老妇人的故事 英文版The Old Wives' Tale
阿诺德.本涅特 Arnold Bennett
II
"Now, really, Mr. Povey, this is not like you," said Mrs. Baines,who, on her way into the shop, had discovered the Indispensable inthe cutting-out room.
It is true that the cutting-out room was almost Mr. Povey'ssanctum, whither he retired from time to time to cut out suits ofclothes and odd garments for the tailoring department. It is truethat the tailoring department flourished with orders, employingseveral tailors who crossed legs in their own homes, and thatappointments were continually being made with customers fortrying-on in that room. But these considerations did not affectMrs. Baines's attitude of disapproval.
"I'm just cutting out that suit for the minister," said Mr. Povey.
The Reverend Mr. Murley, superintendent of the Wesleyan Methodistcircuit, called on Mr. Baines every week. On a recent visit Mr.Baines had remarked that the parson's coat was ageing into green,and had commanded that a new suit should be built and presented toMr. Murley. Mr. Murley, who had a genuine mediaeval passion forsouls, and who spent his money and health freely in gratifying thepassion, had accepted the offer strictly on behalf of Christ, andhad carefully explained to Mr. Povey Christ's use for multifariouspockets.
"I see you are," said Mrs. Baines tartly. "But that's no reasonwhy you should be without a coat--and in this cold room too. Youwith toothache!"
The fact was that Mr. Povey always doffed his coat when cuttingout. Instead of a coat he wore a tape-measure.
"My tooth doesn't hurt me," said he, sheepishly, dropping thegreat scissors and picking up a cake of chalk.
"Fiddlesticks!" said Mrs. Baines.
This exclamation shocked Mr. Povey. It was not unknown on the lipsof Mrs. Baines, but she usually reserved it for members of her ownsex. Mr. Povey could not recall that she had ever applied it toany statement of his. "What's the matter with the woman?" hethought. The redness of her face did not help him to answer thequestion, for her face was always red after the operations ofFriday in the kitchen.
"You men are all alike," Mrs. Baines continued. "The very thoughtof the dentist's cures you. Why don't you go in at once to Mr.Critchlow and have it out--like a man?"
Mr. Critchlow extracted teeth, and his shop sign said "Bone-setterand chemist." But Mr. Povey had his views.
"I make no account of Mr. Critchlow as a dentist," said he.
"Then for goodness' sake go up to Oulsnam's."
"When? I can't very well go now, and to-morrow is Saturday."
"Why can't you go now?"
"Well, of course, I COULD go now," he admitted.
It's all RIGHT, I hope!
"Let me advise you to go, then, and don't come back with thattooth in your head. I shall be having you laid up next. Show somepluck, do!"
"Oh! pluck--!" he protested, hurt.
At that moment Constance came down the passage singing.
"Constance, my pet!" Mrs. Baines called.
"Yes, mother." She put her head into the room. "Oh!" Mr. Povey wasassuming his coat.
"Mr. Povey is going to the dentist's."
"Yes, I'm going at once," Mr. Povey confirmed.
"Oh! I'm so GLAD!" Constance exclaimed. Her face expressed a puresympathy, uncomplicated by critical sentiments. Mr. Povey rapidlybathed in that sympathy, and then decided that he must showhimself a man of oak and iron.
"It's always best to get these things done with," said he, withstern detachment. "I'll just slip my overcoat on."
"Here it is," said Constance, quickly. Mr. Povey's overcoat andhat were hung on a hook immediately outside the room, in thepassage. She gave him the overcoat, anxious to be of service.
"I didn't call you in here to be Mr. Povey's valet," said Mrs.Baines to herself with mild grimness; and aloud: "I can't stay inthe shop long, Constance, but you can be there, can't you, tillMr. Povey comes back? And if anything happens run upstairs andtell me."
"Yes, mother," Constance eagerly consented. She hesitated and thenturned to obey at once.
"I want to speak to you first, my pet," Mrs. Baines stopped her.And her tone was peculiar, charged with import, confidential, andtherefore very flattering to Constance.
"I think I'll go out by the side-door," said Mr. Povey. "It'll benearer."
This was truth. He would save about ten yards, in two miles, bygoing out through the side-door instead of through the shop. Whocould have guessed that he was ashamed to be seen going to thedentist's, afraid lest, if he went through the shop, Mrs. Bainesmight follow him and utter some remark prejudicial to his dignitybefore the assistants? (Mrs. Baines could have guessed, and did.)
