旧式女孩 英文版 An Old-fashioned Girl
露意莎.梅.奥尔科特 Louisa May Alcott
CHAPTER IV LITTLE THINGS Page 1
"IT 'S so wainy, I can't go out, and evwybody is so cwoss theywon't play with me," said Maud, when Polly found her fretting onthe stairs, and paused to ask the cause of her wails.
"I 'll play with you; only don't scream and wake your mother. Whatshall we play?"
"I don't know; I 'm tired of evwything, 'cause my toys are allbwoken, and my dolls are all sick but Clawa," moaned Maud,giving a jerk to the Paris doll which she held upside down by oneleg in the most unmaternal manner.
"I 'm going to dress a dolly for my little sister; would n't you like tosee me do it?" asked Polly, persuasively, hoping to beguile thecross child and finish her own work at the same time.
"No, I should n't, 'cause she 'll look nicer than my Clawa. Herclothes won't come off; and Tom spoilt 'em playing ball with her inthe yard."
"Would n't you like to rip these clothes off, and have me show youhow to make some new ones, so you can dress and undress Claraas much as you like?"
"Yes; I love to cut." And Maud's, face brightened; fordestructiveness is one of the earliest traits of childhood, andripping was Maud's delight.
Establishing themselves in the deserted dining-room, the childrenfell to work; and when Fanny discovered them, Maud waslaughing with all her heart at poor Clara, who, denuded of herfinery, was cutting up all sorts of capers in the hands of her merrylittle mistress.
"I should think you 'd be ashamed to play with dolls, Polly. I haven't touched one this ever so long," said Fanny, looking down with asuperior air.
"I ain't ashamed, for it keeps Maud happy, and will please mysister Kitty; and I think sewing is better than prinking or readingsilly novels, so, now." And Polly stitched away with a resolute air,for she and Fanny had had a little tiff; because Polly would n't lether friend do up her hair "like other folks," and bore her ears.
"Don't be cross, dear, but come and do something nice, it 's so dullto-day," said Fanny, anxious to be friends again, for it was doublydull without Polly.
"Can't; I 'm busy."
"You always are busy. I never saw such a girl. What in the worlddo you find to do all the time?" asked Fanny, watching withinterest the set of the little red merino frock Polly was putting onto her doll.
"Lots of things; but I like to be lazy sometimes as much as you do;just lie on the sofa, and read fairy stories, or think about nothing.Would you have a white-muslin apron or a black silk?" addedPolly, surveying her work with satisfaction.
"Muslin, with pockets and tiny blue bows. I 'll show you how."And forgetting her hate and contempt for dolls, down sat Fanny,soon getting as much absorbed as either of the others.
The dull day brightened wonderfully after that, and the time flewpleasantly, as tongues and needles went together. Grandma peepedin, and smiled at the busy group, saying, "Sew away, my dears;dollies are safe companions, and needlework an accomplishmentthat 's sadly neglected nowadays. Small stitches, Maud; neatbuttonholes, Fan; cut carefully, Polly, and don't waste your cloth.Take pains; and the best needlewoman shall have a pretty bit ofwhite satin for a doll's bonnet."
Fanny exerted herself, and won the prize, for Polly helped Maud,and neglected her own work; but she did n't care much, for Mr.Shaw said, looking at the three bright faces at the tea-table, "Iguess Polly has been making sunshine for you to-day." "No,indeed, sir, I have n't done anything, only dress Maud's doll."
And Polly did n't think she had done much; but it was one of thelittle things which are always waiting to be done in this world ofours, where rainy days come so often, where spirits get out of tune,and duty won't go hand in hand with pleasure. Little things of thissort are especially good work for little people; a kind little thought,an unselfish little act, a cheery little word, are so sweet andcomfortable, that no one can fail to feel their beauty and love thegiver, no matter how small they are. Mothers do a deal of this sortof thing, unseen, unthanked, but felt and remembered longafterward, and never lost, for this is the simple magic that bindshearts together, and keeps home happy. Polly had learned thissecret.
She loved to do the "little things" that others did not see, or weretoo busy to stop for; and while doing them, without a thought ofthanks, she made sunshine for herself as well as others. There wasso much love in her own home, that she quickly felt the want of itin Fanny's, and puzzled herself to find out why these people werenot kind and patient to one another. She did not try to settle thequestion, but did her best to love and serve and bear with each, andthe good will, the gentle heart, the helpful ways and simplemanners of our Polly made her dear to every one, for these virtues,even in a little child, are lovely and attractive.
