DRIP! drip! drip! that was the sound that woke Sister Julia the next Saturday morning. It was the splash of water dropping from the eaves of the cottage on to the tin roof below. As soon as she heard it she gave a little half sigh, for what did it foretell1 but a rainy Saturday? and a rainy Saturday in that little cottage was likely to prove rather a sorry affair. In the first place it was a small cottage at any time, and doubly so on a rainy holiday, when three restless children must find their amusement within doors. In the second place, these three little people had a fashion of regarding a rainy Saturday as a sort of personal grievance2, and accordingly indulged in considerable fretfulness.
On this particular morning Master Harry4 Murray hearing the ominous5 splashing, tumbled out of bed and flattened6 his gloomy little face against the pane7.
“Is it raining?” called Nan, in a most woe-begone voice, from her bed in her own room.
“Raining? I should think so!” Harry called back. “It's raining cats and dogs, and it is not going to stop for a minute all day. Besides, there's an awful fog. It's pretty hard lines, it strikes me, to study all the week with the sun shining bright, and then have it rain on your only holiday. I just wish I could have the managing of things in this old world for a while.”
“I don't, then,” called Nan; “it would be an awful hard world for girls. You wouldn't think of a thing but just what would please the boys.”
Harry did not hear all of this, for he had flounced back into bed, drawing the blanket tight over his head, as though he meant to stay there for the rest of the day at any rate. Soon certain familiar odours, suggestive of a favourite breakfast, began to steal through his room, and his head gradually appeared above the covers, as though he were debating in his mind whether on the whole it would not be better to get up. A moment later the debate came to an end, for he heard his father's voice, and pricking8 up his ears it was easy enough to hear what he was saying.
“Look here, mother!” were the words that reached him, “the next time Harry is so late to breakfast he must go without it; I mean it, mother. The boy seems to be losing all regard for discipline. You can't manage a boy without discipline, no more'n a crew.”
So it was not strange that Harry no longer questioned the advisability of getting up, but springing out of bed and dressing9 in a jiffy managed to put in an appearance at the table just as everyone else had finished. Mrs. Murray dropped some cakes on the griddle especially for him, and the lazy little fellow fared much better than he deserved. Mrs. Murray had a very soft spot in her heart for this only boy of hers, and Captain Murray's threat that another time Harry should go fasting set that soft spot to aching, and made her anxious to fortify10 him against such an emergency by heaping his plate high on this particular morning.
“Now I propose,” said Sister Julia, after breakfast, when the children were moping and growling11 in the sitting-room12, “that we have regular lessons to-day, and then you can take the first clear day as a holiday instead.”
“No, sir-ree,” answered Harry, decidedly. “You don't catch me studying on Saturday for nobody.”
He felt rather ashamed of this speech as soon as it was uttered, but this was not a day when he was going to ask any one's pardon, not he—not even Sister Julia's, though he was very fond of her.
“You ought to be made to study every moment till you learn enough grammar to know that you ought never to use two negatives in one sentence,” said Regie, indignant at the way in which Harry had spoken.
“What do you say to that proposition yourself, Regie?” asked Sister Julia. .
“Well, to tell the truth, I don't feel much like it,” said Regie; “my head aches a little.”
“And mine aches like everything,” and Nan threw herself on to the lounge and plunged14 her face into the sofa pillow, as though smothering15 itself were preferable to life on a rainy Saturday.
“Oh, dear me! what a disconsolate16 little trio,” cried Sister Julia; “the wisest thing doubtless for me to do will be to take refuge in my own room and write some letters. When your troubles grow insupportable, come up, and we'll all try to be as miserable17 as possible together.”
In their hearts that little trio must have felt very much ashamed of themselves, but they continued to mope and fret3 for another hour. By this time Mrs. Murray had gotten through with her morning work, and notwithstanding the rain, had gone in the buggy with Captain Murray to take some milk and fresh eggs to a sick woman down at the Branch.
“Oh, look here!” called Harry, wandering into the kitchen, and discovering that he was monarch18 of all he surveyed, “we've got everything to ourselves, we ought to have a regular good time, and do something unusual.”
