Mrs. Oliver looked rather doubtfully at the three steps and the front door of a small, ratherdilapidated- looking cottage in the side street. Below the windows some bulbs were growing,mainly tulips.
Mrs. Oliver paused, opened the little address book in her hand, verified that she was in the placeshe thought she was, and rapped gently with the knocker after having tried to press a bell push ofpossible electrical significance but which did not seem to yield any satisfactory bell ringing inside,or anything of that kind. Presently, not getting any response, she knocked again. This time therewere sounds from inside. A shuffling1 sound of feet, some asthmatic breathing and handsapparently trying to manage the opening of the door. With this noise there came a few vagueechoes in the letter box.
“Oh, drat it. Drat it. Stuck again, you brute2, you.”
Finally, success met these inward industries, and the door, making a creaky and rather doubtfulnoise, was slowly pulled open. A very old woman with a wrinkled face, humped shoulders and ageneral arthritic3 appearance, looked at her visitor. Her face was unwelcoming. It held no sign offear, merely of distaste for those who came and knocked at the home of an Englishwoman’s castle.
She might have been seventy or eighty, but she was still a valiant4 defender5 of her home.
“I dunno what you’ve come about and I—” she stopped. “Why,” she said, “it’s Miss Ariadne.
Well I never now! It’s Miss Ariadne.”
“I think you’re wonderful to know me,” said Mrs. Oliver. “How are you, Mrs. Matcham?”
“Miss Ariadne! Just think of that now.”
It was, Mrs. Ariadne Oliver thought, a long time ago since she had been addressed as MissAriadne, but the intonation6 of the voice, cracked with age though it was, rang a familiar note.
“Come in, m’dear,” said the old dame7, “come in now. You’re lookin’ well, you are. I dunnohow many years it is since I’ve seen you. Fifteen at least.”
It was a good deal more than fifteen but Mrs. Oliver made no corrections. She came in. Mrs.
Matcham was shaking hands, her hands were rather unwilling8 to obey their owner’s orders. Shemanaged to shut the door and, shuffling her feet and limping, entered a small room which wasobviously one that was kept for the reception of any likely or unlikely visitors whom Mrs.
Matcham was prepared to admit to her home. There were large numbers of photographs, some ofbabies, some of adults. Some in nice leather frames which were slowly drooping10 but had not quitefallen to pieces yet. One in a silver frame by now rather tarnished11, representing a young woman inpresentation Court Dress with feathers rising up on her head. Two naval12 officers, two militarygentlemen, some photographs of naked babies sprawling13 on rugs. There was a sofa and two chairs.
As bidden, Mrs. Oliver sat in a chair. Mrs. Matcham pressed herself down on the sofa and pulled acushion into the hollow of her back with some difficulty.
“Well, my dear, fancy seeing you. And you’re still writing your pretty stories, are you?”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Oliver, assenting14 to this though with a slight doubt as to how far detectivestories and stories of crime and general criminal behaviour could be called “pretty stories.” Butthat, she thought, was very much a habit of Mrs. Matcham’s.
“I’m all alone now,” said Mrs. Matcham. “You remember Gracie, my sister? She died lastautumn, she did. Cancer it was. They operated but it was too late.”
“Oh dear, I’m so sorry,” said Mrs. Oliver.
Conversation proceeded for the next ten minutes on the subject of the demise15, one by one, ofMrs. Matcham’s last remaining relatives.
“And you’re all right, are you? Doing all right? Got a husband now? Oh now, I remember, he’sdead years ago, isn’t he? And what brings you here, to Little Saltern Minor16?”
“I just happened to be in the neighbourhood,” said Mrs. Oliver, “and as I’ve got your address inmy little address book with me, I thought I’d just drop in and—well, see how you were andeverything.”
“Ah! And talk about old times, perhaps. Always nice when you can do that, isn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed,” said Mrs. Oliver, feeling some relief that this particular line had been indicatedto her since it was more or less what she had come for. “What a lot of photographs you’ve got,”
she said.
“Ah, I have, an’ that. D’you know, when I was in that Home—silly name it had. Sunset Houseof Happiness for the Aged9, something like that it was called, a year and a quarter I lived there till Icouldn’t stand it no more, a nasty lot they were, saying you couldn’t have any of your own thingswith you. You know, everything had to belong to the Home. I don’t say as it wasn’t comfortable,but you know, I like me own things around me. My photos and my furniture. And then there wasever so nice a lady, came from a Council she did, some society or other, and she told me there wasanother place where they had homes of their own or something and you could take what you likedwith you. And there’s ever such a nice helper as comes in every day to see if you’re all right. Ah,very comfortable I am here. Very comfortable indeed. I’ve got all my own things.”
