THERE was no doubt whatsoever1 in the mind of the spectator that this caress2, provoked or unprovoked, was not agreeable to its recipient3. The young man was large and heavy and she was minute and probably weak, but the violence of her recoil4 was sufficient to free her within a second.
"'Her strength,'" thought Tucker, "'was as the strength of ten,'" and he hoped it was for the reason alleged5 by the poet.
She stood an instant looking at her visitor, and then she said, in a tone that no well-trained dog would have attempted to disobey:
"Go away. Go home, and please don't ever come back."
Tucker was deeply moved. It is to be feared that he forgot Mrs. Falkener, forgot his plans for his friend's protection, forgot everything except that he had just heard himself described as a hero of romance by a girl of superlative charms; and that that girl had just been the object of the obviously unwelcome attentions of another. He recognized that the stern but sympathetic husband on the stage would instantly have come to the rescue of the weak young wife in any similar situation, and he determined8 on the instant to do so; but he found a slight difficulty in making up his mind as to the particular epigram with which he should enter. In fact, he could think of nothing except, "Ah, Jane-Ellen, is the ice-cream ready?" And that obviously wouldn't do.
While, however, he hesitated above, the dialogue below rushed on, unimpeded.
"The truth is," said the young man, with the violence of one who feels himself at least partially9 in the wrong, "the truth is you are a cold, cruel woman who thinks of nothing but her own amusement; you don't care anything about the sufferings of others, and in my opinion Lily is worth ten of you."
"Then why don't you go and kiss Lily?"
"Because Lily isn't that sort. She wouldn't stand it."
This reply not unnaturally10 angered the cook.
"And do you mean to say I stand it? I can't help it. I'm so horribly small, but if I could, I'd kill you, Randolph, and as it is, I hate you for doing it, hate you more than you have any idea."
"How could I know about your silly lack of self-control?"
"You've always pretended to like me."
"Just what I did—pretended. But I'll never have to pretend again, thank heaven. I don't really like you and I never did—not since we were children."
"You'll be sorry for saying that, when you're calmer."
"I may be sorry for saying it, but I'll think it as long as I live."
"I pity the man who marries you, my girl. You've a bitter tongue."
"You'd marry me to-morrow, if you could."
"I would not."
"You would."
"Not if you were the last woman in the world."
"Good night."
"Good-by."
The culprit seized his hat and rushed away through the shadows before Tucker had time to think put the dignified11 rebuke12 that he had intended.
There was a pause. He was conscious that an opportunity had slipped from him. He knew now what he ought to have said. He should have asked the young fellow—who was clearly a gentleman, far above Jane-Ellen in social position—whether that was the way he would have treated a girl in his own mother's drawing-room, and whether he considered that less chivalry13 was due to a working girl than to a woman of leisure.
Though his great opportunity was gone, he decided14 to do whatever remained. After a short hesitation15 he descended16 a flight of steps at one end of the piazza17. The kitchen opened before him, large and cavernous. Two lamps hardly served to light it. It was red tiled; round its walls hung large, bright, copper18 saucepans, and on shelves of oak along its sides were rows of dark blue and white plates and dishes.
Tucker was prepared to find the cook in tears, in which case he had a perfectly19 definite idea as to what to do; but the disconcerting young woman was moving rapidly about the kitchen, humming to herself. She held a small but steaming saucepan in her hand, which was, as Tucker swiftly reflected, a much better weapon than the handle of an ice-cream freezer.
"Good evening, Jane-Ellen," he said graciously.
"Good evening, sir."
"I wished to speak to you," he said, "about that little incident of this morning. You must not think that I am by nature cruel or indifferent to animals. On the contrary, I am a life member in the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to them. I love animals." And as if to prove his words, he put out his hand and gently pulled the ears of Willoughby, who was asleep in a chair. Cats' ears are extraordinarily21 sensitive, and Willoughby woke up and withdrew his head with a jerk.
Willoughby's mistress, on the other hand, made no reply whatsoever; indeed it would have been impossible to be sure she had heard.
"How different she is," thought Tucker, "in the presence of a man she really respects, and recognizes as her superior. All the levity22 and coquetry disappear from her bearing."
"I was truly sorry," he went on, drawing nearer and nearer to the range, "to have been the occasion—"
"You had better be careful, sir," she said, still without looking at him, "these sauces sometimes boil over." And as she spoke23 she put a spoon into the pan, and the next instant Tucker felt a small but burning drop fall upon his hand. He started back with an exclamation24.
