Why old Bunley had made Barton his place of residence nobody knew. The most plausible1 theory ever advanced on the subject came from the former proprietor2 of the Barton House, who said that Bunley, happening to be traveling that way, had found the brandy at the Barton House so good that he hadn’t the heart to leave it. The brandy lasted so long that old Bunley—then twenty years younger—while consuming it became acquainted with nearly everybody in the town; and as he had no engagements that restrained him from making himself agreeable, he found himself well liked, and entreated3 to make his home at Barton. He reported—and his report was afterward4 verified—that he was the son of a Virginia planter, and was unpopular at home because he had made a runaway5 match with a splendid girl, whose only fault was that her family did not rank very high. Bunley’s father had cut his son off with a thousand dollars,[47] but had considerately sent the money with the letter of dismissal; so the happy couple were leisurely6 spending the money and waiting for the old gentleman to relent, as irate7 fathers always do in books. But while Bunley was enjoying the hospitalities of Barton, annoyed only by the fact that his purse was growing light, he heard of his father’s sudden death and of the inheritance by an unloving brother of the entire estate. Then the young bridegroom attempted to obtain money by borrowing, for this was the only method of money-getting he understood; but the small success which attended his efforts did not pay for the annoyance8 which his soulless creditors9 gave him. Then he tried gambling10, and, by devoting his mind to it, succeeded so well that no one but an occasional commercial traveler, to whom Bunley’s ways were unknown, would play with him. Then, under the guise11 of being clerk of the Barton House, he became its actual barkeeper, and attracted so much custom away from the other liquor-sellers that the grateful proprietor took him into partnership12, and, dying a year later, bequeathed the whole business to him. But the good brandy which had first persuaded Bunley to stop at Barton continued its fascinations13, and the new proprietor of[48] the Barton House, while liked by all travelers, grew so unpopular with purveyors of flour, meat, and other hotel necessities that the sheriff was finally called upon to settle the differences between them by disposing of the hotel property at auction14.
After that Bunley ran to seed, to use an expression common in Barton. How he lived during the twenty years which followed was not well understood. His wife died, and it was understood that he married some money the second time; but it was none the less whispered about town that Bunley had been seen at night to borrow at woodpiles whose owners he had not consulted. He went upon mighty15 sprees, and carried the bouquet16 of liquor wherever he went. He started a small groggery of his own, in which many bright boys learned to drink. He had long since ruined the credit which he obtained on the strength of his second wife’s property, for he never paid an account.
And yet the most aggrieved17 of Bunley’s creditors could not help being soft-hearted when they saw the old man in church, as he was every Sunday morning with his two boys. The gentleman which was in old Bunley then showed itself in his face and manner, and it did seem too bad that any one who[49] could look and act so much like a man should not be trusted to the extent of a dollar’s worth of sugar or a hundred pounds of flour. Squire18 Tomple had thought so one Sunday, and as the Squire strove to keep worldly thoughts out of his mind on the Lord’s day, his mind became filled with old Bunley—so much so, that on the following Monday he decoyed Bunley into his store, and talked so pleasantly to him that the old gentleman actually made the request for which the Squire hoped. He bought rather more than the Squire had meant to sell him on credit, but his promise of early payment was so distinct and emphatic19 that the Squire’s doubt was not fairly established for many months. This story in all its details was told by the Squire to Mr. Crupp, after that gentleman announced to him that something should be done for old Bunley.
“That was because you didn’t go about the job in the right way,” said Crupp. “He’s got just enough conceit20 to suppose that he’s going to pay all his bills some day, and he feels that when the time comes your profit’ll pay for your kindness. That conceit of his is just what needs to be taken down—it’s got to be done kindly—so that he understands that whatever he gets comes out of pure[50] charity and the desire to make him comfortable, even at a loss. Now, he and his little family can live on about a dollar a day. I’ll stand half the expense of supporting him for three months if you’ll do the other half, and we’ll talk plain, good-natured English to him, and let him understand he’s a pauper21. That’ll put him on his mettle22. What do you say?”
