章节正文
which Waldo imposed on himself, and there were
innumerable small observances which he exacted from those
who were in any way obliged to minister to his
requirements; a special teapot for the decoction of his
early tea was always solemnly handed over to the bedroom
staff of any house in which he happened to be staying.
No one had ever quite mastered the mechanism of this
precious vessel, but Bertie van Tahn was responsible for
the legend that its spout had to be kept facing north
during the process of infusion.
On this particular night the irreducible nine hours
were severely mutilated by the sudden and by no means
noiseless incursion of a pyjama-clad figure into Waldo's
room at an hour midway between midnight and dawn.
"What is the matter? What are you looking for?"
asked the awakened and astonished Waldo, slowly
recognising Van Tahn, who appeared to be searching
hastily for something he had lost.
"Looking for sheep," was the reply.
"Sheep?" exclaimed Waldo.
"Yes, sheep. You don't suppose I'm looking for
giraffes, do you?"
"I don't see why you should expect to find either in
my room," retorted Waldo furiously.
"I can't argue the matter at this hour of the
night," said Bertie, and began hastily rummaging in the
chest of drawers. Shirts and underwear went flying on to
the floor.
"There are no sheep here, I tell you," screamed
Waldo.
"I've only got your word for it," said Bertie,
whisking most of the bedclothes on to the floor; "if you
weren't concealing something you wouldn't be so
agitated."
Waldo was by this time convinced that Van Tahn was
raving mad, and made an anxious, effort to humour him.
"Go back to bed like a dear fellow," he pleaded,
"and your sheep will turn up all right in the morning."
"I daresay," said Bertie gloomily, "without their
tails. Nice fool I shall look with a lot of Manx sheep."
And by way of emphasising his annoyance at the
prospect he sent Waldo's pillows flying to the top of the
wardrobe.
"But WHY no tails?" asked Waldo, whose teeth were
chattering with fear and rage and lowered temperature.
"My dear boy, have you never heard the ballad of
Little Bo-Peep?" said Bertie with a chuckle. "It's my
character in the Game, you know. If I didn't go hunting
about for my lost sheep no one would be able to guess who
I was; and now go to sleepy weeps like a good child or I
shall be cross with you."
"I leave you to imagine," wrote Waldo in the course
of a long letter to his mother, "how much sleep I was
able to recover that night, and you know how essential
nine uninterrupted hours of slumber are to my health."
On the other hand he was able to devote some wakeful
hours to exercises in breathing wrath and fury against
Bertie van Tahn.
Breakfast at Blonzecourt was a scattered meal, on
the "come when you please" principle, but the house-party
was supposed to gather in full strength at lunch. On the
day after the "Game" had been started there were,
however, some notable absentees. Waldo Plubley, for
instance, was reported to be nursing a headache. A large
breakfast and an "A.B.C." had been taken up to his room,
but he had made no appearance in the flesh.
"I expect he's playing up to some character," said
Vera Durmot; "isn't there a thing of Moliere's, 'LE
MALADE IMAGINAIRE'? I expect he's that."
Eight or nine lists came out, and were duly
pencilled with the suggestion.
"And where are the Klammersteins?" asked Lady
Blonze; "they're usually so punctual."
"Another character pose, perhaps," said Bertie van
Tahn; " 'the Lost Ten Tribes.' "
"But there are only three of them. Besides, they'll
want their lunch. Hasn't anyone seen anything of them?"
"Didn't you take them out in your car?" asked
Blanche Boveal, addressing herself to Cyril Skatterly.
"Yes, took them out to Slogberry Moor immediately
after breakfast. Miss Durmot came too."
"I saw you and Vera come back," said Lady Blonze,
"but I didn't see the Klammersteins. Did you put them
down in the village?"
"No," said Skatterly shortly.
"But where are they? Where did you leave them?"
"We left them on Slogberry Moor," said Vera calmly.
"On Slogberry Moor? Why, it's more than thirty
miles away! How are they going to get back?"
"We didn't stop to consider that," said Skatterly;
"we asked them to get out for a moment, on the pretence
that the car had stuck, and then we dashed off full speed
and left them there."
"But how dare you do such a thing? It's most
inhuman! Why, it's been snowing for the last hour."
"I expect there'll be a cottage or farmhouse
somewhere if they walk a mile or two."
"But why on earth have you done it?"
The question came in a chorus of indignant
bewilderment.
"THAT would be telling what our characters are meant
to be," said Vera.
"Didn't I warn you?" said Sir Nicholas tragically to
his wife.