“Something from everywhere,” said Mrs. Oliver, looking round.
“Yes, that table—the brass17 one—that’s Captain Wilson, he sent me that from Singapore orsomething like that. And that Benares brass too. That’s nice, isn’t it? That’s a funny thing on theashtray. That’s Egyptian, that is. It’s a scarabee, or some name like that. You know. Sounds likesome kind of scratching disease but it isn’t. No, it’s a sort of beetle18 and it’s made out of somestone. They call it a precious stone. Bright blue. A lazy—a lavis—a lazy lapin or something likethat.”
“Lapis lazuli,” said Mrs. Oliver.
“That’s right. That’s what it is. Very nice, that is. That was my archaeological boy what wentdigging. He sent me that.”
“All your lovely past,” said Mrs. Oliver.
“Yes, all my boys and girls. Some of them as babies, some of them I had from the month, andthe older ones. Some of them when I went to India and that other time when I was in Siam. Yes.
That’s Miss Moya in her Court dress. Ah, she was a pretty thing. Divorced two husbands, she has.
Yes. Trouble with his lordship, the first one, and then she married one of those pop singers and ofcourse that couldn’t take very well. And then she married someone in California. They had a yachtand went places, I think. Died two or three years ago and only sixty-two. Pity dying so young, youknow.”
“You’ve been to a lot of different parts of the world yourself, haven’t you?” said Mrs. Oliver.
“India, Hong Kong, then Egypt, and South America, wasn’t it?”
“Ah yes, I’ve been about a good deal.”
“I remember,” said Mrs. Oliver, “when I was in Malaya, you were with a service family then,weren’t you? A General somebody. Was it—now wait a minute, I can’t remember the name—itwasn’t General and Lady Ravenscroft, was it?”
“No, no, you’ve got the name wrong. You’re thinking of when I was with the Barnabys. That’sright. You came to stay with them. Remember? You were doing a tour, you were, and you cameand stayed with the Barnabys. You were an old friend of hers. He was a Judge.”
“Ah yes,” said Mrs. Oliver. “It’s difficult a bit. One gets names mixed up.”
“Two nice children they had,” said Mrs. Matcham. “Of course they went to school in England.
The boy went to Harrow and the girl went to Roedean, I think it was, and so I moved on to anotherfamily after that. Ah, things have changed nowadays. Not so many amahs, even, as there used tobe. Mind you, the amahs used to be a bit of a trouble now and then. I got on with our one verywell when I was with the Barnabys, I mean. Who was it you spoke19 of? The Ravenscrofts? Well, Iremember them. Yes—I forget the name of the place where they lived now. Not far from us. Thefamilies were acquainted, you know. Oh yes, it’s a long time ago, but I remember it all. I was stillout there with the Barnabys, you know. I stayed on when the children went to school to look afterMrs. Barnaby. Look after her things, you know, and mend them and all that. Oh yes, I was therewhen that awful thing happened. I don’t mean the Barnabys, I mean to the Ravenscrofts. Yes, Ishall never forget that. Hearing about it, I mean. Naturally I wasn’t mixed up in it myself, but itwas a terrible thing to happen, wasn’t it?”
“I should think it must have been,” said Mrs. Oliver.
“It was after you’d gone back to England, a good long time after that, I think. A nice couplethey were. Very nice couple and it was a shock to them.”
“I don’t really remember now,” said Mrs. Oliver.
“I know. One forgets things. I don’t myself. But they said she’d always been queer, you know.
Ever since the time she was a child. Some early story there was. She took a baby out of the pramand threw it in the river. Jealousy20, they said. Other people said she wanted the baby to go toheaven and not wait.”
“Is it—is it Lady Ravenscroft, you mean?”
“No, of course I don’t. Ah, you don’t remember as well as I do. It was the sister.”
“Her sister?”