The Squire looked grave at once—as grave as he had appeared when an uninsured hogshead of sugar belonging to him had fallen from a steamboat gang-plank into the river, and melted. The proposition seemed to take his breath away, in fact; but in a moment or two he regained23 it.
“Look here, Crupp,” said he, “temperance is all very well; but I don’t think it’s my business to stand part of the expenses of reforming everybody, when I haven’t had anything to do with making drunkards. With you the case is different. You say your liquors were always good; but, like enough, that made men all the fonder of drinking the infernal things. You’re a public-spirited citizen, but you can’t deny that you’ve had a thousand times more to do with making drunkards than I have. The very fact that you are a decent fellow yourself[51] has made drinking halfway24 respectable in Barton. The crime’s right at your own door, and you ought to pay for it. You——”
The Squire paused. Mr. Crupp’s face was very white and his teeth were tightly set. Mr. Crupp had been known to throw a disorderly visitor at his bar halfway across the street; and although the Squire knew that his own avoirdupois was too great to be treated so contemptuously, he had no desire to feel the weight of Crupp’s fist. Besides, Crupp was a customer who bought a great deal and paid promptly25, and the Squire did not like to offend him and lose his custom. So the Squire paused.
“Go right on,” said Mr. Crupp very quietly. “I’ll not bear any malice26. I’ve said a great many worse things to myself. Don’t hold in anything you’ve got on your mind.”
“I’m done,” said the Squire, looking relieved and extending his hand. “Crupp, I think a good deal of you, and I’m ashamed of myself for boiling over as I did. But folks talk to me as if I was made of money. I paid out a good deal on the expense of the meeting; the parson’s been at me to help every lazy drunkard to get work; George Doughty27 wants more pay or less work, so he won’t have such[52] a hankering after liquor; and now to be asked to help old Bunley, that’s owed me money a long time and never paid it, that came near helping28 one of my boys to a taste for liquor, that helps himself at my woodpile—it’s too much, that’s all.”
“Squire,” said Crupp, “isn’t there something in your Bible that’s not complimentary29 to men who say to the needy30, ‘Depart: be ye warmed and fed,’ but don’t put their hands into their pockets to help the poor wretches31 along? I tell you that a man that’s got the love of drink fixed32 in every muscle in his body and every drop of his blood is worse off than any cold and hungry man you ever saw. Such men sometimes help themselves out of their trouble, and stick to cold water; but the man that does it is more of a hero, and he’s got better stuff in him, than any other sort of sinner that ever repents33. He’s got to be helped just like drowning men have to be, and you’ve got to take hold of him just as you do of a drowning man, by whatever part you can get the tightest grip on. Bunley’s pride’s the only handle you can find on him, and you can’t get at that except by showing that you think enough of him to sink money in him.”
The Squire cast about in his mind for some argument[53] in defense34 of his money; but, as he found none, he acted like a good diplomatist, and started to talk against time by uttering some promising35 generalizations36.
“I always meant, and I still mean,” said he, “to do good with my money. That’s what it was given me for. I’m only the Lord’s steward——”
“And right here in Barton is where the Lord put you to do it,” said Crupp. “Here’s where you made your money; here are the people who know you and don’t suspect you of caring any less for your money than other folks do for theirs; here are the people you know all about; you know their weaknesses and their good points, and every dollar you spend on them you can watch, and see that it does its duty.”
“When I know that helping a man will be sure to reform him,” began the Squire, when again his companion interrupted him:
“Did you ever read of Christ’s letting a man suffer for fear that if he cured him or fed him he might get sick or hungry again? If I read straight, he helped everybody that came to him, and everybody that needed help. I suppose loafers were as thick in Judæa as they are in Barton; why, when he[54] healed those ten lepers there was only one of them decent enough to come back and say “Thank you.” I’ve got money enough to take Bunley on my own shoulders for a little while, and I’m going to spend a good deal on such fellows; but they want to see that they’re thought something of by men who never sold whisky, who never made anything out of them, who are enough in earnest to do something for them that costs more than talk does. I know it isn’t easy, but it’s got to be done—that is, if Christianity is true.”