"I am truly sorry, sir," she said, "to have been the occasion—"
He glanced at her sharply. Was she conscious of repeating his own phrase? She seemed to be wholly absorbed in her task. He noticed how prettily25 the hair grew at the back of her neck, how small and well shaped were her ears. His manner became even more protecting.
"I am an older man than your employer—" he began.
"Yes, indeed, sir."
He decided not to notice the interruption.
"I am older and have seen more of life. I understand more, perhaps, of the difficulties of a young, and I must say, beautiful woman, Jane-Ellen—"
"Because it is the truth, my dear child." He again approached the range, but as a fountain instantly rose from the sauce he retreated and continued: "I would like, if any little troubles in the household arise, to know that you look upon me as a friend, both you and Willoughby." (He thought it not amiss to introduce the comic note now and again.) "I have some influence with Mr. Crane. I should be glad to do you a good turn."
"You can do me one now, sir."
"Pray, tell me what it is."
"You can go away and let me get the dinner."
"You want me to go?"
"The kitchen is no place for gentlemen."
Tucker laughed tolerantly.
"Did you think so ten minutes ago?"
For the second time she looked in his direction, as she asked quickly:
"What do you mean?"
"Your last visitor was not so respectful."
She had put down the saucepan now, and so he approached and tried to take her hand.
Perhaps this is as good a time as any other to describe the sensation of taking Jane-Ellen's hand. The ordinary mortal put out an ordinary hand, and touched something, something presumably flesh and blood, but so light, so soft, so pliant27, that it seemed literally28 to melt into the folds of his palm, so that even after the hand had been withdrawn29 (and in this instance it was instantly withdrawn) the feeling seemed to remain, and Tucker found himself staring at his own fingers to see if they did not still bear traces of that remarkable30 contact.
It was just at this moment that Brindlebury entered the kitchen and said, in a tone which no one could have considered respectful, that the motor was coming up the drive.
Tucker was more apt to meet an awkward situation—and the situation was slightly awkward—by an additional dignity of manner rather than by any ill-considered action.
"Ah," he now observed, "in that case I think I must go and meet it."
"I think I would, if I were you," replied the boy, and added to the cook, in case there was any mistake about his meaning: "It seems to me there are too many men in this kitchen in the course of the day."
"Well, goodness knows they're not here to please me," said Jane-Ellen.
Tucker, who understood that this reply had to be made, wished, nevertheless, that she had not made it with such a convincing sincerity31 of manner. He turned and left the kitchen, and, as he went up the piazza stairs, became aware that the boy was following him.
He stood still at the top, therefore, and asked with that hectoring tone which many people think so desirable to use with servants:
"What's this? You wish to speak to me?"
The boy hardly troubled to approximate civility as he answered:
"Yes; I just wanted to tell you that Jane-Ellen is my sister."
Tucker laughed with indulgent good humor.
"Indeed," he said. "Well, I cannot confess, Brindlebury, to taking a very deep interest in your family relations."
"It's this much interest, that I don't want you going into the kitchen to talk to her."
"Tut, tut," said Tucker. "I think I shall have to report you to your employer."
"And I may have to report you."
This was so beyond the bounds of convention that Tucker thought best to ignore it. He merely turned on his heel and walked into the house, where, in the hall, he found the two Falkener ladies taking off their coats.
Mrs. Falkener was all graciousness. She was engaged in unwinding a veil from her face, and as she freed her nose from its meshes32 she said briskly:
"And how is the housekeeping going? How is your staff working?"
Crane got them into the drawing-room, where tea was waiting. Mrs. Falkener spoke to him, but she cast a secret glance of question at Tucker. Under most circumstances he would have replied by raising his eyebrows33, shrugging his shoulders, closing his eyes, or conveying in some manner the true reply to her demand. But now he merely looked into his teacup, which he was diligently34 stirring. He found himself uncertain what to do. He had no intention of mentioning the afternoon's incidents to Crane. He did not wish, he told himself, to tell on a poor young woman, and perhaps deprive her of her job. Besides, it is very difficult to tell a story in which you have been an eavesdropper35, and tell it with any sort of flourish and satisfaction. The geography of the balcony was such that he would have to confess either to having leaned as far over the rail as possible, or else to having been in the kitchen. But the insolence36 of the boy Brindlebury put a new face on the matter. He deserved reproof37, to say nothing of the fact that he might tell in a mistaken desire to protect his sister from annoyance38. To tell any of this to Mrs. Falkener was to put a weapon in her hands which she would not fail to use to get Jane-Ellen out of the house within twenty-four hours. Tucker's first idea was that he did not wish Jane-Ellen to leave the house.