Mr. Shaw was very kind to her, for he liked her modest, respectfulmanners; and Polly was so grateful for his many favors, that shesoon forgot her fear, and showed her affection in all sorts ofconfiding little ways, which pleased him extremely. She used towalk across the park with him when he went to his office in themorning, talking busily all the way, and saying "Good-by" with anod and a smile when they parted at the great gate. At first, Mr.Shaw did not care much about it; but soon he missed her if she didnot come, and found that something fresh and pleasant seemed tobrighten all his day, if a small, gray-coated figure, with anintelligent face, a merry voice, and a little hand slipped confidinglyinto his, went with him through the wintry park. Coming homelate, he liked to see a curly, brown head watching at the window;to find his slippers ready, his paper in its place, and a pair ofwilling feet, eager to wait upon him. "I wish my Fanny was morelike her," he often said to himself, as he watched the girls, whilethey thought him deep in politics or the state of the money market.Poor Mr. Shaw had been so busy getting rich, that he had notfound time to teach his children to love him; he was more atleisure now, and as his boy and girls grew up, he missedsomething. Polly was unconsciously showing him what it was, andmaking child-love so sweet, that he felt he could not do without itany more, yet did n't quite know how to win the confidence of thechildren, who had always found him busy, indifferent, andabsentminded.
As the girls were going to bed one night, Polly kissed grandma, asusual, and Fanny laughed at her, saying, "What a baby you are! Weare too old for such things now."
"I don't think people ever are too old to kiss their fathers andmothers," was the quick answer.
"Right, my little Polly;" and Mr. Shaw stretched out his hand to herwith such a kindly look, that Fanny stared surprised, and then said,shyly, "I thought you did n't care about it, father." "I do, my dear:"And Mr. Shaw put out the other hand to Fanny, who gave him adaughterly kiss, quite forgetting everything but the tender feelingthat sprung up in her heart at the renewal of the childish customwhich we never need outgrow.
Mrs. Shaw was a nervous, fussy invalid, who wanted somethingevery five minutes; so Polly found plenty of small things to do forher and did, them so cheerfully, that the poor lady loved to havethe quiet, helpful child near, to wait upon her, read to her, runerrands, or hand the seven different shawls which were continuallybeing put on or off.
Grandma, too, was glad to find willing hands and feet to serve her;and Polly passed many happy hours in the quaint rooms, learningall sorts of pretty arts, and listening to pleasant chat, neverdreaming how much sunshine she brought to the solitary old lady.
Tom was Polly's rock ahead for a long time, because he wasalways breaking out in a new place, and one never knew where tofind him. He tormented yet amused her; was kind one day, and abear the next; at times she fancied he was never going to be badagain, and the next thing she knew he was deep in mischief, andhooted at the idea of repentance and reformation. Polly gave himup as a hard case; but was so in the habit of helping any one whoseemed in trouble, that she was good to him simply because shecould n't help it.
"What 's the matter? Is your lesson too hard for you?" she askedone evening, as a groan made her look across the table to whereTom sat scowling over a pile of dilapidated books, with his handsin his hair, as if his head was in danger of flying asunder with thetremendous effort he was making.
"Hard! Guess it is. What in thunder do I care about the oldCarthaginians? Regulus was n't bad; but I 'm sick of him!" AndTom dealt "Harkness's Latin Reader" a thump, which expressed hisfeelings better than words.
"I like Latin, and used to get on well when I studied it with Jimmy.Perhaps I can help you a little bit," said Polly, as Tom wiped hishot face and refreshed himself with a peanut.
"You? pooh! girls' Latin don't amount to much anyway," was thegrateful reply.
But Polly was used to him now, and, nothing daunted, took a lookat the grimy page in the middle of which Tom had stuck. She readit so well, that the young gentleman stopped munching to regardher with respectful astonishment, and when she stopped, he said,suspiciously, "You are a sly one, Polly, to study up so you canshow off before me. But it won't do, ma'am; turn over a dozenpages, and try again."
Polly obeyed, and did even better than before, saying, as shelooked up, with a laugh, "I 've been through the whole book; soyou won't catch me that way, Tom."
"I say, how came you to know such a lot?" asked Tom, muchimpressed.
"I studied with Jimmy, and kept up with him, for father let us betogether in all our lessons. It was so nice, and we learned so fast!"