Crupp’s last shot told. Squire Tomple was orthodox, but he was not without reflective capacity, and many had been his twinges of conscience at his practical rejection37 of undoubted deductions38 which he had drawn39 from Christ’s teachings and example. But on this particular occasion, as on many others, he was not defeated; he was only temporarily demoralized. In a moment he was on the defensive40 again, and suddenly raised his head and opened his lips; but, whatever his idea was, it remained unspoken; for in the eye of Crupp, which had been intently scrutinizing42 his face and through it his heart, he detected a softness and haziness43 unusual in the eyes of men. The Squire, not without a[55] struggle, became at once shamefaced and obedient, and said hurriedly,
“Crupp, you’re a good, square man; I’m proud to know you, and I’ll do what you like—for old Bunley, that is.”
Great was the surprise of Bunley himself, when he answered a knock at his door a few minutes later, to find Squire Tomple and Mr. Crupp upon his front stoop, both of them looking and acting44 as if extremely embarrassed. But old Bunley never forgot his Virginia breeding, not even before a couple of creditors; so he invited both gentlemen to seats on the top step, and then sat down between them.
The Squire looked appealingly at Crupp; Crupp winked45 encouragingly at the Squire; the Squire coughed feebly; Crupp plucked a stem of timothy grass, and gazed at it as if he had never seen such a thing before; the Squire took out a pocket-knife, and began to scrape his finger-nails, and then Crupp remarked that it was a fine day. Bunley having cheerfully assented46 to this expression of opinion, there was a moment or two of awkward silence, which was finally relieved by Bunley, who drew from his pocket a plug of tobacco, from which he took a bite, after first offering it to his visitors. A little more facial[56] pantomime went on between Tomple and Crupp, and then the Squire spoke41.
“Bunley,” said he, “you don’t seem to get along very fast in the world.”
“That’s a fact,” answered Bunley with hearty47 emphasis. “Luck seems to go against me, no matter how I lay myself out. There ain’t a man in this town that wants to do the right thing any more than I do, but somehow I don’t get the chance. I signed the pledge t’other night at the meetin’; but how I’m goin’ to stick to it, with all the trouble I’m in, is more than I can see through.”
“We’ve come down to help you do it,” said the Squire.
“To help you with money—not talk,” supplemented Crupp.
“We propose, between us, to show you that we’re in dead earnest to help you keep the pledge,” continued the Squire. “We’re going to give you, week after week, whatever you need to live on for the next three months, so you won’t have any excuse for drinking to drown trouble, and so you’ll have a chance to find something to do.”
[57]
Old Bunley sprang to his feet. “Gentlemen,” said he, “you’re—you’re gentlemen. It’s the first time in my life that anybody ever cared that much for me, though. You shan’t lose anything by it, I promise you that; I’ll pay you back again the first chance I get to make anything.”
“We don’t want it back,” said Crupp. “We won’t take it back. We want to give it to you, out and out——”
“To show you that it’s you that we’re interested in, not ourselves,” interrupted the Squire.
Then Old Virginia came to the surface again; Bunley seemed to grow an inch or two, and to swell49 several more as he replied,
“I’m not a pauper, gentlemen.”
“Certainly not,” said the Squire hastily; “but you can’t pay your debts nor your current expenses, and Crupp and I are a little ahead in the world, and willing to give you a hundred, say—a little at a time.”
“You’ve got a couple of boys to bring up, you know, Bunley,” suggested Crupp.
“And they ought to go among the best people, [58]too,” said the Squire. “You came of a good family——”
“And their mother was a lady, too—every inch of her!” exclaimed Bunley.