"It's something to do with Spanish history; we don't
mind giving you that clue," said Skatterly, helping
himself cheerfully to salad, and then Bertie van Tahn
broke forth into peals of joyous laughter.
"I've got it! Ferdinand and Isabella deporting the
Jews! Oh, lovely! Those two have certainly won the
prize; we shan't get anything to beat that for
thoroughness."
Lady Blonze's Christmas party was talked about and
written about to an extent that she had not anticipated
in her most ambitious moments. The letters from Waldo's
mother would alone have made it memorable.
COUSIN TERESA
BASSET HARROWCLUFF returned to the home of his
fathers, after an absence of four years, distinctly well
pleased with himself. He was only thirty-one, but he had
put in some useful service in an out-of-the-way, though
not unimportant, corner of the world. He had quieted a
province, kept open a trade route, enforced the tradition
of respect which is worth the ransom of many kings in
out-of-the-way regions, and done the whole business on
rather less expenditure than would be requisite for
organising a charity in the home country. In Whitehall
and places where they think, they doubtless thought well
of him. It was not inconceivable, his father allowed
himself to imagine, that Basset's name might figure in
the next list of Honours.
Basset was inclined to be rather contemptuous" target="_blank" title="a.蔑视的；傲慢的">contemptuous of his
half-brother, Lucas, whom he found feverishly engrossed
in the same medley of elaborate futilities that had
claimed his whole time and energies, such as they were,
four years ago, and almost as far back before that as he
could remember. It was the contempt of the man of action
for the man of activities, and it was probably
reciprocated. Lucas was an over-well nourished
individual, some nine years Basset's senior, with a
colouring that would have been accepted as a sign of
intensive culture in an asparagus, but probably meant in
this case mere abstention from exercise. His hair and
forehead furnished a recessional note in a personality
that was in all other respects obtrusive and assertive.
There was certainly no Semitic blood in Lucas's
parentage, but his appearance contrived to convey at
least a suggestion of Jewish extraction. Clovis
Sangrail, who knew most of his associates by sight, said
it was undoubtedly a case of protective mimicry.
Two days after Basset's return, Lucas frisked in to
lunch in a state of twittering excitement that could not
be restrained even for the immediate consideration of
soup, but had to be verbally discharged in spluttering
competition with mouthfuls of vermicelli.
"I've got hold of an idea for something immense," he
babbled, "something that is simply It."
Basset gave a short laugh that would have done
equally well as a snort, if one had wanted to make the
exchange. His half-brother was in the habit of
discovering futilities that were "simply It" at
frequently recurring intervals. The discovery generally
meant that he flew up to town, preceded by glowingly-
worded telegrams, to see some one connected with the
stage or the publishing world, got together one or two
momentous luncheon parties, flitted in and out of
"Gambrinus" for one or two evenings, and returned home
with an air of subdued importance and the asparagus tint
slightly intensified. The great idea was generally
forgotten a few weeks later in the excitement of some new
discovery.
"The inspiration came to me whilst I was dressing,"
announced Lucas; "it will be THE thing in the next music-
hall REVUE. All London will go mad over it. It's just a
couplet; of course there will be other words, but they
won't matter. Listen:
Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar,
Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi.
A lifting, catchy sort of refrain, you see, and big-
drum business on the two syllables of bor-zoi. It's
immense. And I've thought out all the business of it;
the singer will sing the first verse alone, then during
the second verse Cousin Teresa will walk through,
followed by four wooden dogs on wheels; Caesar will be an
Irish terrier, Fido a black poodle, Jock a fox-terrier,
and the borzoi, of course, will be a borzoi. During the
third verse Cousin Teresa will come on alone, and the
dogs will be drawn across by themselves from the opposite
wing; then Cousin Teresa will catch on to the singer and
go off-stage in one direction, while the dogs' procession
goes off in the other, crossing en route, which is always
very effective. There'll be a lot of applause there, and
for the fourth verse Cousin Teresa will come on in sables
and the dogs will all have coats on. Then I've got a
great idea for the fifth verse; each of the dogs will be
led on by a Nut, and Cousin Teresa will come on from the
opposite side, crossing en route, always effective, and
then she turns round and leads the whole lot of them off
on a string, and all the time every one singing like mad:
Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar
Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi.
innumerable small observances which he exacted from those
who were in any way obliged to minister to his
requirements; a special teapot for the decoction of his
early tea was always solemnly handed over to the bedroom
staff of any house in which he happened to be staying.