But, as he sat stirring his tea, another thought came to him. Why should she not leave, why should she not become his own cook? Crane, after all, only offered her employment for a few weeks, whereas he—He decided that it would be better for Crane to get rid of her; he decided, as he put it to himself, to be perfectly open with his friend. If Crane turned her out, then he, Tucker, would be there, helpful and ready, like the competent middle-aged39 hero of the drama, whom she herself had so well described.
He joined but little in the conversation round the tea-table, and Mrs. Falkener, watching him narrowly, feared from his gravity that something serious had happened, that the situation was worse than she had imagined. What, she wondered, had occurred in the last twenty-four hours? What had those evil women with manicured nails accomplished40 in her absence? She manœuvered two or three times to get a word with Tucker, but he seemed unconscious of her efforts.
When at last they all agreed it was time to dress for dinner, Tucker laid a detaining hand on his host's arm.
"Could I have just a word with you, Burt?" he said.
Crane always felt like a naughty child when his friend spoke to him like this.
"Wouldn't later do?" he asked. "I want to get a bath before dinner, and if we keep it waiting we may spoil some of those wonderful dishes that star-eyed beauty in the kitchen is preparing for us."
"It is about her I want to speak to you."
Both ladies and Crane turned instantly at these words. Then the Falkeners with a strong effort of self-control left the room, and the two men were alone.
"Well, what is it?" said Crane, rather sharply.
"I'm afraid, after all," he began, sitting down and swinging one leg over the other, "that you won't be able to keep that young person. I'm afraid Mrs. Falkener was right. Women know these things at a glance."
"What things?"
"Why, I mean that in spite of her good dinner, I'm afraid your cook, Burt, is not—Well, I'd better tell you just what is in my mind."
"Surely, if you can," said his host and client.
"I went out for a little while about dusk on the back piazza, which you know is just above the kitchen, and a conversation below is audible there. At first I did not pay much attention to the murmur42 of voices, but gradually I became aware that some one was making love to Jane-Ellen—"
"Who was it?" asked Crane. "That wretched boy? That smug butler?"
"Alas43, no," said Tucker. "If it had been one of the other servants I should not have thought it much harm. Unhappily, it was a young gentleman, a person so much her social superior—Well, my dear fellow, you get the idea."
"No one you knew, of course?"
"I never saw him before."
"How did you see him at all?"
This was the question that Tucker had been anticipating.
"Why, to tell you the truth, Burt," he said, "when I realized what was going on, I thought it my duty for your sake to find out. I looked over the railing—and just at the psychological moment when he kissed her."
Crane was tapping a cigarette thoughtfully on the palm of his hand, and did not at once answer. When he did, he looked up with a smile, and said:
"Lucky dog, is what I say, Tuck."
"I don't think," answered his friend, "that that is quite the right attitude for you to assume."
"What do you think I should do?"
"Dismiss the girl."
Another pause.
"Or," added Tucker, magnanimously, "if you shrink from the interview, I shall be very glad to do it for you."
Crane looked up.
"No, thank you," he said. "I think you have done quite enough. I should not dream of imposing44 upon you further." He walked to the bell and rang it. Smithfield appeared.
"Tell the cook I want to see her," he said.
After a brief absence Smithfield returned.
"I beg pardon, sir," he said, "but the cook says if she leaves dinner now it will be spoiled, and won't after dinner do?"
Crane nodded.
"You know," said Tucker when they were again alone, "it is not always necessary to tell servants why you are dispensing45 with their services. You might say—"
Much to his surprise, Crane interrupted him with a laugh.
"My dear Tuck," he said, "you don't really suppose, do you, that I am going to dismiss that peerless woman just because you saw an ill-mannered fellow kiss her? I shall administer a telling rebuke with a slight sketch46 of my notions on female deportment. It would take more than that to induce me to send her away. Indeed, I was thinking of taking her North with me."
This was a serious suggestion, but Tucker could think of no better way to meet it than to raise his eyebrows; and Crane went off whistling to dress for dinner.
He whistled not only going upstairs, but he whistled in his bath and while he was shaving. The sound annoyed Tucker in the next room.
"It almost seems," he thought, "as if he were glad to see the woman again on any terms." And yet, he, Tucker, knew that she considered Crane quite a commonplace young man—not at all like a hero in the third act.
The way Crane had taken his suggestions was distressing47. Tucker did not feel that he thoroughly48 understood what was in the younger man's mind. His first intention to tell Mrs. Falkener nothing began to fade. It would have been all very well if Burton had been sensible and had been willing to send the cook away and he, Tucker, had been able to engage her, to ignore the whole matter to Mrs. Falkener. Indeed, it would have been hard to explain it. But, of course, if Burton was going to be obstinate49 about it, Mrs. Falkener's aid might be absolutely necessary.