“Of course she was,” said Crupp. “But, to come back to business, we don’t want you to have any excuse to touch whisky again, and we want you to live on us for the next three months as a personal favor. After that, if you make any money, I s’pose the Squire’ll be glad to sell you anything he keeps in his store; I know I will, if I’m in business then. But you mustn’t talk about paying now, ’cause it’s all nonsense. Come up to the Squire’s store when you want anything. Good-by.”
Bunley drew himself up with great solemnity and old-time courtesy as he shook hands with both men. When his visitors reached the friendly angle of an old, abandoned barn, both turned hastily, gazed through cracks between the boards, and saw the old man sitting in a meditative50 attitude, with his lower jaw51 in both his hands.
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1
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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proprietor
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| n.所有人；业主；经营者 | |
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entreated
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| 恳求，乞求( entreat的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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runaway
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| n.逃走的人，逃亡，亡命者；adj.逃亡的，逃走的 | |
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leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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irate
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| adj.发怒的，生气 | |
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annoyance
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| n.恼怒，生气，烦恼 | |
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9
creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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10
gambling
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| n.赌博；投机 | |
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11
guise
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| n.外表，伪装的姿态 | |
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12
partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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13
fascinations
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| n.魅力( fascination的名词复数 )；有魅力的东西；迷恋；陶醉 | |
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14
auction
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| n.拍卖；拍卖会；vt.拍卖 | |
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15
mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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17
aggrieved
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| adj.愤愤不平的，受委屈的；悲痛的；（在合法权利方面）受侵害的v.令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式)；令委屈，令苦恼，侵害( aggrieve的过去式和过去分词) | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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19
emphatic
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| adj.强调的，着重的；无可置疑的，明显的 | |
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20
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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pauper
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| n.贫民，被救济者，穷人 | |
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mettle
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| n.勇气，精神 | |
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regained
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| 复得( regain的过去式和过去分词 )； 赢回； 重回； 复至某地 | |
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halfway
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| adj.中途的，不彻底的，部分的；adv.半路地，在中途，在半途 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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malice
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| n.恶意，怨恨，蓄意；[律]预谋 | |
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doughty
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| adj.勇猛的，坚强的 | |
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28
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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complimentary
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| adj.赠送的，免费的，赞美的，恭维的 | |
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needy
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| adj.贫穷的，贫困的，生活艰苦的 | |
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wretches
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| n.不幸的人( wretch的名词复数 )；可怜的人；恶棍；坏蛋 | |
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32
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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33
repents
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| 对（自己的所为）感到懊悔或忏悔( repent的第三人称单数 ) | |
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34
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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35
promising
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| adj.有希望的，有前途的 | |
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36
generalizations
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| 一般化( generalization的名词复数 )； 普通化； 归纳； 概论 | |
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37
rejection
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| n.拒绝，被拒，抛弃，被弃 | |
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deductions
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| 扣除( deduction的名词复数 )； 结论； 扣除的量； 推演 | |
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39
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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40
defensive
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| adj.防御的；防卫的；防守的 | |
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41
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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42
scrutinizing
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| v.仔细检查，详审( scrutinize的现在分词 ) | |
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43
haziness
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| 有薄雾，模糊； 朦胧之性质或状态； 零能见度 | |
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44
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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45
winked
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| v.使眼色( wink的过去式和过去分词 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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46
assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
hearty
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| adj.热情友好的；衷心的；尽情的，纵情的 | |
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48
eyelid
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| n.眼睑，眼皮 | |
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49
swell
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| vi.膨胀，肿胀；增长，增强 | |
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50
meditative
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| adj.沉思的，冥想的 | |
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51
jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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52
animation
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| n.活泼，兴奋，卡通片／动画片的制作 | |
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53
dodging
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| n.避开，闪过，音调改变v.闪躲( dodge的现在分词 )；回避 | |
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