Done!" cried Tom, presently. 'll.
"Tell me about Jimmy. He 's your brother, is n't he?"
"Yes; but he 's dead, you know. I 'll tell about him some other time;you ought to study now, and perhaps I can help you," said Polly,with a little quiver of the lips.
"Should n't wonder if you could." And Tom spread the bookbetween them with a grave and business-like air, for he felt thatPolly had got the better of him, and it behooved him to do his bestfor the honor of his sex. He went at the lesson with a will, andsoon floundered out of his difficulties, for Polly gave him a lifthere and there, and they went on swimmingly, till they came tosome rules to be learned. Polly had forgotten them, so they, bothcommitted them to memory; Tom, with hands in his pockets,rocked to and fro, muttering rapidly, while Polly twisted the littlecurl on her forehead and stared at the wall, gabbling with all hermight.
"Done!" cried Tom, presently.
"Done!" echoed Polly; and then they heard each other recite tillboth were perfect "That 's pretty good fun," said Tom, joyfully,tossing poor Harkness away, and feeling that the pleasantexcitement of companionship could lend a charm even to LatinGrammar.
"Now, ma'am, we 'll take a turn at algibbera. I like that as much asI hate Latin."
Polly accepted the invitation, and soon owned that Tom could beather here. This fact restored his equnimity; but he did n't crow overher, far from it; for he helped her with a paternal patience thatmade her eyes twinkle with suppressed fun, as he soberlyexplained and illustrated, unconsciously imitating Dominie Deane,till Polly found it difficult to keep from laughing in his face.
"You may have another go at it any, time you like," generouslyremarked Tom, as he shied the algebra after the Latin Reader.
"I 'll come every evening, then. I 'd like to, for I have n't studied abit since I came. You shall try and make me like algebra, and I 'lltry and make you like Latin, will you?"
"Oh, I 'd like it well enough, if there was any one explain it to me.Old Deane puts us through double-quick, and don't give a fellowtime to ask questions when we read."
"Ask your father; he knows."
"Don't believe he does; should n't dare to bother him, if he did."
"Why not?"
"He 'd pull my ears, and call me a 'stupid,' or tell me not to worryhim."
"I don't think he would. He 's very kind to me, and I ask lots ofquestions."
"He likes you better than he does me."
"Now, Tom! it 's wrong of you to say so. Of course he loves youever so much more than he does me," cried Polly, reprovingly.
"Why don't he show it then?" muttered Tom, with a half-wistful,half-defiant glance toward the library door, which stood ajar.
"You act so, how can he?" asked Polly, after a pause, in which sheput Tom's question to herself, and could find no better reply thanthe one she gave him.
"Why don't he give me my velocipede? He said, if I did well atschool for a month, I should have it; and I 've been pegging awaylike fury for most six weeks, and he don't do a thing about it. Thegirls get their duds, because they tease. I won't do that anyway; butyou don't catch me studying myself to death, and no pay for it."
"It is too bad; but you ought to do it because it 's right, and nevermind being paid," began Polly, trying to be moral, but secretlysympathizing heartily with poor Tom.
"Don't you preach, Polly. If the governor took any notice of me,and cared how I got on, I would n't mind the presents so much; buthe don't care a hang, and never even asked if I did well lastdeclamation day, when I 'd gone and learned 'The Battle of LakeRegillus,' because he said he liked it."
"Oh, Tom! Did you say that? It 's splendid! Jim and I used to sayHoratius together, and it was such fun. Do speak your piece to me,I do so like 'Macaulay's Lays.'"
"It 's dreadful long," began Tom; but his face brightened, forPolly's interest soothed his injured feelings, and he was glad toprove his elocutionary powers. He began without much spirit; butsoon the martial ring of the lines fired him, and before he knew it,he was on his legs thundering away in grand style, while Pollylistened with kindling face and absorbed attention. Tom diddeclaim well, for he quite forgot himself, and delivered the stirringballad with an energy that made Polly flush and tingle withadmiration and delight, and quite electrified a second listener, whohad heard all that went on, and watched the little scene frombehind his newspaper.
As Tom paused, breathless, and Polly clapped her handsenthusiastically, the sound was loudly echoed from behind him.Both whirled round, and there was Mr. Shaw, standing in thedoorway, applauding with all his might.
