At the end of July Rosamond was taken home by somebody who was travelling up to Yorkshire. Her mother was not very well and wanted her. In fact, for the whole of August Auntie May was always worrying about Beatrice, Rosamond's mother, who was her twin-sister. She said she couldn't quite make out from Beatrice's letters what was the matter with her, or if it was serious or no, and though she paid several visits to big country houses in August she did not enjoy them. We were left to the care of Mary, who was becoming a very excellent cat's-maid, and so mother told Auntie May whenever she came home, and that, although she never could love Mary as much as she loved Auntie May, she had not wanted for anything during her absence.
At last Beatrice's letters got so scanty1 and muddly2 that Auntie May said she must go and see her and find out for herself. So she telegraphed to Tom, her brother-in-law, that she was going down to Crook3 Hall on Thursday, whether they wanted her or not.
The answer came back, and puzzled Auntie May very much:
'Do—want—you—bring—kitten.'
'Bring kitten? Why should I? Beatrice doesn't want to keep kittens because she has so many dogs. What can it mean? This is some game of Rosamond's, I'll be bound. I'll not take a kitten.'
But the more she thought over it, the more she felt that Tom wouldn't have put Bring Kitten unless he wanted one. He is a man who doesn't talk any more than he need, and it was he who had sent the telegram off himself. Beatrice wanted the kitten for some reason or other, there was not a doubt of it, or Tom wanted Beatrice to have a kitten. She began to think she would take a kitten.
'I will take the strongest,' she said. 'Petronilla, which do you consider your strongest kitten?'
Mother answered, 'Frederick B. Nicholson, as you call him,' but of course Auntie May couldn't understand her. She sat down by the basket, where we still spent most of our time, and talked to us about ourselves.
'Freddy's nose is too long—makes him rather snipe-faced—but his paws are broad and magnificent, and his eyes golden. Zobeide, your tail is a weeny-weeny bit too thin and drawn4 out at the tip, and your ears too pointed5 and long. You, Loki, have got a tolerably neat little chubby6 face of your own, but your ears are not tufted, and your nose, if you were human, would be an impertinent snub. Still, you are going to be a fluffy7 cat, one can see that, and invalids8—if poor Beatrice really is an invalid9—prefer fluffiness10. I think I'll take you, Loki. No, Fred, not you, indeed, you pertinacious11 darling, for you always go for one's eyes, you are such a dangerous cat, without a single atom of self-control. So, Loki, you may as well say goodbye to your mother and make the most of her, for she just won't know you when you come back. Get him ready for me, Petronilla, by to-morrow morning, will you?'
'So Beatrice is an invalid!' said mother, after she had gone. 'It is bad for you, my child. But now listen attentively12 to your mother, and perhaps she may tell you how to avoid any bad effects. If they put you on the patient's bed, keep as near the foot as you can; don't lie near her or take her breath. I always believe in giving invalids a very wide berth13. I remember once that my old mistress, Miss Jane Beverley, was very ill, and I had kept away as much as I could. She did not want me either; she didn't really love cats. One day, however, I was curious to know how she was going on and I ventured into her sick-room, though it was a foolish thing to do. From what I observed myself, I concluded that she was on the high road to recovery. We know better than They do. It is the air that blows from people that are not going to get better that tells us about it. No such airs came from her. I leaped on to the bed and went right up to her face and stroked her chin. You should have heard her old nurse:
'"Bless us, ma'am," she almost screamed, "you're going to get well. The cat's taken to you again!"
'She was an unusually skilled nurse to know this principle that is so strong in cats, and let her judgment14 be swayed by it.'
'And did Miss Beverley get well?' asked Zobeide.
'Of course—till next time. They die, you know, like us, in the end.'
Next morning came, and Auntie May was very sad and serious. I believe she was quite frightened about her sister. She had a basket lined, with torn-up bits of paper in it, brought in for me, and at the very last moment I was put into it by Mary. Mother came and sniffed15 at me as I lay inside, and advised me not to go and get all the skin off my face trying to pick at the walls of the basket to open it, but lie still and try to sleep, and eat a little grass the first chance I got on arriving at Crook Hall.
