In the evening Dr. Crackenthorpe paid us a visit. He found my father out, but elected to sit with us and smoke his pipe expectant of the other’s return.
He always treated us boys as if we were so much dirt, and we respected his strength just sufficiently1 to try no pranks2 on him in the absence of the ruling power. But nevertheless we resented his presumption4 of authority, and whenever he sat with us alone made an exaggerated affectation of being thick in whispered confidences among ourselves.
Zyp was still upstairs and the doctor had not as yet seen her, but he was conscious, I think, in some telepathic way, of an alien presence in the house, for he kept shifting his position uneasily and looking toward the door. A screech5 from his lips suddenly startled us, and we turned round to see the long man standing6 bolt upright, with his face gone the color of a meal sack, and his bold eyes staring prominent.
“What’s the matter?” said Jason.
Gradually the doctor’s face assumed a dark look of rage.
“Which of you was it?” he cried in a broken voice; “tell me, or I’ll crack all your fingers up like fire sticks!”
“What’s the matter?” said Jason, again; “you see for yourself we’ve been sitting by the table all the time you’ve been there.”
“Something spoke7—somebody, I tell you, as I sat here in the chimney corner!” He was beside himself with fury and had great ado to crush his emotion under. But he succeeded, and sat down again trembling all over.
“A curse is on the house!” he muttered; then aloud: “I’ve had enough of your games, you black vermin! I won’t stand it, d’ye hear? Let there be an end!”
We stared, dropped into our seats and were beginning our confidences once more, when the doctor started up a second time with a loud oath, and leaped into the middle of the room.
“Great thunder!” he shouted; “d’ye dare!”
This time we had all heard it—a wailing8 whisper that seemed to come from the neighborhood of the chimney and to utter the words: “Beware the demon9 that sits in the bottle,” and of the whole company only I was not confounded.
As to the doctor, he suddenly turned very white again, and muttered shakingly: “Can it be? I don’t exceed as others do. I swear I have taken less this month than ever before.”
With the terror in his soul he stumbled toward the door and was moving out his hand to reach it, when it opened from the other side and Zyp, as meek10 and pure looking as a young saint, met him on the threshold.
Now, I had that morning, in the course of conversation with the changeling, touched upon Dr. Crackenthorpe and his weaknesses, and that ghostly mention of the bottle convinced me on the moment that only she could be responsible for the mystery—a revelation of impishness which, I need not say, delighted me. The method of her prank3 I may as well describe here. The embrasure for a fireplace in her room had never been fitted with a grate, and the hearthstone itself was cracked and dislocated in a dozen places. By removing some of these fragments she had actually discovered a broken way into the chimney of the sitting room below, down which it was easy to slip a hollow rail of iron which with other lumber11 lay in the attic12. This she had done, listened for her opportunity, and thereupon spoken the ominous13 words.
I think her appearance was the consummation of the doctor’s terror, for a shuddering14 “Oh!” shook from his lips, and he seemed about to drop. And indeed she was somewhat like a spirit, with her wild white face looking from a tangle15 of pheasant-brown hair and her solemn eyes like water glints in little wells of shadow.
She walked past the stricken man all stately, and then Modred and I jumped up and greeted her. At this the doctor’s jaw16 dropped, but his trembling ceased and he watched us with injected eyes. Holding my two hands, Zyp looked coyly round, leaning backward.
“I love a tall man,” she whispered; “he has more in him than a short one.”
The doctor pulled himself together and came straggling across to the table.
“Who the pestilence17 is this?” he said, in a voice not yet quite under his command.
Zyp let go my hands and curtsied like a wild flower.
It had fallen on the floor by the chimney, and she picked it up and went to him with a winning expression.
“Where is your tobacco, please?”
Mechanically he brought a round tin box from his pocket and handed it to her. Then it was a study in elfin coquetry to see the way in which she daintily coaxed19 the weed into the bowl and afterward20 sucking at the pipe stem with her determined21 little red lips to see if it drew properly. This done, she presented the mouthpiece to the doctor’s consideration, as if it were a baby’s “comforter.”
“Now,” she said, “sit down and I’ll bring you your glass.”
But at this the four of us, including Dr. Crackenthorpe, drew back. My father was no man to allow his pleasures to be encroached upon unbidden, and we three, at least, knew it as much as our skins were worth to offer practical hospitality in his absence.
“Where is the strong drink?” she said.
Modred tittered. “In that cupboard over the mantel shelf, if you must know,” he said.
Zyp had the bottle out in a twinkling and a glass with it. She poured out a stiff rummer, added water from a stone bottle on a corner shelf, and presented the grateful offering to the visitor, who had reseated himself by the table.