Tom looked much abashed, and said not a word; Polly ran to Mr.Shaw, and danced before him, saying, eagerly, "Was n't itsplendid? Did n't he do well? May n't he have his velocipedenow?"
"Capital, Tom; you 'll be an orator yet. Learn another piece likethat, and I 'll come and hear you speak it. Are you ready for yourvelocipede, hey?"
Polly was right; and Tom owned that "the governor" was kind, didlike him and had n't entirely forgotten his promise. The boy turnedred with pleasure, and picked at the buttons on his jacket, whilelistening to this unexpected praise; but when he spoke, he lookedstraight up in his father's face, while his own shone with pleasure,as he answered, in one breath, "Thankee, sir. I 'll do it, sir. Guess Iam, sir!"
"Very good; then look out for your new horse tomorrow, sir." AndMr. Shaw stroked the fuzzy red head with a kind hand, feeling afatherly pleasure in the conviction that there was something in hisboy after all.
Tom got his velocipede next day, named it Black Auster, inmemory of the horse in "The Battle of Lake Regillus," and came togrief as soon as he began to ride his new steed.
"Come out and see me go it," whispered Tom to Polly, after threedays' practice in the street, for he had already learned to ride in therink.
Polly and Maud willingly went, and watched his struggles, withdeep interest, till he got an upset, which nearly put an end to hisvelocipeding forever.
than he does me.", we 'll take a turn at algibbera.
"Hi, there! Auster's coming!" shouted Tom, as came rattling downthe long, steep street outside the park.
They stepped aside, and he whizzed by, arms and legs going likemad, with the general appearance of a runaway engine. It wouldhave been a triumphant descent, if a big dog had not bouncedsuddenly through one of the openings, and sent the whole concernhelter-skelter into the gutter. Polly laughed as she ran to view theruin. for Tom lay flat on his back with the velocipede atop him,while the big dog barked wildly, and his master scolded him forhis awkwardness. But when she saw Tom's face, Polly wasfrightened, for the color had all gone out of it, his eyes lookedstrange and dizzy, and drops of blood began to trickle from a greatcut on his forehead. The man saw it, too, and had him up in aminute; but he could n't stand, and stared about him in a dazed sortof way, as he sat on the curbstone, while Polly held herhandkerchief to his forehead, and pathetically begged to know ifhe was killed.
"Don't scare mother, I 'm all right. Got upset, did n't I?" he asked,presently, eyeing the prostrate velocipede with more anxiety aboutits damages than his own.
"I knew you 'd hurt yourself with that horrid thing just let it be, andcome home, for your head bleeds dreadfully, and everybody islooking at us," whispered Polly, trying to tie the little handkerchiefover the ugly cut.
"Come on, then. Jove! how queer my head feels! Give us a boost,please. Stop howling, Maud, and come home. You bring themachine, and I 'll pay you, Pat." As he spoke, Tom slowly pickedhimself and steadying himself by Polly's shoulder, issuedcommands, and the procession fell into line. First, the big dog,barking at intervals; then the good-natured Irishman, trundling"that divil of a whirligig," as he disrespectfully called the idolizedvelocipede; then the wounded hero, supported by the helpful Polly;and Maud brought up the rear in tears, bearing Tom's cap.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Shaw was out driving with grandma, andFanny was making calls; so that there was no one but Polly tostand by Tom, for the parlor-maid turned faint at the sight ofblood, and the chamber-maid lost her wits in the flurry. It was abad cut, and must be sewed up at once, the doctor said, as soon ashe came. "Somebody must hold his head;" he added, as hethreaded his queer little needle.
"I 'll keep still, but if anybody must hold me, let Polly. You ain'tafraid, are you?" asked Tom, with imploring look, for he did n'tlike the idea of being sewed a bit.
Polly was just going to shrink away, saying, "Oh I can't!" when sheremembered that Tom once called her a coward. Here was achance to prove that she was n't; besides, poor Tom had no oneelse to help him; so she came up to the sofa where he lay, andnodded reassuringly, as she put a soft little hand on either side ofthe damaged head.
"You are a trump, Polly," whispered Tom. Then he set his teeth,clenched his hands, lay quite still, and bore it like a man. It was allover in a minute or two, and when he had had a glass of wine, andwas nicely settled on his bed, he felt pretty comfortable, in spite ofthe pain in his head; and being ordered to keep quiet, he said,"Thank you ever so much, Polly," and watched her with a gratefulface as she crept away.