He dressed quickly and was not mistaken in his belief that Mrs. Falkener would have done the same. She was waiting for him in the drawing-room. They had a clear fifteen minutes before dinner.
"Now tell me, my dear Solon," she said, "just what you think of the situation."
"I think badly of it."
"Yes," said Mrs. Falkener, not yet quite appreciating the seriousness of his tone. "I do, myself. That idiotic51 housemaid, Lily—I could have told him that name would never do—hooked me twice wrong, and left my daughter's dirty boots on top of her best tea-gown."
"Ah, if incompetence52 were all we had to complain of!"
"The cook?"
"Is perfection, as far as cooking goes. But in other respect—Really, my dear Mrs. Falkener, I am in doubt whether you should let your daughter stay in this house—at least, until Burton comes to his senses."
"You must tell me just what you mean."
Tucker decided to tell the story reluctantly.
"Why, it happened this afternoon, Burton was away with his horses, and quite by accident I came upon his pretty cook in the arms of a strange young man, a person vastly her social superior, one of the young landholders of the neighborhood, I should say. Seemed to assume the most confident right to be in Burton's kitchen—a man he may know in the hunting field, may have to dinner to-morrow. I don't know who he is, but certainly a gentleman."
"How very unpleasant," said Mrs. Falkener. "Did the woman take in that you had detected her?"
"Yes, and seemed quite unabashed."
"And now I suppose you are hesitating whether or not to tell Burton?"
Tucker was naturally cautious.
"And what would you advise?"
"It is your duty to tell him at once, and get such a person out of the house."
"You think if I told him, he would dismiss her?"
"I am confident he would, unless—"
"Unless?"
"Unless he has himself some interest in her."
"Ah," said Tucker, with a deep sigh, "that's the question."
At this moment Miss Falkener, looking very handsome in a sapphire-colored dress, came in. She, too, perhaps, had expected that somebody would be dressed a little ahead of time for the sake of a few minutes' private talk. If so, she was disappointed.
"Ah, Cora," said her mother brightly, "let us hear how the piano sounds. Give us some of that delightful53 Chopin you were playing last evening."
Cora, to show her independence of spirit, sat down and began to play ragtime54, but neither of her auditors55 noticed the difference.
"You mean," whispered Mrs. Falkener, "that you have reason to suppose that Crane himself—?"
"Why, to be candid56, my dear lady," replied Tucker, "I did tell him. You may have noticed I seemed a trifle abstracted at tea time. I was considering what it was best to do. Well, when you left us, I told him. What do you think he said? 'Lucky dog.' That was all. Just 'lucky dog.'"
"Meaning you?"
"No, no, meaning the fellow who had been kissing the cook."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Falkener, "how very light minded."
"It shocked me—to have him take it like that. And he would not hear of dismissing her. He intends merely to reprove her, so he says. But what reproof is possible? And the most alarming feature of the whole situation is that, to my opinion, he is looking forward to the interview."
"The woman must be sent out of the house immediately," said Mrs. Falkener with decision. "I wonder if higher wages would tempt7 her?"
"I see your idea," answered Tucker. "You think I ought to offer a position. I would do more than that to save Burt."
"A position as cook, you mean?"
"Why, Mrs. Falkener, what else could I mean?"
"Oh, nothing, Solon, I only thought—"
The friends were still explaining away the little misunderstanding when Crane came down, and dinner was announced.
Mrs. Falkener, with of course the heartiest57 wish to criticize, was forced to admit the food was perfection. The soup so clear and strong, the fried fish so dry and tender, even the cheese soufflé, for which she had waited most hopefully, turned out to be beautifully light and fluffy58. Having come to curse she was obliged to bless; and her praise was delightful to Crane.
"Yes, isn't she a wonder?" he kept saying. "Wasn't it great luck to find any one like that in a place such as this? Tuck, here, keeps trying to poison my mind against her, but I wouldn't part with a cook like that even if she were a Messalina."
Mrs. Falkener, who couldn't on the instant remember who Messalina was, attempted to look as if she thought it would be better not to mention such people in the presence of her daughter.
"Tuck's an inhuman59 old creature, isn't he, Mrs. Falkener?" Crane went on. "I don't believe he ever had a natural impulse in his life, and so he has no sympathy with the impulses of others."
Tucker smiled quietly. It came to him that just so the iron reserve of the middle-aged hero was often misinterpreted during the first two acts by more frivolous60 members of the cast.
