第27章
加入书架 A- A+
点击下载App,搜索"Jeremy",免费读到尾

  “Goodmorning,“andboltedlikearabbit。EventhenJeremynoticedthathehadpaintonhisfingers,andthattwoofhiswaistcoatbuttonswereunfastened。

  Thendowninthehallwhatconfusiontherewas!Boxeshere,thereandeverywhere。Mother,Father,AuntAmy,UncleSamuel,and,mostinterestingofall,Barbaraandthenewnurse。ThenewnursewascalledMrs。Pateham,andshewasstout,red-cheeked,andsmiling。

  ThebundleinwhitecalledBarbarawas,mosthappily,sleeping;butHamletbarkedatMrs。Pateham,andthatwokeBarbara,whobegantocry。ThenCollinscameinwithhiscoatoff,andthemusclesswellingonhisshoulders,andhandledtheboxesasthoughtheywerepaper,andthecook,andRose,andWilliam,thehandy-boy,andoldJordan,thegardener,andMrs。Preston,aladyfromtwodoorsdown,whosometimescameintohelp,allbegantobobandsmile,andFathersaid:“Now,mydear。Now,mydear,“andHamletwoundhimselfandhisleadroundeverythingthathecouldsee,andHelenfussedandsaid:“Now,Jeremy,“andMissJonessaid:“Now,children,“andlastofallCollinssaid:“Now,mum;now,sir,“andthentheyallwerebundledintothebus,withthecartandtheluggagecomingalongbehind。

  Thedrivethroughthestreetswas,ofcourse,aslovelyasitcouldbe;notintheleastbecauseanyonecouldseeanything——thatwashinderedbythefactthatthewindowsofthebusweresooldthattheywerecrustedwithakindofglassymildew,andnoamountofrubbingonthewindow-panesprovidedonewithaview——butbecausetheinsideofthebuswasinevitablyconnectedwithadventure——

  partlythroughitsmotion,partlythroughitsnoise,andpartlythroughitslovelysmell。Thesewere,ofcourse,Jeremy’sviews,anditcan’tdefinitelybeassertedthatallgrown-uppeoplesharedthem。ButwheneverJeremyhadriddeninthatbushehadalwaysbeenonhiswaytosomethingdelightful。Themotion,therefore,rejoicedhisheart,althoughtheviolenceofitwassuchthateveryonewasthrownagainsteveryoneelse,sothatUncleSamuelwassuddenlyhurledagainstthebonnetofMissJones,andHelenstruckAuntAmyinthechest,andJeremyhimselfdivedintohissisterBarbara。Astothesmell,itwasthatlovelywell-knownonethathasinitmiceandstraw,wetumbrellasandwhisky,goloshesandcandle-grease,dustandgreenpaint!Jeremylovedit,andsniffedonthisoccasionsooftenthatMissJonestoldhimtoblowhisnose。Astothenoise,whoistherewhodoesnotrememberthatrattleandclatter,thatsudden,deafeningreportasofthefiringofahundredfirearms,thesuddenpausewheneveryboltandbarandhingesighsandmoanslikethewindorastormysea,andthenthatsuddenscreamoftheclatteringwindows,whenitisasthoughafrenziedcook,havingreceivednoticetoleave,wasbreakingeveryscrapofchinainthekitchen?“Whodoesnotknowthatlastmaddenedroarasthevehiclestumblesacrossthelastpieceofcobbledroad——aroarthatdrowns,withasavageanddeterminedtriumph,allthoselastdirectionsnottoforgetthis,that,andtheother;allthoseinquiriesastowhetherthis,that,andtheotherhadbeenremembered?Cobblesaregonenow,andoldbusessleepindesertedcourts,andCollins,alas,isnot。Hisyoungestsonhasamotor-garage,andPolchesterhasasphalt——sictransitgloria,mundi。

  Jeremy,clutchinghisgreenboxwithonehandandHamlet’sleadwiththeother,wasinanecstasyofhappiness。Thelouderthenoise,therockingmotion,thestrongerthesmell,thebetter。“Isn’titlovely?“hemurmuredtoMissJonesduringoneofthepauses。

  ItmaybethatitwasatthismomentthatUncleSamuelfinallymadeuphismindaboutJeremy。Inspiteofhisdislike,evenhatredofchildren,hehadbeencomingslowly,duringthelasttwoyears,toanaffectionfor,andinterestin,hisnephewthatwassomethingquitenewtohiscynical,egoisticnature。IthadleaptintoactivityatChristmastime,thenhaddiedagain。Nowas,flungfirstintohissister’sbonyarms,thenontotheterrifiedspectaclesofhisnieceMary,hetriedtorecoverhimself,hewascaughtandheldbythatpictureofhissmallnephew,seated,solidandsquare,inhisbluesailorsuit,hisbarekneesswinging,hishandclutchinghispreciousboxwithanenergythatdefiedFateitselftotakeitfromhim,hismouthset,hiseyesstaring,radiantwithjoy,infrontofhim。

  Onarrivalatthestationitwasfoundthattheoneo’clocktoLiskanewas“justaboutdue,“sothattherewasnotimetobelost。

