旧式女孩 英文版 An Old-fashioned Girl
露意莎.梅.奥尔科特 Louisa May Alcott
CHAPTER XVII PLAYING GRANDMOTHER Page 1
I THINK Tom had the hardest time of all, for besides the familytroubles, he had many of his own to perplex and harass him.College scrapes were soon forgotten in greater afflictions; butthere were plenty of tongues to blame "that extravagant dog," andplenty of heads to wag ominously over prophecies of the good timeTom Shaw would now make on the road to ruin. As reportersflourish in this country, of course Tom soon heard all the friendlycriticisms passed upon him and his career, and he suffered morethan anybody guessed; for the truth that was at the bottom of thegossip filled him with the sharp regret and impotent wrath againsthimself as well as others, which drives many a proud fellow, soplaced, to destruction, or the effort that redeems boyish folly, andmakes a man of him.
Now that he had lost his heritage, Tom seemed to see for the firsttime how goodly it had been, how rich in power, pleasure, andgracious opportunities. He felt its worth even while heacknowledged, with the sense of justice that is strong in manlymen, how little he deserved a gift which he had so misused. Hebrooded over this a good deal, for, like the bat in the fable, he didn't seem to find any place in the new life which had begun for all.Knowing nothing of business, he was not of much use to his father,though he tried to be, and generally ended by feeling that he was ahindrance, not a help. Domestic affairs were equally out of hisline, and the girls, more frank than their father, did not hesitate totell him he was in the way when he offered to lend a handanywhere. After the first excitement was over, and he had time tothink, heart and energy seemed to die out, remorse got hold of him,and, as generous, thoughtless natures are apt to do when suddenlyconfronted with conscience, he exaggerated his faults and folliesinto sins of the deepest dye, and fancied he was regarded by othersas a villain and an outcast. Pride and penitence made him shrinkout of sight as much as possible, for he could not bear pity, evenwhen silently expressed by a friendly hand or a kindly eye. Hestayed at home a good deal, and loafed about with a melancholyand neglected air, vanished when anyone came, talked very little,and was either pathetically humble or tragically cross. He wantedto do something, but nothing seemed to appear; and while hewaited to get his poise after the downfall, he was so very miserablethat I 'm afraid, if it had not been for one thing, my poor Tomwould have got desperate, and been a failure. But when he seemedmost useless, outcast, and forlorn, he discovered that one personneeded him, one person never found him in the way, one personalways welcomed and clung to him with the strongest affection ofa very feeble nature. This dependence of his mother's was Tom'ssalvation at that crisis of his life; and the gossips, who said softlyto one another over their muffins and tea. "It really would be arelief to that whole family if poor, dear Mrs. Shaw could be ahem!mercifully removed," did not know that the invalid's weak, idlehands were unconsciously keeping the son safe in that quiet room,where she gave him all that she had to give, mother-love, till hetook heart again, and faced the world ready to fight his battlesmanfully.
"Dear, dear! how old and bent poor father does look. I hope hewon't forget to order my sweetbread," sighed Mrs. Shaw one day,as she watched her husband slowly going down the street.
Tom, who stood by her, idly spinning the curtain tassel, followedthe familiar figure with his eye, and seeing how gray the hair hadgrown, how careworn the florid face, and how like a weary oldman his once strong, handsome father walked, he was smitten by anew pang of self-reproach, and with his usual impetuosity setabout repairing the omission as soon as he discovered it.
"I 'll see to your sweetbread, mum. Good-by, back to dinner," andwith a hasty kiss, Tom was off.
He did n't know exactly what he meant to do, but it had suddenlycome over him, that he was hiding from the storm, and letting hisfather meet it alone; for the old man went to his office every daywith the regularity of a machine, that would go its usual rounduntil it stopped, while the young man stayed at home with thewomen, and let his mother comfort him.
"He has a right to be ashamed of me, but I act as if I was ashamedof him; dare say people think so. I 'll show them that I ain't; yes, bythe powers, I will!" and Tom drew on his gloves with the air of aman about to meet and conquer an enemy.
"Have an arm, sir? If you don't mind I 'll walk down with you.Little commission for mother, nice day, is n't it?"