As they rose from table, Miss Falkener said:
"It's such a lovely night. Such a moon. Have you seen it, Mr. Crane?"
"Well, I saw it as we drove over from the station," returned Crane, a trifle absently. He had become thoughtful as dinner ended.
"Do you think," said Cora, "that it would be too cold to take a turn in the garden? I should like to see the old box and the cedars61 by moonlight."
"Not a bit. Let's go out. I have something to do first, but it won't take me ten minutes. But," he added, "you must not catch cold and get laid up, and miss the run to-morrow. I'm going to put you on a new Irish mare62 I've just bought." And they found themselves talking not about the garden, but the stable.
In the midst of it Smithfield came into the drawing-room with the coffee, and Crane said to him, in a low tone:
"Oh, Smithfield, tell the cook I'll see her now, in the little office across the hall."
Smithfield looked graver than usual.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said, "but the cook was feeling tired and has gone up to bed, sir."
"She cooked this coffee, didn't she?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"She can't have been gone very long then."
"About five minutes, sir."
"Go up and tell her to come down," said Crane.
He turned again to Miss Falkener and went on about the past performances of the Irish mare, but it was quite clear to all who heard him that his heart was no longer in the topic.
Smithfield's return was greeted by complete silence.
"Well?" said Crane sharply.
"Beg pardon, sir," said Smithfield, "Jane-Ellen says that she is very tired, and that if the morning will do—"
"The morning will not do," answered Crane, with a promptness unusual in him. "Go up and tell her that if she is not in my office within ten minutes, I'll come up myself."
Smithfield bowed and withdrew.
Silence again descended on the room. Mrs. Falkener and Tucker were silent because they both felt that thus their faces expressed more plainly than words could do that this was just about what they had expected. But Cora, who was young enough to understand that anger may be a form of interest, watched him with a strangely wistful expression.
After what seemed to every one an interminable delay, Smithfield entered again. He looked pale and graver than any one had ever seen his habitually64 grave countenance65.
"Jane-Ellen is in your office now, sir," he said.
Crane rose at once and left the room followed by Smithfield.
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whatsoever
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| adv.（用于否定句中以加强语气）任何；pron.无论什么 | |
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caress
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| vt./n.爱抚，抚摸 | |
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recipient
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| a.接受的,感受性强的 n.接受者,感受者,容器 | |
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recoil
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| vi.退却，退缩，畏缩 | |
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alleged
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| a.被指控的，嫌疑的 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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tempt
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| vt.引诱，勾引，吸引，引起…的兴趣 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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partially
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| adv.部分地，从某些方面讲 | |
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unnaturally
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| adv.违反习俗地；不自然地；勉强地；不近人情地 | |
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dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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rebuke
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| v.指责，非难，斥责 [反]praise | |
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chivalry
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| n.骑士气概，侠义；（男人）对女人彬彬有礼，献殷勤 | |
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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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hesitation
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| n.犹豫，踌躇 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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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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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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extraordinarily
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levity
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| n.轻率，轻浮，不稳定，多变 | |
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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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exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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withdrawn
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| vt.收回；使退出；vi.撤退，退出 | |
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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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sincerity
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| n.真诚，诚意；真实 | |
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meshes
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| 网孔( mesh的名词复数 )； 网状物； 陷阱； 困境 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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diligently
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| ad.industriously;carefully | |
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eavesdropper
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| 偷听者 | |
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insolence
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| n.傲慢；无礼；厚颜；傲慢的态度 | |
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reproof
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| n.斥责，责备 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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suavity
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| n.温和；殷勤 | |
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murmur
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；v.低语，低声而言 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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imposing
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| adj.使人难忘的，壮丽的，堂皇的，雄伟的 | |
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dispensing
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| v.分配( dispense的现在分词 )；施与；配（药） | |
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sketch
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| n.草图；梗概；素描；v.素描；概述 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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obstinate
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| adj.顽固的，倔强的，不易屈服的，较难治愈的 | |
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candor
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| n.坦白，率真 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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incompetence
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| n.不胜任，不称职 | |
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delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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ragtime
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| n.拉格泰姆音乐 | |
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auditors
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| n.审计员，稽核员( auditor的名词复数 )；（大学课程的）旁听生 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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heartiest
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| 亲切的( hearty的最高级 )； 热诚的； 健壮的； 精神饱满的 | |
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fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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frivolous
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| adj.轻薄的；轻率的 | |
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cedars
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| 雪松，西洋杉( cedar的名词复数 ) | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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habitually
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| ad.习惯地，通常地 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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