“Let's play tag through the doors,” cried Nan, proposing a game they were seldom allowed to indulge in because of the general disturbance19 and racket.
“No,” said his little Royal Highness, in an authoritative20 way, “we'll have private theatricals21. We'll act out a play,” he added, when he saw by Nan's puzzled frown that she did not quite take in his idea.
“Good for you!” cried Harry, “that'll be the greatest fun. But oh! what do you suppose?” he exclaimed, suddenly lowering his voice to an excited whisper,—“crouch22! crouch down, both of you; this way, close to the window.”
“What—what is it, Harry?” Nan asked, frightened at this strange performance, and regarding Harry in much the same dazed, sympathetic fashion as she had watched her little kitten endure the horrors of a fit the day before.
Oh! that was it, the Croxsons were coming! Regie and Nan quickly obeyed Harry's order.
“The whole five,” Harry answered, hopelessly; “but I don't believe they can see any of us, and if Sister Julia only does not hear them knock, and come down, they'll go away again and think no one's at home. Now, don't let's say a word.”
There was the patter of two pairs of little feet without, and the scuffle of three pairs of others, and then there came a vigorous knocking at the kitchen door, again repeated after an interval25 of a few moments. The children held their breath.
“Guess they're all out,” they heard Joe Croxson say, disconsolately26.
“I think it's kind of mean to keep them out in the pouring rain,” Nan whispered.
“And I know it is,” answered Regie. “I say, let 'em in,” and it was no sooner said than done.
Immediately the Croxsons crowded in after the manner of a rubber ball which may be forced through a very small aperture27. They all contrived28 somehow or other to get through the door at once, but straightway spread out into so large a company that one could but wonder how they had managed it. None of them spoke13 a word till they were safely within doors, evidently deeming conversation of no importance in comparison with simply “getting in.”
“We made up our minds you were all out,” said Joe Croxson, at last, while the family were in the process of removing damp-smelling outer garments.
“We thought we'd fool you a while,” Harry answered, with a nonchalant air.
The Croxsons were too glad to have gained entrance to take such treatment much to heart. “We've c-c-come to spend the morning, and stay to d-d-dinner, if you want us,” said little Madge, who stuttered dreadfully.
“I'm pretty sure it won't be convenient to have you stay to dinner,” said Nan, who no sooner beheld30 the shabby little Croxsons disposing themselves about the room with a permanent air, than with charming inconsistency she straightway regretted her noble impulse to let them all in. That they were a shabby little company no one could for a moment deny. The three girls, the youngest little more than a baby, each wore a ragged31 dress, and for an out-of-door wrap a faded and colourless strip, which collectively had once formed a shawl of their mother's.
The mother herself had died five years ago, and since then the children had managed for themselves as best they could. Their father was fireman on one of the engines belonging to the local road that ran through Moorlow, and the children were alone from morning till night. A poor woman came in every morning to cook their oatmeal and “tidy up,” but being poorly paid, the tidying up was always hasty, and never thorough. They were rather a stupid-looking set of children, and no wonder! You would hardly expect to find much that was bright in their faces, with so little brightness in their lives; besides, none of them had ever been to school, and Joe, who was the oldest of them all, knew little more than his letters, although he had passed his eleventh birthday. Everyone felt sorry for the Croxsons; and no doubt they would have fared better in one of the large cities, where they would have been reached by some of the organised charities, than in a little place like Moorlow. The rich people, who came in the summer in search of rest and refreshment32, did not interest themselves in the villagers, and the villagers themselves were mostly hard-working fishermen with little time or money to devote to others. Had it not been for the Murrays the Croxsons would surely have fared much worse. Mrs. Murray did them many a kind turn, and when Madge had a fever the winter before, Harry or Nan had trudged33 backward and forward every day with beef tea or some other nourishing food. So there was one bright spot in their lives after all. Indeed, there was more than one, for born by the sea they loved it dearly, and in warm sunshiny weather they romped34 on the beach the whole day long, keenly enjoying their perfect freedom, and pitying the children obliged to go to school. Nan always spoke of them as the “poor little Croxsons,” and it was this pathetic side of their history which made her second Regie's motion to open the door.
