation
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| n.激怒，恼怒，生气 | |
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dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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disillusioned
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| a.不再抱幻想的，大失所望的，幻想破灭的 | |
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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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gasp
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| n.喘息，气喘；v.喘息；气吁吁他说 | |
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bluff
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| v.虚张声势，用假象骗人；n.虚张声势，欺骗 | |
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venting
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| 消除； 泄去； 排去； 通风 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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prostration
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| n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
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malady
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| n.病，疾病(通常做比喻) | |
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heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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glorified
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| 美其名的，变荣耀的 | |
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specially
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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civilized
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| a.有教养的，文雅的 | |
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misgiving
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕 | |
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onward
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| adj.向前的，前进的；adv.向前，前进，在先 | |
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makers
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| n.制造者，制造商（maker的复数形式） | |
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laden
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| adj.装满了的；充满了的；负了重担的；苦恼的 | |
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ponderous
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| adj.沉重的，笨重的，(文章)冗长的 | |
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rustle
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| v.沙沙作响；偷盗(牛、马等)；n.沙沙声声 | |
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rattled
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| 慌乱的，恼火的 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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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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overalls
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| n.（复）工装裤；长罩衣 | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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42
unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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gusts
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| 一阵强风( gust的名词复数 )； （怒、笑等的）爆发； （感情的）迸发； 发作 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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45
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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46
lashing
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| n.鞭打；痛斥；大量；许多v.鞭打( lash的现在分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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groaning
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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48
drenched
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| adj.湿透的；充满的v.使湿透( drench的过去式和过去分词 )；在某人（某物）上大量使用（某液体） | |
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49
flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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twigs
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| 细枝，嫩枝( twig的名词复数 ) | |
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51
boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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52
prone
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| adj.(to)易于…的，很可能…的；俯卧的 | |
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53
solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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54
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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55
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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56
vista
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| n.远景，深景，展望，回想 | |
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57
determinedly
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| adv.决意地；坚决地，坚定地 | |
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58
fumed
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| 愤怒( fume的过去式和过去分词 )； 大怒； 发怒； 冒烟 | |
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fumbling
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| n. 摸索,漏接 v. 摸索,摸弄,笨拙的处理 | |
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60
horrifying
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| a.令人震惊的，使人毛骨悚然的 | |
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61
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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62
brew
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| v.酿造，调制 | |
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63
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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64
automobile
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| n.汽车，机动车 | |
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65
crunching
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的现在分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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66
gravel
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| n.砂跞；砂砾层；结石 | |
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67
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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68
flannels
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| 法兰绒男裤； 法兰绒( flannel的名词复数 ) | |
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