Tom rather broke down at the end of his speech, for the look ofpleased surprise with which his father greeted him, the alacritywith which he accepted and leaned on the strong arm offered him,proved that the daily walks had been solitary and doubtless sadones. I think Mr. Shaw understood the real meaning of that littleact of respect, and felt better for the hopeful change it seemed toforetell. But he took it quietly, and leaving his face to speak forhim, merely said, "Thanky, Tom; yes, mother will enjoy herdinner twice as much if you order it."
Then they began to talk business with all their might, as if theyfeared that some trace of sentiment might disgrace their masculinedignity. But it made no difference whether they discussed lawsuitsor love, mortgages or mothers, the feeling was all right and theyknew it, so Mr. Shaw walked straighter than usual, and Tom feltthat he was in his proper place again. The walk was not without itstrials, however; for while it did Tom's heart good to see the cordialrespect paid to his father, it tried his patience sorely to see alsoinquisitive or disapproving glances fixed upon himself when hatswere lifted to his father, and to hear the hearty "Good day, Mr.Shaw," drop into a cool or careless, "That 's the son; it 's hard onhim. Wild fellow, do him good."
"Granted; but you need n't hit a man when he 's down," mutteredTom to himself, feeling every moment a stronger desire to dosomething that should silence everybody. "I 'd cut away toAustralia if it was n't for mother; anything, anywhere to get out ofthe way of people who know me. I never can right myself here,with all the fellows watching, and laying wagers whether I sink orswim. Hang Greek and Latin! wish I 'd learned a trade, and hadsomething to fall back upon. Have n't a blessed thing now, butdecent French and my fists. Wonder if old Bell don't want a clerkfor the Paris branch of the business? That would n't be bad; faith, I'll try it."
And when Tom had landed his father safely at the office, to thegreat edification of all beholders, he screwed up his courage, andwent to prefer his request, feeling that the prospect brightened alittle. But Mr. Bell was not in a good humor, and only gave Tom asevere lecture on the error of his ways, which sent him home muchdepressed, and caused the horizon to lower again.
As he roamed about the house that afternoon, trying to calculatehow much an Australian outfit would cost, the sound of livelyvoices and clattering spoons attracted him to the kitchen. There hefound Polly giving Maud lessons in cookery; for the "new help"not being a high-priced article, could not be depended on fordesserts, and Mrs. Shaw would have felt as if the wolf was at thedoor if there was not "a sweet dish" at dinner. Maud had a geniusfor cooking, and Fanny hated it, so that little person was in herglory, studying receipt books, and taking lessons whenever Pollycould give them.
"Gracious me, Tom, don't come now; we are awful busy! Mendon't belong in kitchens," cried Maud, as her brother appeared inthe doorway.
"Could n't think what you were about. Mum is asleep, and Fan out,so I loafed down to see if there was any fun afoot," said Tom,lingering, as if the prospect was agreeable. He was a social fellow,and very grateful just then to any one who helped him to forget hisworries for a time. Polly knew this, felt that his society would notbe a great affliction to herself at least, and whispering to Maud,"He won't know," she added, aloud, "Come in if you like, and stirthis cake for me; it needs a strong hand, and mine are tired. There,put on that apron to keep you tidy, sit here, and take it easy."
"I used to help grandma bat up cake, and rather liked it, if Iremember right," said Tom, letting Polly tie a checked apron onhim, put a big bowl into his hands, and settle him near the table,where Maud was picking raisins, and she herself stirring busilyabout among spice-boxes, rolling-pins, and butter-pots.
"You do it beautifully, Tom. I 'll give you a conundrum to lightenyour labor: Why are bad boys like cake?" asked Polly, anxious tocheer him up.
"Because a good beating makes them better. I doubt that myself,though," answered Tom, nearly knocking the bottom of the bowlout with his energetic demonstrations, for it really was a relief todo something.
"Bright boy! here 's a plum for you," and Polly threw a plumpraisin into his mouth.
"Put in lots, won't you? I 'm rather fond of plum-cake," observedTom, likening himself to Hercules with the distaff, and finding hisemployment pleasant, if not classical.
"I always do, if I can; there 's nothing I like better than to shovel insugar and spice, and make nice, plummy cake for people. It 's oneof the few things I have a gift for."
"You 've hit it this time, Polly; you certainly have a gift for puttinga good deal of both articles into your own and other people's lives,which is lucky, as, we all have to eat that sort of cake, whether welike it or not," observed Tom, so soberly that Polly opened hereyes, and Maud exclaimed, "I do believe he 's preaching."