“Of course we can't play that game now, and all our fun is spoiled,” said Harry, seeming to utterly35 disregard the feelings of the Croxsons. Fortunately they were not sensitive, and their stolid36 little faces showed no signs either of pain or resentment37.
“Oh, yes, we can,” answered Regie; “they'll be the audience.”
“The very thing!” cried Nan, enthusiastically. “Now, children,” turning to the Croxsons, “we are going to have a play, and you'll be the audience, won't you?”
Each little Croxson nodded in the affirmative, though they had not the remotest idea what it was they were to be. They were literally38 clay in the hands of the potter when they were at the Murrays'. They did not care what was done with them, or to them, so long as they were simply allowed to stay. Harry fancied the idea of an audience, and preparations were at once begun.
The clothes-horse was converted into scenery by covering it with a green plaid blanket-shawl,' the ironing table was pressed into service as a settee for the audience, and the five Croxsons were packed into it in one tightly wedged row. From the commencement of the performance to its tragic39 end they sat staring in open-eyed astonishment40; for they had never seen anything like it before—nor had any one else, for that matter. The plot of the play beggars description. Suffice it to say that Nan figured as the heroine, with a blue gingham apron41 for a train and a dish towel for a turban. Harry, muffled42 in a red table cover, was terrible as a sort of border ruffian, and Regie played the part of Nan's gallant43 brother. In a greater part of the performance there was so much action, so much rushing on and off the stage, that it was difficult to gain a clear idea of what was really intended; but matters culminated44 in a hand-to-hand scuffle between Harry and Reginald—a wooden spoon and a toasting fork doing service as weapons. Finally Harry succumbed45, and fell to the ground with the rather inelegant exclamation46, “Stabbed! stabbed to the liver!” and Nan falling in a swoon to the floor was enveloped47 in the green plaid shawl, which she accidentally pulled down with her.
“Oh, Harry! why did you give out?” cried Joe Croxson, never more excited in his life.
“It was planned for me to die,” Harry answered, still lying motionless on the floor. “I was Regie's sister's lover, and I'm a fraud and a wretch48.”
The play had lasted almost an hour, and to the great delight of all concerned.
“P-p-please d-d-do it again!” begged little Madge. Rex and Nan were in favour of a repetition, but for Harry the novelty was gone, and novelty was everything with him.
“No, I've had enough,” he said, decidedly, and so the project had to be abandoned. Meanwhile Harry's assertion that it was going to rain all day was fast being contradicted, for it had stopped raining, and now and then the sun shone out bravely through a rift49 in the clouds. With the sunshine came a distaste for indoor fun, and there was a rush for hats and coats preparatory to a rush out into the November air. Nan, with tender thoughtfulness, had hung the Croxsons' wraps on chairs near the fire, and now they were dry, and as fit for use again as it was possible for such sorry clothes to be. At last all were ready, and Regie hurrying to open the door that led to the porch from the kitchen, found it locked and the key gone. The little party stared at each other. Harry was missing, and nowhere to be seen. Of course he was the guilty one. Then there was a stampede for the sitting-room door. Locked, too, and minus the key. A suppressed titter from the head of the stairs made them all look up.
“Come down and give us those keys this minute,” demanded Nan, in a tone most unlikely to accomplish her object. Harry only smiled provokingly. All in vain the children begged and coaxed51. Finally they scrambled52 up the stairs to gain possession of them by main force if possible. Meanwhile Nan, evolving a little scheme out of her own head, slipped into Harry's room, appearing again in a trice with his Sunday suit in her hand. Harry had great regard for that Sunday suit, and Nan knew it.
“Look here, Harry!” she cried, “I will throw this downstairs if you don't give up those keys right away.”
“You dare!” called Harry, still engaged in a scuffle with the boys, “and I know what I'll do.”