His scruples23 of conscience and discretion24 grew faint in the near neighborhood of the happy cordial. He seized the glass and impulsively25 took half the grog at a breath. Zyp clapped her hands joyfully26, whereupon he clumped28 down the glass on the table with a dismayed look.
“Well,” he said, “you’re an odd little witch, upon my word. What Robin29 Goodfellow fathered you, I should like to know?”
“He’s no father,” said Zyp. “He’s too full of tricks for a family man. I could tell you things of him.”
“Tell us some then,” said the doctor.
What Zyp would have answered I don’t know, for at that moment my father walked into the room. If he had had what is vulgarly called a skinful, he was not drunk, for he moved steadily30 up to the little group at the table with a scowl31 contracting his forehead. The half-emptied tumbler had caught his eye immediately and he pointed32 to it. I was conscious that the doctor quaked a little.
“Pray make yourself at home,” said my father, and caught up the glass and flung its contents in the other’s face. In a moment the two men were locked in a savage33, furious embrace, till, crashing over a chair, they were flung sprawling34 on the floor and apart. Before they could come together again Zyp alone of us had placed herself between them, fearless and beautiful, and had broken into a quaint35 little song:
“Smooth down her fur,
Rub sleep over her eyes,
Sweet, never stir.
Kiss down the coat of her
There, where she lies
She sung, and whether it was the music or the strangeness of the interruption, I shall never know; only the wonderful fact remains37 that, with the sound of her voice, the great passion seemed to die out of the two foes38 and to give place to a pleasant conceit39, comical in its way, that they had only been rollicking together.
“Well,” said my father, without closer allusion40 to his brutality41, “the liquor was choice Schiedam, and it’s gone.”
He sat down, called for another glass, helped himself to a noggin and pushed the bottle roughly across to Dr. Crackenthorpe, who had already reseated himself opposite.
“Sing again, girl,” said my father, but Zyp shook her head.
“I never do anything to order,” she said, “but the fairies move me to dance.”
She blew out the lamp as she spoke and glided42 to a patch of light that fell from the high May moon through the window on to the rough boards of the room. Into this light she dipped her hands and then passed them over her hair and face as though she were washing herself in the mystic fountain of the night; and all the time her murmuring voice accompanied the action in little trills of laughter and words not understandable. Presently she fell to dancing, slowly at first and dividing her presence between glow and gloom; but gradually the supple43 motion of her body increased, step by step, until she was footing it as wildly as a young hamadryad to her own leaping shadow on the floor.
Suddenly she sprung from the moonlit square, danced over to Dr. Crackenthorpe and, whispering awfully44 in his ear, “Beware the demon that sits in the bottle,” ran from the room.
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1
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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2
pranks
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| n.玩笑，恶作剧( prank的名词复数 ) | |
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3
prank
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| n.开玩笑，恶作剧；v.装饰；打扮；炫耀自己 | |
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4
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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5
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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6
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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7
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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8
wailing
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| v.哭叫，哀号( wail的现在分词 )；沱 | |
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9
demon
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| n.魔鬼，恶魔 | |
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10
meek
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| adj.温顺的，逆来顺受的 | |
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11
lumber
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| n.木材，木料；v.以破旧东西堆满；伐木；笨重移动 | |
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12
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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13
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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14
shuddering
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| v.战栗( shudder的现在分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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15
tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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16
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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17
pestilence
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| n.瘟疫 | |
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18
orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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19
coaxed
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| v.哄，用好话劝说( coax的过去式和过去分词 )；巧言骗取；哄劝，劝诱 | |
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20
afterward
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| adv.后来；以后 | |
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21
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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22
disdain
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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23
scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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24
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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25
impulsively
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| adv.冲动地 | |
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26
joyfully
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| adv. 喜悦地, 高兴地 | |
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27
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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28
clumped
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| adj.[医]成群的v.（树、灌木、植物等的）丛、簇( clump的过去式和过去分词 )；（土、泥等）团；块；笨重的脚步声 | |
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29
robin
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| n.知更鸟，红襟鸟 | |
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30
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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31
scowl
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| vi.(at)生气地皱眉，沉下脸，怒视；n.怒容 | |
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32
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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33
savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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34
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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35
quaint
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| adj.古雅的，离奇有趣的，奇怪的 | |
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36
bluebells
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| n.圆叶风铃草( bluebell的名词复数 ) | |
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37
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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38
foes
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| 敌人，仇敌( foe的名词复数 ) | |
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39
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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40
allusion
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| n.暗示，间接提示 | |
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41
brutality
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| n.野蛮的行为，残忍，野蛮 | |
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42
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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43
supple
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| adj.柔软的，易弯的，逢迎的，顺从的，灵活的；vt.使柔软，使柔顺，使顺从；vi.变柔软，变柔顺 | |
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44
awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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