Then Mary came back into the room hastily. They have got so into the habit of telling us things that she said to mother as she took me up, 'Cab's at the door!' She carried me down, and I suppose it was Auntie May who took hold of me, for I heard Mr. Graham kiss her several times, and I suppose he wouldn't kiss Mary, though he says she is a very good servant. We went out of the door, for I felt the rush of fresh air against the sides of the basket, and I sniffed, and then I felt so terribly strange that I am ashamed to say I did give one long 'Miau!' as I was carried across the pavement to the cab. I saw nothing, of course, but mother had explained to me all the probable stages of my journey.
There began the strangest, weirdest16 series of noises I had ever heard then, though I have, I am sorry to say, heard them many a time since. Howling, rushing, grating, bumping, rolling, trotting17, whistling, screeching18, hitting—and spitting, if I may say so. We seemed to be always going up and down stairs. I mewed a few small mews, and Auntie May spoke19 to me through the walls of the basket and said, 'Hush20! hush!' very gently, and I hushed, and only grunted21 to inform her how I felt.
Then at last all was still, except for a curious rushing noise that never stopped. The rocking motion that went with it was very pleasant and soothing22, and made one feel quite stupid. Suddenly I felt Auntie May's hand slide into the basket, which I licked and lay down against. I was quite easy in my mind after that, but getting more and more stupefied every minute. Presently she opened the lid of the basket and I sat up and looked about.
We seemed to be in a small, plain, unfurnished house, with nothing in it but seats and a hat-rack. A large man, far bigger than Auntie May's little papa, was sitting opposite her and reading a sheet of enormous printed paper. In the other corner was a lacy black woman. When the basket was opened she jumped and frightened me, and Auntie May said, 'Sit still, nervous little cat!'
'Oh, what a darling!' the woman exclaimed. 'May I just touch it?' She did touch me, but Auntie May held my hind23 paws firmly down in the basket. She needn't have bothered, I don't go to strangers.
'Mightn't he jump out? Aren't you awfully24 nervous about him?' cackled the black woman. 'Isn't he a sweet colour? He is like that new grey pastel shade they brought out in Paris last year. Teuf-Teuf, they called it—something to do with the automobiles25? Why don't you call him Teuf-Teuf? Such a sweet name for a cat!'
'Because somehow he happens to have a name already,' Auntie May said, extra sweetly, because she was so bored by the lady and wanted to read her novel.
'Why doesn't he have a yellow ribbon round his dear neck? A yellow ribbon would look so sweet—so like Velasquez' scheme of colouring!'
'I never allow my cats to wear horse-collars,' said Auntie May, 'for fear of spoiling their ruffs. I think I must put you in again, darling, for I want to read. You won't mind, will you, for I will leave you my hand to lick!'
So down went the lid on me, and the lady in the corner calmed down, though she still chirped26 occasionally like the birds in the square garden in the mornings.
The rushing and the rocking stopped suddenly, and I heard a voice call out 'Darlington!'
'Oh, how sweet!' said the lady in the corner. 'And what are you going to do with your darling cat?'
'Put him on the rails!' said Auntie May, quite rudely. 'Good morning!'
But we did not catch our train; it had gone. We had missed the connection. 'Tant pis!' Auntie May said (which means 'All the worse!'). 'We will go and put an ornamental27 frill round something.'
That meant eat, as I found soon enough. She opened the basket and turned me out on to a marble tablecloth28, very cold to the feet, and gave me a saucer full of milk. I don't like eating off anything white, for that always means getting banged. Auntie May's way of preventing kittens from stealing off tables is to associate eating off anything white in their minds with a whipping. However, in this case it was she herself who put me up to it. When we had done (Auntie May ate a couple of sponge-cakes) we went to another room where a woman in grey was sitting over the fire knitting, and Auntie May talked to an old gentleman with black silk gaiters and a black silk pinafore like Rosamond's, who turned out to be the bishop29 of the town near where Beatrice lived. It was all delightful30, except that people kept opening the door of the room and looking in and going away again, making me jump every time, and the bishop too. I am a nervous little cat, as Auntie May told the black lady, and I am to Fred as a carthorse is to a racehorse. After we had sat there for what seemed a long time, a guard put his head in at the door and said, as if it didn't particularly matter, 'Anybody here for the four-fifteen?'