Alas53! Nan dared, and the precious suit fell in a crumpled54 mass to the floor below. By a sudden jerk Harry freed himself from his captors, and rushing into Nan's room, dragged pillow and bed-clothes from the bed, and then pitched them over the banisters. In a second they were followed by bolster56 and mattress57. The little Crox-sons and Regie looked on in speechless astonishment The general encounter had reduced itself to single combat between Harry and Nan.
“Well!” said Nan, “mother will soon be home, and then we'll see what will happen. Harry Preston Murray” (Nan always called Harry by his full name when out of patience with him), “you have an awful temper!”
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“I'll teach you not to touch my clothes again, any way,” Harry answered, carefully shaking and folding the precious trousers.
“But you don't know when to stop, Harry,” sighed Nan, coming down the stairs and surveying the havoc58 wrought59 with real dismay. What would her mother say and do about it? Harry began to have some misgivings60 of his own on the subject.
“You will have to carry all those things up again,” she said, in a half-pleading tone.
“And I'll help you, though you ought to be made to do it all yourself,” added Regie.
Harry came to the conclusion that he would have to carry them up again sooner or later, and deemed it wise to commence before any one arrived on the scene. Besides, there was an ominous sound of wheels down the road. It might be Captain and Mrs. Murray. Joe Croxson had his own fears regarding this possibility, and beckoning61 his brothers and sisters into a corner, confided62 to them that he thought they had better take their departure. “There's going to be a row,” he whispered, “when the old 'uns come home. Harry 'll catch it, and if we don't look out we'll catch it too.” To the little Croxsons a hint was sufficient. Owing to certain personal experiences of a painful character, they seemed to live in a constant dread29 of what they termed “catching it.” The keys had fallen from Harry's pocket in the confusion, and hurriedly unlocking the door, the whole five slipped out and stole noiselessly away, without so much as saying “by your leave,” or “good-bye,” either to host or hostess. Harry and Rex and Nan, toiling63, tugging64, and shoving the unwieldy mattress upstairs, did not miss them till many minutes afterward65. Indeed, they were each too much absorbed with their own thoughts to notice anything. Regie was the only one who saw any funny side to the proceeding66, and the corners of his mouth twitched67 a little. Nan was on the verge68 of actual tears. The sight of her dainty little pillow shams69 and coverlid so sadly rumpled55 was almost too much for her. Harry was indignant over having to undo70 his own mischief71, and did everything in a jerky, disagreeable way. Finally the little bed was in some sort of order, but as Nan was adjusting the pillow, Harry, giving her a shove which sent her into the middle of the bed, exclaimed, “You are enough to try the patience of a saint, Nan!”
It needed nothing more to bring Nan's threatening tears to the surface, and lying just where Harry had pushed her, she burst into sobs72 and tears. If there was one thing Harry hated more than another it was to have Nan cry, and to add to his discomfort73 Sister Julia came hurrying into the room. She had heard the romping74 in the hall, but never dreamed that it needed investigation75 till Nan's crying reached her.
“Why, what is the matter?” she questioned.
“There's a great deal the matter,” Regie replied, calmly; “and I should think Harry would be ashamed of himself.”
“Nan began it,” said Harry, with Adam-like self-excusing. “Harry got so mad,” explained Regie, excitedly, “that he threw——
“Wait a minute, Regie, let Harry tell me himself.”
“Yes, I got so mad,” said Harry, using Regie's own words, “that I took everything from Nan's bed and pitched it downstairs. Nan threw my Sunday suit down first, or I would never have thought of it. But I helped bring all the clothes up again, so I don't see what she wants to cry about it now for.”
“I am not crying about that at all, Sister Julia,” sobbed76 Nan, without raising her head; “I'm crying because he said 'I was enough to try the patience of a saint.' I don't know what it means, but I think it's an awful unkind thing for a brother to say.”
Sister Julia could hardly keep from smiling at this unexpected turn of affairs. Harry and Regie laughed outright77, which did not help matters much.
Sister Julia motioned the boys from the room, and sitting down by Nan, on the side of the bed, stroked the brown curls till the sobs grew few and far between. Then she explained that “she was enough to try the patience of a saint” was not such a very dreadful thing for Harry to have said, and finally induced Nan to admit, smiling through her tears, that both she and Harry were to blame, and that on the whole they had had rather a funny time of it Presently Captain and Mrs. Murray came home, finding everything in order about the house. Only you and Sister Julia, little reader, ever heard the full history of that rainy Saturday morning.