"Feel as if I could sometimes," continued Tom; then his eye fellupon the dimples in Polly's elbows, and he added, with a laugh,"That 's more in your line, ma'am; can't you give us a sermon?"
"A short one. Life, my brethren, is like plum-cake," began Polly,impressively folding her floury hands. "In some the plums are allon the top, and we eat them gayly, till we suddenly find they aregone. In others the plums sink to the bottom, and we look for themin vain as we go on, and often come to them when it is too late toenjoy them. But in the well-made cake, the plums are wiselyscattered all through, and every mouthful is a pleasure. We makeour own cakes, in a great measure, therefore let us look to it, mybrethren, that they are mixed according to the best receipt, bakedin a well regulated oven, and gratefully eaten with a temperateappetite."
"Good! good!" cried Tom, applauding with the wooden spoon."That 's a model sermon, Polly, short, sweet, sensible, and not a bitsleepy. I 'm one of your parish, and will see that you get your'celery punctooal,' as old Deacon Morse used to say."
" 'Thank you, brother, my wants is few, and ravens scurser thanthey used to be,' as dear old Parson Miller used to answer. Now,Maud, bring on the citron;" and Polly began to put the caketogether in what seemed a most careless and chaotic manner,while Tom and Maud watched with absorbing interest till it wassafely in the oven.
"Now make your custards, dear; Tom may like to beat the eggs foryou; it seems to have a good effect upon his constitution."
"First-rate; hand 'em along," and Tom smoothed his apron with acheerful air. "By the way, Syd's got back. I met him yesterday, andhe treated me like a man and a brother," he added, as if anxious tocontribute to the pleasures of the hour.
"I 'm so glad!" cried Polly, clapping her hands, regardless of theegg she held, which dropped and smashed on the floor at her feet."Careless thing! Pick it up, Maud, I 'll get some more;" and Pollywhisked out of the room, glad of an excuse to run and tell Fan,who had just come in, lest, hearing the news in public, she mightbe startled out of the well-bred composure with which youngladies are expected to receive tidings, even of the most vitalimportance.
"You know all about history, don't you?" asked Maud, suddenly.
"Not quite," modestly answered Tom.
"I just want to know if there really was a man named Sir Philip, inthe time of Queen Elizabeth."
"You mean Sir Philip Sidney? Yes, he lived then and a fine oldfellow he was too."
belong in kitchens," cried Maud, as her brother appeared inthe doorway. named Sir.
"There; I knew the girls did n't mean him," cried Maud, with achop that sent the citron flying.
"What mischief are you up to now, you little magpie?"
"I shan't tell you what they said, because I don't remember much ofit; but I heard Polly and Fan talking about some one dreadfulmysterious, and when I asked who it was, Fan said,'Sir Philip.' Ho!she need n't think I believe it! I saw 'em laugh, and blush, and pokeone another, and I knew it was n't about any old Queen Elizabethman," cried Maud, turning up her nose as far as that somewhatlimited feature would go.
"Look here, you are letting cats out of the bag. Never mind, Ithought so. They don't tell us their secrets, but we are so sharp, wecan't help finding them out, can we?" said Tom, looking so muchinterested, that Maud could n't resist airing her knowledge a little.
"Well, I dare say, it is n't proper for you to know, but I am oldenough now to be told anything, and those girls better mind whatthey say, for I 'm not a stupid chit, like Blanche. I just wish youcould have heard them go on. I 'm sure there 's something very niceabout Mr. Sydney, they looked so pleased when they whisperedand giggled on the bed, and thought I was ripping bonnets, and didn't hear a word."
"Which looked most pleased?" asked Tom, investigating thekitchen boiler with deep interest.
"Well, 'pears to me Polly did; she talked most, and looked funnyand very happy all the time. Fan laughed a good deal, but I guessPolly is the loveress," replied Maud, after a moment's reflection.
"Hold your tongue; she 's coming!" and Tom began to pump as ifthe house was on fire.