"You won't want that tape-measure," said Mrs. Baines, dryly, asMr. Povey dragged open the side-door. The ends of the forgottentape-measure were dangling beneath coat and overcoat.
"Oh!" Mr. Povey scowled at his forgetfulness.
"I'll put it in its place," said Constance, offering to receivethe tape-measure.
"Thank you," said Mr. Povey, gravely. "I don't suppose they'll belong over my bit of a job," he added, with a difficult, miserablesmile.
Then he went off down King Street, with an exterior of gaybriskness and dignified joy in the fine May morning. But there wasno May morning in his cowardly human heart.
"Hi! Povey!" cried a voice from the Square.
But Mr. Povey disregarded all appeals. He had put his hand to theplough, and he would not look back.
"Hi! Povey!"
Useless!
Mrs. Baines and Constance were both at the door. A middle-aged manwas crossing the road from Boulton Terrace, the lofty erection ofnew shops which the envious rest of the Square had decided to call"showy." He waved a hand to Mrs. Baines, who kept the door open.
Constance blushed, full of pride. Mrs. Povey, wife of "our Mr.Povey's" renowned cousin, the high-class confectioner and baker inBoulton Terrace, was a frequent subject of discussion in theBaines family,, but this was absolutely the first time that Mrs.Baines had acknowledged, in presence of Constance, the marked andgrowing change which had characterized Mrs. Povey's conditionduring recent months. Such frankness on the part of her mother,coming after the decision about leaving school, proved indeed thatConstance had ceased to be a mere girl.
"Good morning, doctor."
The doctor, who carried a little bag and wore riding-breeches (hewas the last doctor in Bursley to abandon the saddle for the dog-cart), saluted and straightened his high, black stock.
"Morning! Morning, missy! Well, it's a boy."
No, mother!"cried a voice from the .
"What? Yonder?" asked Mrs. Baines, indicating the confectioner's.
Dr. Harrop nodded. "I wanted to inform him," said he, jerking hisshoulder in the direction of the swaggering coward.
"What did I tell you, Constance?" said Mrs. Baines, turning to herdaughter.
Constance's confusion was equal to her pleasure. The alert doctorhad halted at the foot of the two steps, and with one hand in thepocket of his "full-fall" breeches, he gazed up, smiling out oflittle eyes, at the ample matron and the slender virgin.
"Yes," he said. "Been up most of th' night. Difficult! Difficult!"
"It's all RIGHT, I hope?"
"Oh yes. Fine child! Fine child! But he put his mother to sometrouble, for all that. Nothing fresh?" This time he lifted hiseyes to indicate Mr. Baines's bedroom.
"No," said Mrs. Baines, with a different expression.
"Keeps cheerful?"
"Yes."
"Good! A very good morning to you."
He strode off towards his house, which was lower down the street.
"I hope she'll turn over a new leaf now," observed Mrs. Baines toConstance as she closed the door. Constance knew that her motherwas referring to the confectioner's wife; she gathered that thehope was slight in the extreme.
Not a word!"I'm just cutting.
"What did you want to speak to me about, mother?" she asked, as away out of her delicious confusion.
"Shut that door," Mrs. Baines replied, pointing to the door whichled to the passage; and while Constance obeyed, Mrs. Bainesherself shut the staircase-door. She then said, in a low, guardedvoice--
"What's all this about Sophia wanting to be a school-teacher?"
"Wanting to be a school-teacher?" Constance repeated, in tones ofamazement.
"Yes. Hasn't she said anything to you?"
"Not a word!"
"Well, I never! She wants to keep on with Miss Chetwynd and be ateacher." Mrs. Baines had half a mind to add that Sophia hadmentioned London. But she restrained herself. There are somethings which one cannot bring one's self to say. She added,"Instead of going into the shop!"
"I never heard of such a thing!" Constance murmured brokenly, inthe excess of her astonishment. She was rolling up Mr. Povey'stape-measure.
"Neither did I!" said Mrs. Baines.
"And shall you let her, mother?"
"Neither your father nor I would ever dream of it!" Mrs. Bainesreplied, with calm and yet terrible decision. "I only mentioned itto you because I thought Sophia would have told you something."
"No, mother!"
As Constance put Mr. Povey's tape-measure neatly away in itsdrawer under the cutting-out counter, she thought how serious lifewas--what with babies and Sophias. She was very proud of hermother's confidence in her; this simple pride filled her ardentbreast with a most agreeable commotion. And she wanted to helpeverybody, to show in some way how much she sympathized with andloved everybody. Even the madness of Sophia did not weaken herlonging to comfort Sophia.