  Theyhadtorushalongunderthegreatirondome,passingbythemainline,disregardingthetempestuousexpressfromTruxethatdrewup,asitweredisdainfully,justastheypassed,andfindingthemodestsidelinetoLiskaneandSt。Lowe。HeretherewaseverykindofexcitementforJeremy。Anyonewhohasanykindofpassionforobservationmusthavediscoveredlongagothatasidelinehaseversomuchmorecharmandappealaboutitthanamainline。Amainlineisscornfulofthestationinwhoseheartitconsentsforamomenttolinger,itseyesarestaringforwardtowardsthevastcitieswhoareimpatientlyawaitingit;butasidelinehasitsveryhomehere。

  Somuchgossippassesfromdaytodayaboveitsrailsandgossipthathasforitscircumferencefivegreenfields,acountryroad,andababblingbrook,thatitknowsallitspassengersbyheart。

  Tothepeoplewhotravelonasideline,thetrainitselfisstillsomethingofawonder。Howmuchmorewasthattruethirtyyearsago。

  Onthisespeciallinetherewereonlytwostations-LiskaneandSt。

  Lowe,and,ofacertainty,thesestationswouldnotevennowbeinexistencewereitnotthatSt。Lowewasafishingcentreofverygreatimportance。ThelittledistrictthatcomprehendedSt。Lowe,GarthinRoselands,StoepinRoselands,Lucent-Polwint,Rafiel,andallthesmallerhamletsaroundthem,wasfedbythisline;but,evenso,thelittletrainwasnevercrowded。Touristsdidnot,andevennowdonot,gotoPolwintandSt。Lowebecause“theysmellsofishy,“nortoRafield“becauseit’stoofarfromtherailway,“nortotheRoselandvalleys“becausethere’snothingtoseethere。“,Maythesereasonsholdgoodformanyyearstocome!

  Todaytherewerethreefarmersinbrownleggings,withpipes,andthickknottedwalking-sticks,twoorthreewomenwithbaskets,andachildorso,andanamiable,absent-mindedclergymaninablackclothsofadedthatitwasnowgreen,readingTheTimes,andshakinghisheadoveritashestumbledupanddowntheplatform。Oneofthefarmershadalarge,woollysheep-dog,who,ofcourse,excitedHamlettoafrenzy。Jeremy,therefore,hadhistimefullyoccupiedincheckingthis;buthehad,nevertheless,theopportunitytoobservehowoneofthefarmerspuffedthesmokeoutofhischeeksasthoughhewereanengine;howoneofthewomen,withabackasbroadasawall,hadredstockings;andhowtheclergymannearlyfellontotherailway-lineeverytimeheturnedround,andonlysavedhimselffromdisasterbyamiracle。Thetrainarrivingatlast,theyallclimbedintoit,andthenhadtowaitforahot,grillinghalf-

  hourwhilsttheenginemadeupitsmindthatitwasworthitswhiletotakeallthetroubletostartoffagain。

  “Anhourlate,uponmyword,“saidMr。Coleangrily,whenatlast,withasnoreandaheave,andagruntandascream,theystarted。

  “It’sreallytoobad。Ishallhavetocomplain,“which,aseveryonepresentknew,hehadnottheslightestintentionofdoing。InJeremy’scarriagetherewerehisfather,hismother,UncleSamuel,himself,Mary,and,ofcourse,Hamlet。Hamlethadneverbeen,inatrainbefore,andhisterroratthewaythatthegroundquiveredunderhimwaspitifultosee。Helayfirstundertheseat,tryingtoholdhimselftightlytogether,then,whenthatfailed,hemadestartledfrenziedleapsontolapstheleadhadbeenremovedforthetime,finallyhecoweredupintothecornerbehindUncleSamuel,whoseemedtounderstandhiscaseandsympathisedwithit。

  Wheneverthetrainstoppedwhich,beingaGlebeshiretrain,itdidcontinually,herecoveredatoncehissavoir-faire,assertedhisdignity,gazedthroughthewindowsatthefieldsandcowsasthoughheownedthemall,andbarkedwiththefriendlygreetingofcomradetocomradewheneverhesawanotherdog。

  ThenextthingthatoccupiedJeremy’sattentionwaslunch。Manypeopledespisesandwichesandmilkoutofbeer-bottlesandbananasandseed-cake。Jeremy,ofcourse,didnot。Helovedanythingeatenoutofpaper,fromtheice-creamsoldbytheBarneymaninPolchesterSquareonlyoncedidhesecuresomedowntothefrillsthatthereareroundthetailofanyself-respectingham。ButthepaperonthisjourneytoRafield!Therewasnothingintheworldtotouchit。Inthefirstplaceyouspreadnewspaperonyourknees,thentherewaspaperunderthesandwicheschicken,andmorepaperunderthesandwichesbeef,andstillmoreunderthesandwichesegg;therewaspaperroundtheseed-cake,and,mostwonderfulofall,paperroundthejam-puffs。Jam-puffswithstrawberryjameatenintheodourofginger-beerandeggshells!Isitpossibleforlifeatitsverybesttoholdmore?Hekepthisjam-puffsolongashecould,untilatlastMr。Colesaid:“Now,myboy!Finishitup——

  finishitup。Paperoutofthewindow-allneatandtidy;that’sright!“speakinginthatvoicewhichJeremyhated,becauseitwasused,soespecially,whencod-liveroilhadtobetaken。Heswallowedhispuffinagulp,andthengazedoutofthewindowlamentingitsdisappearance。