No one had ever quite mastered the mechanism of this
precious vessel, but Bertie van Tahn was responsible for
the legend that its spout had to be kept facing north
during the process of infusion.
On this particular night the irreducible nine hours
were severely mutilated by the sudden and by no means
noiseless incursion of a pyjama-clad figure into Waldo's
room at an hour midway between midnight and dawn.
"What is the matter? What are you looking for?"
asked the awakened and astonished Waldo, slowly
recognising Van Tahn, who appeared to be searching
hastily for something he had lost.
"Looking for sheep," was the reply.
"Sheep?" exclaimed Waldo.
"Yes, sheep. You don't suppose I'm looking for
giraffes, do you?"
"I don't see why you should expect to find either in
my room," retorted Waldo furiously.
"I can't argue the matter at this hour of the
night," said Bertie, and began hastily rummaging in the
chest of drawers. Shirts and underwear went flying on to
the floor.
"There are no sheep here, I tell you," screamed
Waldo.
"I've only got your word for it," said Bertie,
whisking most of the bedclothes on to the floor; "if you
weren't concealing something you wouldn't be so
agitated."
Waldo was by this time convinced that Van Tahn was
raving mad, and made an anxious, effort to humour him.
"Go back to bed like a dear fellow," he pleaded,
"and your sheep will turn up all right in the morning."
"I daresay," said Bertie gloomily, "without their
tails. Nice fool I shall look with a lot of Manx sheep."
And by way of emphasising his annoyance at the
prospect he sent Waldo's pillows flying to the top of the
wardrobe.
"But WHY no tails?" asked Waldo, whose teeth were
chattering with fear and rage and lowered temperature.
"My dear boy, have you never heard the ballad of
Little Bo-Peep?" said Bertie with a chuckle. "It's my
character in the Game, you know. If I didn't go hunting
about for my lost sheep no one would be able to guess who
I was; and now go to sleepy weeps like a good child or I
shall be cross with you."
"I leave you to imagine," wrote Waldo in the course
of a long letter to his mother, "how much sleep I was
able to recover that night, and you know how essential
nine uninterrupted hours of slumber are to my health."
On the other hand he was able to devote some wakeful
hours to exercises in breathing wrath and fury against
Bertie van Tahn.
Breakfast at Blonzecourt was a scattered meal, on
the "come when you please" principle, but the house-party
was supposed to gather in full strength at lunch. On the
day after the "Game" had been started there were,
however, some notable absentees. Waldo Plubley, for
instance, was reported to be nursing a headache. A large
breakfast and an "A.B.C." had been taken up to his room,
but he had made no appearance in the flesh.
"I expect he's playing up to some character," said
Vera Durmot; "isn't there a thing of Moliere's, 'LE
MALADE IMAGINAIRE'? I expect he's that."
Eight or nine lists came out, and were duly
pencilled with the suggestion.
"And where are the Klammersteins?" asked Lady
Blonze; "they're usually so punctual."
"Another character pose, perhaps," said Bertie van
Tahn; " 'the Lost Ten Tribes.' "
"But there are only three of them. Besides, they'll
want their lunch. Hasn't anyone seen anything of them?"
"Didn't you take them out in your car?" asked
Blanche Boveal, addressing herself to Cyril Skatterly.
"Yes, took them out to Slogberry Moor immediately
after breakfast. Miss Durmot came too."
"I saw you and Vera come back," said Lady Blonze,
"but I didn't see the Klammersteins. Did you put them
down in the village?"
"No," said Skatterly shortly.
"But where are they? Where did you leave them?"
"We left them on Slogberry Moor," said Vera calmly.
"On Slogberry Moor? Why, it's more than thirty
miles away! How are they going to get back?"
"We didn't stop to consider that," said Skatterly;
"we asked them to get out for a moment, on the pretence
that the car had stuck, and then we dashed off full speed
and left them there."
"But how dare you do such a thing? It's most
inhuman! Why, it's been snowing for the last hour."
"I expect there'll be a cottage or farmhouse
somewhere if they walk a mile or two."
"But why on earth have you done it?"
The question came in a chorus of indignant
bewilderment.
"THAT would be telling what our characters are meant
to be," said Vera.
"Didn't I warn you?" said Sir Nicholas tragically to
his wife.
"It's something to do with Spanish history; we don't
mind giving you that clue," said Skatterly, helping
himself cheerfully to salad, and then Bertie van Tahn
broke forth into peals of joyous laughter.