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1
foretell
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| v.预言，预告，预示 | |
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grievance
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| n.怨愤，气恼，委屈 | |
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fret
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| v.(使)烦恼；(使)焦急；(使)腐蚀，(使)磨损 | |
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harry
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| vt.掠夺，蹂躏，使苦恼 | |
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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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flattened
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| [医]（水）平扁的，弄平的 | |
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pane
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| n.窗格玻璃，长方块 | |
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pricking
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| 刺，刺痕，刺痛感 | |
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dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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fortify
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| v.强化防御，为…设防；加强，强化 | |
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growling
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| n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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13
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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14
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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smothering
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的现在分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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disconsolate
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| adj.忧郁的，不快的 | |
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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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monarch
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| n.帝王，君主，最高统治者 | |
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disturbance
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| n.动乱，骚动；打扰，干扰；(身心)失调 | |
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authoritative
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| adj.有权威的，可相信的；命令式的；官方的 | |
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theatricals
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| n.（业余性的）戏剧演出，舞台表演艺术；职业演员；戏剧的( theatrical的名词复数 )；剧场的；炫耀的；戏剧性的 | |
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crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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prostrate
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| v.拜倒，平卧，衰竭；adj.拜倒的，平卧的，衰竭的 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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disconsolately
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| adv.悲伤地，愁闷地；哭丧着脸 | |
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aperture
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| n.孔，隙，窄的缺口 | |
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contrived
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| adj.不自然的，做作的；虚构的 | |
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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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beheld
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| v.看，注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 )；瞧；看呀；（叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现）哎哟 | |
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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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refreshment
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| n.恢复，精神爽快，提神之事物；（复数）refreshments:点心，茶点 | |
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trudged
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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romped
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| v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的过去式和过去分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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stolid
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| adj.无动于衷的，感情麻木的 | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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apron
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| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
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muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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gallant
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| adj.英勇的，豪侠的；(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
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culminated
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| v.达到极点( culminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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succumbed
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| 不再抵抗（诱惑、疾病、攻击等）( succumb的过去式和过去分词 )； 屈从； 被压垮； 死 | |
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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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enveloped
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wretch
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| n.可怜的人，不幸的人；卑鄙的人 | |
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rift
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| n.裂口，隙缝，切口；v.裂开，割开，渗入 | |
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50
giggled
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| v.咯咯地笑( giggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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53
alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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54
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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rumpled
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| v.弄皱，使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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56
bolster
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| n.枕垫；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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mattress
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| n.床垫，床褥 | |
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58
havoc
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| n.大破坏，浩劫，大混乱，大杂乱 | |
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wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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60
misgivings
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| n.疑虑，担忧，害怕；疑虑，担心，恐惧( misgiving的名词复数 )；疑惧 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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62
confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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63
toiling
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| 长时间或辛苦地工作( toil的现在分词 )； 艰难缓慢地移动，跋涉 | |
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64
tugging
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| n.牵引感v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的现在分词 ) | |
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65
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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67
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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68
verge
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| n.边，边缘；v.接近，濒临 | |
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69
shams
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| 假象( sham的名词复数 )； 假货； 虚假的行为（或感情、言语等）； 假装…的人 | |
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undo
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| vt.解开，松开；取消，撤销 | |
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71
mischief
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| n.损害，伤害，危害；恶作剧，捣蛋，胡闹 | |
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72
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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discomfort
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| n.不舒服，不安，难过，困难，不方便 | |
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74
romping
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| adj.嬉戏喧闹的，乱蹦乱闹的v.嬉笑玩闹( romp的现在分词 )；（尤指在赛跑或竞选等中）轻易获胜 | |
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investigation
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| n.调查，调查研究 | |
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76
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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outright
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| adv.坦率地；彻底地；立即；adj.无疑的；彻底的 | |
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