  “Didyoulikeit?“whisperedMaryhoarsely。

  “You’vegotsomejamonthesideofyournose,“saidJeremy。

  Hewassittingnexttohisfather,whohadthecornerseat,andhenowdevotedallhisenergiestopreventhimselffromfallingasleepagainsthisfather’sleg。Buttheginger-beer,theglazedandshiningfieldsbeyondthewindow,thelittleblobsofsunlightthatdanceduponthefloorofthecarriage,thescentsoffoodandflowers,andthehotbreeze,thehumofthetrain,andthedancingofthetelegraphwires——allthesethingswereagainsthim。Hisheadbegantonodandthentojumpbackwithasuddenterriblespringasthoughanevildemonpulleditwitharopefrombehind,thecarriageswelledlikeaballoon,thendwindledintoathin,straightline。

  Thestrangestthingshappenedtohisfriendsandrelations。Hismother,whowasreadingTheChurchFamilyNewspaper,developedtwofacesandanoselikeapost,andUncleSamuel,whohad,inharshreality,twochins,seemedtobeallfoldsandcreaseslikeaballoonwhenitisshiveringdownintocollapse。Jeremyfoughtwiththesefantasies;thelinesonthenewspaperdoubledandredoubled,vanishedandsprangtolifeagain。Hesaid:“Iwillnot,“and,instantly,hisheadonthesoftpartofhisfather’sthigh,wasasleep。

  III

  Inhisdreamshewasridingonacloudallpinkandgold,andbehindcamearowofshining,whitecloudsfluffylikebalesofwoolwrappedroundlightedlanterns。Hiscloudroseandfell,roseandfell,andavoicesaidinhisear:“Alliswell!Alliswell!Youcangoonlikethisforever。Therewillbejam-puffssoon,andice-

  cream,andfish-cakes,andyoucangotoChinathiswaywheneveryoulike。“

  Andhesaid:“Can’tItakeHamletwithme?“

  Andthevoiceanswered:“Hamletiswithyoualready,“andthere,behold,wasHamletsittingonthepinkcloudwithastiffgoldcollarroundhisneck,wagginghistail。AndthenthevoiceshoutedsoloudlythatJeremyjumpedoffthepinkcloudinhisastonishment:

  “Liskane!Liskane!Liskane!“andJeremyjumpedandfellandfell——

  rightintohisfather’slap,withsomeonecryinginhisear:“Wakeup,Jeremy!We’rethere!We’rethere!“

  Hisfirstthoughtwasforhisgreenbox,whichwas,hefound,safelyandsecurelyinhishand。ThenforHamlet,whowas,hesawwithhorror,alreadyupontheplatform,theleadtrailingbehindhimlikeaneglectedconscience,hisburningeyespiercinghishairinsearchofanotherdog,whomhesmeltbutcouldnotsee。

  Jeremy,rushingoutofthetrain,seizedthelead,scoldedhisrecoveredproperty,whoworeanexpressionofinjuredandabandonedinnocence,andlookedabouthim。Yes,thiswasLiskane——wonderful,marvellous,magicalLiskane!TotheboredandcynicaladultLiskanemayeasilyappeartobeoneoftheugliest,mostdesertedstationsinthewholeofEurope,havingnothingoneithersideofitsavebarrengreyfieldsthatnevergrowgrassbutonlystonesandbottles,withitssingledecoration——aheavyironbridgethatcrossestherailsandleadsuptothehigherroadandthetownofLiskane。Uglyenough,buttoJeremy,onthissummerafternoon,thegatetoasureandcertainParadise。

  Althoughhisfamilywerefussingaroundhim,Barbaracrying,Mr。

  Colesaying:“Four,Five,Six……Butwhere’stheblackbox?Yourblackbox,Amy……Six,Seven……ButthereshouldbeEight……

  Seven……“andMrs。Colesaying:“Andthere’smybrownbag。Thelittleonewiththeblackhandle,“andHelensaying。“OO,wasitadidums,thenNandy-Pandy,Nandy-Pandy……“andMissJones:“Now,Mary!Now,Jeremy!Now,Helen!“;althoughthiswasgoingonjustasitalwayshadgoneon,hiseyesweresearchingforthewagonette。

  Ah,thereitwas!Hecouldjustseethetopofitbeyondtheironbridge,andJim,themanfromtheFarm,wouldbecomingdowntohelpwiththeboxes;yes,therehewascrossingthebridgenow,withhisredfaceandbroadshoulders,andthecaponthesideofhishead,justashealwaysworeit。Jeremyrecognisedhimwithastrange,littlechokingsensation。Itwas“cominghome“tohim,allthiswas-

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