“I’m not sure now whether it was her sister or his sister. They said she’d been in a kind ofmental place for a long time, you know. Ever since she was about eleven or twelve years old. Theykept her there and then they said she was all right again and she came out. And she marriedsomeone in the Army. And then there was trouble. And the next thing they heard, I believe, wasthat she’d been put back again in one of them loony bin21 places. They treat you very well, youknow. They have a suite22, nice rooms and all that. And they used to go and see her, I believe. Imean the General did or his wife. The children were brought up by someone else, I think, becausethey were afraid-like. However, they said she was all right in the end. So she came back to livewith her husband, and then he died or something. Blood pressure I think it was, or heart. Anyway,she was very upset and she came out to stay with her brother or her sister—whichever it was—sheseemed quite happy there and everything, and ever so fond of children, she was. It wasn’t the littleboy, I think, he was at school. It was the little girl, and another little girl who’d come to play withher that afternoon. Ah well, I can’t remember the details now. It’s so long ago. There was a lot oftalk about it. There was some as said, you know, as it wasn’t her at all. They thought it was theamah that had done it, but the amah loved them and she was very, very upset. She wanted to takethem away from the house. She said they weren’t safe there, and all sorts of things like that. But ofcourse the others didn’t believe in it and then this came about and I gather they think it must havebeen whatever her name was—I can’t remember it now. Anyway, there it was.”
“And what happened to this sister, either of General or Lady Ravenscroft?”
“Well, I think, you know, as she was taken away by a doctor and put in some place and wentback to England, I believe, in the end. I dunno if she went to the same place as before, but she waswell looked after somewhere. There was plenty of money, I think, you know. Plenty of money inthe husband’s family. Maybe she got all right again. But well, I haven’t thought of it for years. Nottill you came here asking me stories about General and Lady Ravenscroft. I wonder where they arenow. They must have retired23 before now, long ago.”
“Well, it was rather sad,” said Mrs. Oliver. “Perhaps you read about it in the papers.”
“Read what?”
“Well, they bought a house in England and then—”
“Ah now, it’s coming back to me. I remember reading something about that in the paper. Yes,and thinking then that I knew the name Ravenscroft, but I couldn’t quite remember when and how.
They fell over a cliff, didn’t they? Something of that kind.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Oliver, “something of that kind.”
“Now look here, dearie, it’s so nice to see you, it is. You must let me give you a cup of tea.”
“Really,” said Mrs. Oliver, “I don’t need any tea. Really, I don’t want it.”
“Of course you want some tea. If you don’t mind now, come into the kitchen, will you? I mean,I spend most of my time there now. It’s easier to get about there. But I take visitors always intothis room because I’m proud of my things, you know. Proud of my things and proud of all thechildren and the others.”
“I think,” said Mrs. Oliver, “that people like you must have had a wonderful life with all thechildren you’ve looked after.”
“Yes. I remember when you were a little girl, you liked to listen to the stories I told you. Therewas one about a tiger, I remember, and one about monkeys—monkeys in a tree.”
“Yes,” said Mrs. Oliver, “I remember those. It was a very long time ago.”
Her mind swept back to herself, a child of six or seven, walking in button boots that were rathertoo tight on a road in England, and listening to a story of India and Egypt from an attendantNanny. And this was Nanny. Mrs. Matcham was Nanny. She looked round the room as shefollowed her hostess out. At the pictures of girls, of schoolboys, of children and various middle-aged24 people, all mainly photographed in their best clothes and sent in nice frames or other thingsbecause they hadn’t forgotten Nanny. Because of them, probably, Nanny was having a reasonablycomfortable old age with money supplied. Mrs. Oliver felt a sudden desire to burst out crying.
This was so unlike her that she was able to stop herself by an effort of will. She followed Mrs.
Matcham to the kitchen. There she produced the offering she had brought.
“Well, I never! A tin of Tophole Thathams tea. Always my favourite. Fancy you remembering.
I can hardly ever get it nowadays. And that’s my favourite tea biscuits. Well, you are a one fornever forgetting. What was it they used to call you—those two little boys who came to play—onewould call you Lady Elephant and the other one called you Lady Swan. The one who called youLady Elephant used to sit on your back and you went about the floor on all fours and pretended tohave a trunk you picked things up with.”
“You don’t forget many things, do you, Nanny?” said Mrs. Oliver.
“Ah,” said Mrs. Matcham. “Elephants don’t forget. That’s the old saying.”
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收听单词发音
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1
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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2
brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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arthritic
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| adj.关节炎的 | |
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valiant
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| adj.勇敢的，英勇的；n.勇士，勇敢的人 | |
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5
defender
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| n.保卫者，拥护者，辩护人 | |
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intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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dame
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| n.女士 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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11
tarnished
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| （通常指金属）（使）失去光泽，（使）变灰暗( tarnish的过去式和过去分词 )； 玷污，败坏 | |
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12
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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sprawling
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| adj.蔓生的，不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 )；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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assenting
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| 同意，赞成( assent的现在分词 ) | |
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demise
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| n.死亡；v.让渡，遗赠，转让 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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brass
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| n.黄铜；黄铜器，铜管乐器 | |
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beetle
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| n.甲虫，近视眼的人 | |
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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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jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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