Between filling the wood-box and looking after the weather and keeping a casual eye on the widows and the fatherless, Uncle William had a full winter. He was not a model housekeeper5 at best, and ten o’clock of winter mornings often found him with breakfast dishes unwashed and the floor unswept. Andy, coming in for his daily visit, would cast an uncritical eye at the frying-pan, and seat himself comfortably by the stove. It did not occur to either of them, as Uncle William pottered about, finishing the dishes, that Andy should take a hand. Andy had women folks to do for him.
As the winter wore on, letters came from the artist—sometimes gay and full of hope sometimes a little despondent6. Uncle William read the letters to Andy, who commented on them according to his lights. “He don’t seem to be makin’ much money,” he would say from time to time. The letters revealed flashes of poverty and a kind of fierce struggle. “He’s got another done,” Uncle William would respond: “that makes three; that’s putty good.” Andy had ceased to ask about the money for the boat—when it was coming. He seemed to have accepted the fact that there would never be any, as placidly7 as William himself. If there was dawning in his mind the virtuous8 resolve to help out a little when the time came, no one would have guessed it from the grim face that surveyed Uncle William’s movements with a kind of detached scorn. Now and then Andy let fall a word of advice as to the best way of adjusting a tin on the stove, or better methods for cleaning the coffee-pot. Sometimes Uncle William followed the advice. It generally failed to work.
It was late in the winter that Andy appeared one morning bringing a letter from the artist. Uncle William searched for his spectacles and placed them on his nose with a genial9 smile.
Andy had not relinquished10 the letter. “I can read it for ye,” he volunteered.
“I can read it all right now, Andy, thank ye.” Uncle William reached out a hand for it.
Andy’s fingers relaxed on it grudgingly11. He had once or twice been allowed to open and read the letters in the temporary absence of Uncle William’s spectacles. He found them more entertaining than when Uncle William read them. He privately12 suspected him of suppressing bits of news.
Uncle William looked up from the lines with pleased countenance13. “Now, that’s good. He’s finished up five on ’em.”
“Five what?”
“Picters,” responded Uncle William, spelling it out slowly. “There’s one of my house,”—lofty pride held the voice,—“and one of the cove14 down below, and two up by the end of old Bodet place, and one on the hill, this side of your place. Now, that’s quite a nice lot, ain’t it?”
“What’s he going to do with ’em,” asked Andy.
“There’s a kind of exhibit goin’ on.” Uncle William consulted the letter. “‘The Exhibition of American Artists’—suthin’ like a fair, I take it. And he’s goin’ to send ’em.”
“Thinks he’ll take a prize, I s’pose.” Andy’s tone held fine scepticism.
“Well, I dunno. He don’t say nuthin’ about a prize. He does kind o’ hint that he’ll be sendin’ me suthin’ pretty soon. I guess likely there’ll be prizes. He o’t to take one if there is. He made fust-rate picters, fust-rate—”
“Well, mebbe not—mebbe not. Want a game of checkers, Andy?”
“I don’t care,” sullenly17. Uncle William brought out the board and arranged the pieces with stiff fingers.
“It’s your move, Andy.”
Andy drew up to the table and reached out a hand. . . . The spirit of the game descended19 upon him. He pushed forward a man with quick fingers. “Go ahead.”
Uncle William took time. His fingers hovered20 here and there in loving calculation. At last he lifted the piece and moved it slowly forward.
“Same move you al’ays make,” said Andy, contemptuously.
“Sometimes I beat that way, don’t I?”
“And sometimes you don’t.” Andy shoved forward another piece. The quick movement expressed scorn of dawdlers.
Uncle William met it mildly. He set his man in place with slow care.
Andy paused. He snorted a little. He bent21 above the board, knitting his forehead. His hand reached out and drew back. The fingers reached out and drew back. The fingers drummed a little on the edge of the board.
Uncle William, leaning forward, a hand on either knee, beamed on him benignantly.
Andy shifted a little in his chair. “You’re going to get into trouble,” he said warningly, “if you move that way.”