It did matter, and everybody jumped up except the grey-haired woman, who went on knitting. Auntie May popped me into the basket, and fastened the lid safely; the bishop offered to carry me, but she would not let him. I was relieved, and I think by the sound of his voice he was relieved too. I did not mew, for it would only distress31 her and disgrace her before her new friend. Besides, I was full, and you have no idea what a difference it makes. I curled round and determined32 to take no notice of any sort of noise. Even when Auntie May prodded33 me with her finger kindly34, I wished she would not, for I felt too stupid to mew, and just wanted to be let alone for the rest of the journey. Besides, I felt rather sick. They should not fill one up with milk like a bottle and then shake one about. I wished I had refused it at the time.
The train slowed down, and the bishop said, 'Can I be of assistance to you in any way?'
'Thank you very much,' Auntie May said, 'but Tom, my brother-in-law, will meet us. There he is!'
Then, I think, she forgot all about the bishop, for she said to some one at the carriage window, in a fearfully excited voice, 'Oh, Tom, how is she? I have brought a kitten—'
Tom did not answer, but I fancy he shook his head, or something that didn't seem hopeful, for Auntie May squeaked35, 'Oh dear!' in not at all her usual voice.
Tom seemed only business-like. 'Where's your ticket? Hand it over. Had you to take a dog ticket for this little brute37?'
'Tom!'
'All right. Come on!'
They did not say a word to each other till we had walked a little way and stood about a little, and Auntie May had taken a step up with me and sat down. And then the rolling and rocking began again. I was nearly dead with fuss and different ways of travelling. But I listened to what was said.
'She hardly knew us yesterday,' he was saying. He had a deep big voice, much louder than May's father's voice, but then Mr. Graham is an artist and Tom Gilmour is a sportsman, and is always calling to things across bogs38 and moors39 to follow him or come to heel, so mother told me. He went on, choking rather:
'It was a sort of faint. She got quite cold, and the nurse said, "Anything to rouse her, sir! I wish she had a pet, sir!" And I was sending for you anyhow, and so I said, "Would a kitten do?" and the woman said, "Might try it, sir." So I sent that message to you, "Bring a cat!" Pretty comic, wasn't it? Ho, ho!'
It was a melancholy40 sort of cackle, but Auntie May cried out:
'Oh, Tom, how can you laugh with Beatrice in such a state?' She began to cry herself and rock about in the carriage.
'Better to laugh than cry with an invalid any day,' said Tom. 'And I tell you what, May, my dear, if you are going to be a hysterical41 muff, you had much better not have come down at all. You will do Beatrice more harm than good. Stow it, can't you? Good Lord, now there's the wretched brute in the basket beginning to caterwaul!'
I was not caterwauling, only trying to tell Auntie May to be quiet and that Tom was quite right. But one is so easily misunderstood. However, Auntie May got sensible all at once, and thanked Tom for speaking sharply to her, and said she meant to do Beatrice good, not harm, and would he like to see the little kitten, and she had chosen the prettiest, and so on.
'If you like you can let the beast out,' he said roughly. 'I look upon all cats as vermin myself. I know I shoot 'em pretty quick when they come into the garden. They are so beastly destructive, you know, worse than rabbits even. Here, yank him out and let's see the little beggar.'
