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 2
He had to keep the house for a week, and laid about looking veryinteresting with a great black patch on his forehead. Every one'petted him;' for the doctor said, that if the blow had been an inchnearer the temple, it would have been fatal, and the thought oflosing him so suddenly made bluff old Tom very precious all atonce. His father asked him how he was a dozen times a day; hismother talked continually of "that dear boy's narrow escape"; andgrandma cockered him up with every delicacy she could invent;and the girls waited on him like devoted slaves. This newtreatment had an excellent effect; for when neglected Tom gotover his first amazement at this change of base, he blossomed outdelightfully, as sick people do sometimes, and surprised his familyby being unexpectedly patient, grateful, and amiable. Nobody everknew how much good it did him; for boys seldom haveconfidences of this sort except with their mothers, and Mrs. Shawhad never found the key to her son's heart. But a little seed wassowed then that took root, and though it grew very slowly, it cameto something in the end. Perhaps Polly helped it a little. Eveningwas his hardest time, for want of exercise made him as restless andnervous as it was possible for a hearty lad to be on such a shortnotice.
He could n't sleep so the girls amused him; Fanny played and readaloud; Polly sung, and told stories; and did the latter so well, that itgot to be a regular thing for her to begin as soon as twilight came,and Tom was settled in his favorite place on grandma's sofa.
"Fire away, Polly," said the young sultan, one evening, as his littleScheherazade sat down in her low chair, after stirring up the firetill the room was bright and cosy.
"I don't feel like stories to-night, Tom. I 've told all I know, andcan't make up any more," answered Polly, leaning her head on herhand with a sorrowful look that Tom had never seen before. Hewatched her a minute, and then asked, curiously, "What were youthinking about, just now, when you sat staring at the fire, andgetting soberer and soberer every minute?
"I was thinking about Jimmy."
"Would you mind telling about him? You know, you said youwould some time; but don't, if you 'd rather not," said Tom,lowering his rough voice respectfully.
"I like to talk about him; but there is n't much to tell," began Polly,grateful for his interest. "Sitting here with you reminded me of theway I used to sit with him when he was sick. We used to have suchhappy times, and it 's so pleasant to think about them now."
"He was awfully good, was n't he?"
"No, he was n't; but he tried to be, and mother says that is half thebattle. We used to get tired of trying; but we kept makingresolutions, and working hard to keep 'em. I don't think I got onmuch; but Jimmy did, and every one loved him."
"Did n't you ever squabble, as we do?"
"Yes, indeed, sometimes; but we could n't stay mad, and alwaysmade it up again as soon as we could. Jimmy used to come roundfirst, and say, 'All serene, Polly,' so kind and jolly, that I could n'thelp laughing and being friends right away."
"Did he not know a lot?"
"Yes, I think he did, for he liked to study, and wanted to get on, sohe could help father. People used to call him a fine boy, and I feltso proud to hear it; but they did n't know half how wise he was,because he did n't show off a bit. I suppose sisters always are grandof their brothers; but I don't believe many girls had as much rightto be as I had."
"Most girls don't care two pins about their brothers; so that showsyou don't know much about it."
"Well, they ought to, if they don't; and they would if the boys wereas kind to them as Jimmy was to me."
"Why, what did he do?"
"Loved me dearly, and was n't ashamed to show it," cried Polly,with a sob in her voice, that made her answer very eloquent.
"What made him die, Polly?" asked Tom, soberly, after littlepause.
"He got hurt coasting, last winter; but he never told which boy didit, and he only lived a week. I helped take care of him; and he wasso patient, I used to wonder at him, for he was in dreadful pain alltime. He gave me his books, and his dog, and his speckled hens,and his big knife, and said, 'Good-by, Polly,' and kissed me the lastthing and then O Jimmy! Jimmy! If he only could come back!"
anything should happen to eitherof you, the other one?
Poor Polly's eyes had been getting fuller and fuller, lips tremblingmore and more, as she went on; when she came to that "good-by,"she could n't get any further, but covered up her face, and cried asher heart would break. Tom was full of sympathy, but did n't knowhow to show it; so he sat shaking up the camphor bottle, and tryingto think of something proper and comfortable to say, when Fannycame to the rescue, and cuddled Polly in her arms, with soothinglittle pats and whispers and kisses, till the tears stopped, and Pollysaid, she "did n't mean to, and would n't any more. I 've beenthinking about my dear boy all the evening, for Tom reminds meof him," she added, with a sigh.
"Me? How can I, when I ain't a bit like him?" cried Tom, amazed.
"But you are in some ways."
"Wish I was; but I can't be, for he was good, you know."
"So are you, when you choose. Has n't he been good and patient,and don't we all like to pet him when he 's clever, Fan?"' said Polly,whose heart was still aching for her brother, and ready for his saketo find virtues even in tormenting Tom.
"Yes; I don't know the boy lately; but he 'll be as bad as ever whenhe 's well," returned Fanny, who had n't much faith in sick-bedrepentances.
"Much you know about it," growled Tom, lying down again, for hehad sat bolt upright when Polly made the astounding declarationthat he was like the well-beloved Jimmy. That simple little historyhad made a deep impression on Tom, and the tearful endingtouched the tender spot that most boys hide so carefully. It is verypleasant to be loved and admired, very sweet to think we shall bemissed and mourned when we die; and Tom was seized with asudden desire to imitate this boy, who had n't done anythingwonderful, yet was so dear to his sister, that she cried for him awhole year after he was dead; so studious and clever, the peoplecalled him "a fine fellow"; and so anxious to be good, that he kepton trying, till he was better even than Polly, whom Tom privatelyconsidered a model of virtue, as girls go.
"I just wish I had a sister like you," he broke out, all of a sudden.
"And I just wish I had a brother like Jim," cried Fanny, for she feltthe reproach in Tom's words, and knew she deserved it.
"I should n't think you 'd envy anybody, for you 've got oneanother," said Polly, with such a wistful look, that it suddenly setTom and Fanny to wondering why they did n't have better timestogether, and enjoy themselves, as Polly and Jim did.
"Fan don't care for anybody but herself," said Tom.
"Tom is such a bear," retorted Fanny.
"I would n't say such things, for if anything should happen to eitherof you, the other one would feel so sorry. Every cross word I eversaid to Jimmy comes back now, and makes me wish I had n't."
Two great tears rolled down Polly's cheeks, and were quietlywiped away; but I think they watered that sweet sentiment, calledfraternal love, which till now had been neglected in the hearts ofthis brother and sister. They did n't say anything then, or make anyplans, or confess any faults; but when they parted for the night,Fanny gave the wounded head a gentle pat (Tom never would haveforgiven her if she had kissed him), and said, in a whisper, "I hopeyou 'll have a good sleep, Tommy, dear."
And Tom nodded back at her, with a hearty "Same to you, Fan."
That was all; but it meant a good deal, for the voices were kind,and the eyes met full of that affection which makes words of littleconsequence. Polly saw it; and though she did n't know that shehad made the sunshine, it shone back upon her so pleasantly, thatshe fell happily asleep, though her Jimmy was n't there to say"good-night."