“Like enough, like enough. I gen’ally do. Is it my move?”
“No,” growled22 Andy. He returned to the board. The game was on in earnest. Now and then Andy grunted24 or moved a leg, and once or twice Uncle William arose to put more wood into the glowing stove. But he did it with the gaze of a sleep-walker. Outside the wind had risen and dashed fiercely against the little house. Neither man lifted his head to listen. Their hands reached mechanically to the pieces. They jumped men and placed them one side with impassive faces. The board was clearing fast. Only seven men remained. Andy moved forward a piece with a swift flourish. He gave a little growl23 of triumph.
Uncle William studied the board. At last, with a heavy sigh, he lifted a piece and moved it cautiously.
Andy made the counter move in triumphant25 haste. “King,” he announced.
Uncle William covered the man, a little smile dawning in his eye. He looked at the pieces affectionately. A chuckle26 sounded somewhere in the room.
Uncle William leaned back, nodding at him with genial meaning. A little conscious triumph flavored the nod.
Andy shoved back from the board. “Well, why don’t you take it? Take it if you’re goin’ to, and don’t set there cackling!”
“Why, Andy!” Uncle William moved the man mildly.
Andy shoved the counter in place with scornful touch.
Uncle William moved again.
Andy got up, looking sternly for his hat.
“Can’t you stay to dinner, Andy?”
“No.”
“I was goin’ to have a little meat.”
“Can’t stay.”
“It’s stormin’ putty hard.”
“I don’t care!” He moved toward the door.
Uncle William took down an oil-skin coat from its peg28. “You better put this on if ye can’t stay. No use in gettin’ wet through.”
Andy put it on and buttoned it up in fierce silence.
Uncle William watched him benignly29. “If ’t was so ’s ’t you could stay, we could play another after dinner—play the rubber. You beat me last time, you know.” He took off the stove-lid and peered in.
Andy’s eye had relaxed a little under its gloom. “When you goin’ to have dinner?” he asked.
“I was thinkin’ of havin’ it putty soon. I can have it right off if you’ll stay—must be ’most time.” He pulled a great watch from its fob pocket and looked at it with absent eye. His gaze deepened. He looked up slowly. Then he smiled—a cheerful smile that took in Andy, the board with its scattered30 checkers, Juno on the lounge, and the whole red room.
“Well, what time is it?” said Andy.
“It’s five minutes to three, Andy. Guess you’d better stay,” said Uncle William.
点击收听单词发音
1 abate | |
vi.(风势,疼痛等)减弱,减轻,减退 | |
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2 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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3 hoarded | |
v.积蓄并储藏(某物)( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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4 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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5 housekeeper | |
n.管理家务的主妇,女管家 | |
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6 despondent | |
adj.失望的,沮丧的,泄气的 | |
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7 placidly | |
adv.平稳地,平静地 | |
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8 virtuous | |
adj.有品德的,善良的,贞洁的,有效力的 | |
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9 genial | |
adj.亲切的,和蔼的,愉快的,脾气好的 | |
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10 relinquished | |
交出,让给( relinquish的过去式和过去分词 ); 放弃 | |
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11 grudgingly | |
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12 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
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13 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
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14 cove | |
n.小海湾,小峡谷 | |
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15 spoke | |
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 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
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17 sullenly | |
不高兴地,绷着脸,忧郁地 | |
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18 callous | |
adj.无情的,冷淡的,硬结的,起老茧的 | |
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19 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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20 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
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21 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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22 growled | |
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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23 growl | |
v.(狗等)嗥叫,(炮等)轰鸣;n.嗥叫,轰鸣 | |
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24 grunted | |
(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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25 triumphant | |
adj.胜利的,成功的;狂欢的,喜悦的 | |
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26 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
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27 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
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28 peg | |
n.木栓,木钉;vt.用木钉钉,用短桩固定 | |
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29 benignly | |
adv.仁慈地,亲切地 | |
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30 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
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