So out I came, and I at once crawled all over his nice great knees, covered with thick lovely wool that I could pick up with my claws in handfuls and not be missed. My claws were little and the stuff was thick, not like the clothes of Auntie May's friends, male and female. The men squirm when I get on their knees and try to bear it, but the women jump up and squeak36 the moment you touch them. They have only got one coating probably under their thin muslin gowns, being ridiculously under-furred. But Tom only grinned and said:
'Go it, little un! You can't hurt me. Beatrice's knitted stockings will stand a good deal. Poor darling! I only wish I knew whether she would ever knit me any more of them!'
'Now you mustn't be depressed42!' said Auntie May, patting his knees. She was awfully fond of Tom I could see, and he of her, though he abused her all the time, and laughed at her novels and her editors and publishers, and her life in London generally, so different from his and Beatrice's. I was very eager to see Beatrice, because she was Auntie May's sister and Rosamond's mother, but I was not allowed to until after supper, mine and Auntie May's. We had it with Tom alone, and he hardly said a word all dinner, though the nurse came down and told us that Beatrice was much better and hadn't fainted at all that day, and had eaten quite a fair meal at seven.
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收听单词发音
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1
scanty
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| adj.缺乏的，仅有的，节省的，狭小的，不够的 | |
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2
muddly
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| 不由得想搂抱的，可爱的； 令人想拥抱的 | |
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crook
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| v.使弯曲；n.小偷，骗子，贼；弯曲(处) | |
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4
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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5
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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chubby
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| adj.丰满的，圆胖的 | |
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7
fluffy
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| adj.有绒毛的，空洞的 | |
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8
invalids
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| 病人，残疾者( invalid的名词复数 ) | |
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invalid
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| n.病人，伤残人；adj.有病的，伤残的；无效的 | |
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fluffiness
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| [医]柔软，蓬松，绒毛状 | |
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11
pertinacious
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| adj.顽固的 | |
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attentively
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| adv.聚精会神地；周到地；谛；凝神 | |
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13
berth
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| n.卧铺，停泊地，锚位；v.使停泊 | |
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14
judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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15
sniffed
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| v.以鼻吸气，嗅，闻( sniff的过去式和过去分词 )；抽鼻子（尤指哭泣、患感冒等时出声地用鼻子吸气）；抱怨，不以为然地说 | |
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16
weirdest
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| 怪诞的( weird的最高级 )； 神秘而可怕的； 超然的； 古怪的 | |
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17
trotting
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| 小跑，急走( trot的现在分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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18
screeching
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| v.发出尖叫声( screech的现在分词 )；发出粗而刺耳的声音；高叫 | |
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19
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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20
hush
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| int.嘘，别出声；n.沉默，静寂；v.使安静 | |
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21
grunted
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的过去式和过去分词 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说 | |
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22
soothing
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| adj.慰藉的；使人宽心的；镇静的 | |
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hind
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| adj.后面的，后部的 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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25
automobiles
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| n.汽车( automobile的名词复数 ) | |
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26
chirped
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| 鸟叫，虫鸣( chirp的过去式 ) | |
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27
ornamental
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| adj.装饰的；作装饰用的；n.装饰品；观赏植物 | |
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28
tablecloth
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| n.桌布，台布 | |
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29
bishop
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| n.主教，（国际象棋）象 | |
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30
delightful
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| adj.令人高兴的，使人快乐的 | |
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31
distress
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| n.苦恼，痛苦，不舒适；不幸；vt.使悲痛 | |
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32
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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33
prodded
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| v.刺，戳( prod的过去式和过去分词 )；刺激；促使；（用手指或尖物）戳 | |
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34
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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35
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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36
squeak
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| n.吱吱声，逃脱；v.（发出）吱吱叫，侥幸通过；（俚）告密 | |
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37
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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38
bogs
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| n.沼泽，泥塘( bog的名词复数 )；厕所v.（使）陷入泥沼， （使）陷入困境( bog的第三人称单数 )；妨碍，阻碍 | |
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39
moors
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| v.停泊，系泊（船只）( moor的第三人称单数 ) | |
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40
melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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41
hysterical
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| adj.情绪异常激动的，歇斯底里般的 | |
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42
depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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