"I've got it! Ferdinand and Isabella deporting the
Jews! Oh, lovely! Those two have certainly won the
prize; we shan't get anything to beat that for
thoroughness."
Lady Blonze's Christmas party was talked about and
written about to an extent that she had not anticipated
in her most ambitious moments. The letters from Waldo's
mother would alone have made it memorable.
COUSIN TERESA
BASSET HARROWCLUFF returned to the home of his
fathers, after an absence of four years, distinctly well
pleased with himself. He was only thirty-one, but he had
put in some useful service in an out-of-the-way, though
not unimportant, corner of the world. He had quieted a
province, kept open a trade route, enforced the tradition
of respect which is worth the ransom of many kings in
out-of-the-way regions, and done the whole business on
rather less expenditure than would be requisite for
organising a charity in the home country. In Whitehall
and places where they think, they doubtless thought well
of him. It was not inconceivable, his father allowed
himself to imagine, that Basset's name might figure in
the next list of Honours.
Basset was inclined to be rather contemptuous" target="_blank" title="a.蔑视的；傲慢的">contemptuous of his
half-brother, Lucas, whom he found feverishly engrossed
in the same medley of elaborate futilities that had
claimed his whole time and energies, such as they were,
four years ago, and almost as far back before that as he
could remember. It was the contempt of the man of action
for the man of activities, and it was probably
reciprocated. Lucas was an over-well nourished
individual, some nine years Basset's senior, with a
colouring that would have been accepted as a sign of
intensive culture in an asparagus, but probably meant in
this case mere abstention from exercise. His hair and
forehead furnished a recessional note in a personality
that was in all other respects obtrusive and assertive.
There was certainly no Semitic blood in Lucas's
parentage, but his appearance contrived to convey at
least a suggestion of Jewish extraction. Clovis
Sangrail, who knew most of his associates by sight, said
it was undoubtedly a case of protective mimicry.
Two days after Basset's return, Lucas frisked in to
lunch in a state of twittering excitement that could not
be restrained even for the immediate consideration of
soup, but had to be verbally discharged in spluttering
competition with mouthfuls of vermicelli.
"I've got hold of an idea for something immense," he
babbled, "something that is simply It."
Basset gave a short laugh that would have done
equally well as a snort, if one had wanted to make the
exchange. His half-brother was in the habit of
discovering futilities that were "simply It" at
frequently recurring intervals. The discovery generally
meant that he flew up to town, preceded by glowingly-
worded telegrams, to see some one connected with the
stage or the publishing world, got together one or two
momentous luncheon parties, flitted in and out of
"Gambrinus" for one or two evenings, and returned home
with an air of subdued importance and the asparagus tint
slightly intensified. The great idea was generally
forgotten a few weeks later in the excitement of some new
discovery.
"The inspiration came to me whilst I was dressing,"
announced Lucas; "it will be THE thing in the next music-
hall REVUE. All London will go mad over it. It's just a
couplet; of course there will be other words, but they
won't matter. Listen:
Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar,
Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi.
A lifting, catchy sort of refrain, you see, and big-
drum business on the two syllables of bor-zoi. It's
immense. And I've thought out all the business of it;
the singer will sing the first verse alone, then during
the second verse Cousin Teresa will walk through,
followed by four wooden dogs on wheels; Caesar will be an
Irish terrier, Fido a black poodle, Jock a fox-terrier,
and the borzoi, of course, will be a borzoi. During the
third verse Cousin Teresa will come on alone, and the
dogs will be drawn across by themselves from the opposite
wing; then Cousin Teresa will catch on to the singer and
go off-stage in one direction, while the dogs' procession
goes off in the other, crossing en route, which is always
very effective. There'll be a lot of applause there, and
for the fourth verse Cousin Teresa will come on in sables
and the dogs will all have coats on. Then I've got a
great idea for the fifth verse; each of the dogs will be
led on by a Nut, and Cousin Teresa will come on from the
opposite side, crossing en route, always effective, and
then she turns round and leads the whole lot of them off
on a string, and all the time every one singing like mad:
Cousin Teresa takes out Caesar
Fido, Jock, and the big borzoi.