Down came Polly, with heightened color, bright eyes, and not asingle egg. Tom took a quick look at her over his shoulder, andpaused as if the fire was suddenly extinguished. Something in hisface made Polly feel a little guilty, so she fell to grating nutmeg,with a vigor which made red cheeks the most natural thing in life.Maud, the traitor, sat demurely at work, looking very like whatTom had called her, a magpie with mischief in its head. Polly felt achange in the atmosphere, but merely thought Tom was tired, soshe graciously dismissed him with a stick of cinnamon, as she hadnothing else just then to lay upon the shrine. "Fan's got the booksand maps you wanted. Go and rest now. I 'm much obliged; here 'syour wages, Bridget."
"Good luck to your messes," answered Tom, as he walked awaymeditatively crunching his cinnamon, and looking as if he did notfind it as spicy as usual. He got his books, but did not read them;for, shutting himself up in the little room called "Tom's den," hejust sat down and brooded.
When he came down to breakfast the next morning, he was greetedwith a general "Happy birthday, Tom!" and at his place lay giftsfrom every member of the family; not as costly as formerly,perhaps, but infinitely dearer, as tokens of the love that hadoutlived the change, and only grown the warmer for the test ofmisfortune. In his present state of mind, Tom felt as if he did notdeserve a blessed thing; so when every one exerted themselves tomake it a happy day for him, he understood what it means "to benearly killed with kindness," and sternly resolved to be an honor tohis family, or perish in the attempt. Evening brought Polly to whatshe called a "festive tea," and when they gathered round the table,another gift appeared, which, though not of a sentimental nature,touched Tom more than all the rest. It was a most delectable cake,with a nosegay atop, and round it on the snowy frosting there ran apink inscription, just as it had been every year since Tom couldremember.
"Name, age, and date, like a nice white tombstone," observedMaud, complacently, at which funereal remark, Mrs. Shaw, whowas down in honor of the day, dropped her napkin, and demandedher salts.
"Whose doing is that?" asked Tom, surveying the gift withsatisfaction; for it recalled the happier birthdays, which seemedvery far away now.
"I did n't know what to give you, for you 've got everything a manwants, and I was in despair till I remembered that dear grandmaalways made you a little cake like that, and that you once said itwould n't be a happy birthday without it. So I tried to make it justlike hers, and I do hope it will prove a good, sweet, plummy one."
"Thank you," was all Tom said, as he smiled at the giver, but Pollyknew that her present had pleased him more than the most eleganttrifle she could have made.
"It ought to be good, for you beat it up yourself, Tom," cried,Maud. "It was so funny to see you working away, and neverguessing who the cake was for. I perfectly trembled every time youopened your mouth, for fear you 'd ask some question about it.That was the reason Polly preached and I kept talking when shewas gone."
"Very stupid of me; but I forgot all about to-day. Suppose we cutit; I don't seem to care for anything else," said Tom, feeling noappetite, but bound to do justice to that cake, if he fell a victim tohis gratitude.
"I hope the plums won't all be at the bottom," said Polly, as sherose to do the honors of the cake, by universal appointment.
"I 've had a good many at the top already, you know," answeredTom, watching the operation with as much interest as if he hadfaith in the omen.
Cutting carefully, slice after slice fell apart; each firm and dark,spicy and rich, under the frosty rime above; and laying a speciallylarge piece in one of grandma's quaint little china plates, Pollyadded the flowers and handed it to Tom, with a look that said agood deal, for, seeing that he remembered her sermon, she wasglad to find that her allegory held good, in one sense at least.Tom's face brightened as he took it, and after an inspection whichamused the others very much he looked up, saying, with an air ofrelief, "Plums all through; I 'm glad I had a hand in it, but Pollydeserves the credit, and must wear the posy," and turning to her, heput the rose into her hair with more gallantry than taste, for a thornpricked her head, the leaves tickled her ear, and the flower wasupside down.
Fanny laughed at his want of skill, but Polly would n't have italtered, and everybody fell to eating cake, as if indigestion was oneof the lost arts. They had a lively tea, and were getting on famouslyafterward, when two letters were brought for Tom, who glanced atone, and retired rather precipitately to his den, leaving Maudconsumed with curiosity, and the older girls slightly excited, forFan thought she recognized the handwriting on one, and Polly, onthe other.
One half an hour and then another elapsed, and Tom did notreturn. Mr. Shaw went out, Mrs. Shaw retired to her room escortedby Maud, and the two girls sat together wondering if anythingdreadful had happened. All of a sudden a voice called, "Polly!" andthat young lady started out of her chair, as if the sound had been athunder-clap.