- minister [´ministə]
n.部长；大臣 v.伺候 (初中英语单词) - vessel [´vesəl] n.容器；船；脉管 (初中英语单词)
- responsible [ri´spɔnsəbəl] a.尽责的；责任重大的 (初中英语单词)
- midnight [´midnait] n.午夜；漆黑 (初中英语单词)
- hastily [´heistili] ad.急速地；草率地 (初中英语单词)
- anxious [´æŋkʃəs] a.担忧的；渴望的 (初中英语单词)
- humour [´hju:mə] n.幽默，诙谐 (初中英语单词)
- slumber [´slʌmbə] v.&n.睡眠；沉睡状态 (初中英语单词)
- supposed [sə´pəuzd] a.想象的；假定的 (初中英语单词)
- character [´kæriktə] n.特性；性质；人物；字 (初中英语单词)
- cottage [´kɔtidʒ] n.村舍；小屋；小别墅 (初中英语单词)
- chorus [´kɔ:rəs] n.合唱；齐声 v.合唱 (初中英语单词)
- extent [ik´stent] n.长度；程度；范围 (初中英语单词)
- ambitious [æm´biʃəs] a.有雄心的；热望的 (初中英语单词)
- absence [´æbsəns] n.不在，缺席；缺乏 (初中英语单词)
- distinctly [di´stiŋktli] ad.清楚地，明晰地 (初中英语单词)
- doubtless [´dautlis] ad.无疑地；大概，多半 (初中英语单词)
- elaborate [i´læbərət, -reit] a.精心设计的 (初中英语单词)
- culture [´kʌltʃə] n.修养；文化；饲养 (初中英语单词)
- convey [kən´vei] vt.运送；传达；转让 (初中英语单词)
- suggestion [sə´dʒestʃən] n.建议，提议；暗示 (初中英语单词)
- undoubtedly [ʌn´dautidli] ad.无疑地，确实地 (初中英语单词)
- excitement [ik´saitmənt] n.兴奋；骚动；煽动 (初中英语单词)
- consideration [kən,sidə´reiʃən] n.考虑；原因；体谅 (初中英语单词)
- luncheon [´lʌntʃ(ə)n] n.午餐，午宴 (初中英语单词)
- singer [´siŋə] n.歌手，演唱者 (初中英语单词)
- wooden [´wudn] a.木制的；呆板的 (初中英语单词)
- effective [i´fektiv] a.有效的；有力的 (初中英语单词)
- solemnly [´sɔləmli] ad.严肃地，庄严地 (高中英语单词)
- severely [si´viəli] ad.剧烈地；严格地 (高中英语单词)
- ballad [´bæləd] n.民歌，民谣 (高中英语单词)
- chuckle [´tʃʌkl] vi.&n.轻声笑；暗自笑 (高中英语单词)
- sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
- notable [´nəutəbəl] a.显著的 n.名人 (高中英语单词)
- headache [´hedeik] n.头痛；使人头痛的事 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- joyous [´dʒɔiəs] a.充满快乐的 (高中英语单词)
- ransom [´rænsəm] n.赎金；勒索 vt.赎 (高中英语单词)
- expenditure [ik´spenditʃə] n.消费；经费；费用 (高中英语单词)
- charity [´tʃæriti] n.施舍；慈悲；博爱 (高中英语单词)
- contempt [kən´tempt] n.轻蔑；受辱；不顾 (高中英语单词)
- senior [´si:niə] a.年长的 n.前辈 (高中英语单词)
- jewish [´dʒu:iʃ] a.犹太人(似)的 (高中英语单词)
- inspiration [,inspi´reiʃən] n.鼓舞；灵感；启发 (高中英语单词)
- whilst [wailst] conj.当...时候；虽然 (高中英语单词)
- refrain [ri´frein] v.抑制；忍住 n.迭句 (高中英语单词)
- caesar [´si:zə] n.凯撒；暴君；独裁者 (高中英语单词)
- applause [ə´plɔ:z] n.鼓掌；欢呼；称赞 (高中英语单词)
- mechanism [´mekənizəm] n.机械装置；机制 (英语四级单词)
- midway [,mid´wei] n.中途 ad.&a.中途(的) (英语四级单词)
- annoyance [ə´nɔiəns] n.烦恼事(人) (英语四级单词)
- unimportant [ʌnim´pɔ:tənt] a.不重要的，平凡的 (英语四级单词)
- requisite [´rekwizit] a.需要的；必要的 n.必需品 (英语四级单词)
- asparagus [ə´spærəgəs] n.文竹；天门冬；龙须菜 (英语四级单词)
- protective [prə´tektiv] a.防护的；保护贸易的 (英语四级单词)
- underwear [´ʌndəweə] n.内衣；衬衣 (英语六级单词)
- gloomily [´glu:mili] adv.忧郁的 (英语六级单词)
- contemptuous [kən´temptjuəs] a.蔑视的；傲慢的 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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