第18章 CHAPTER IV.(4)
- A First Family of Tasajara
- Bret Harte
- 1000字
- 2016-03-02 16:38:09
It here occurred to John Milton's youthful but not illogical mind that this was not argument,and he turned disappointedly away.As his father was to accompany the strangers a short distance,he,John Milton,was to-day left in charge of the store.That duty,however,did not involve any pecuniary transactions--the taking of money or making of change but a simple record on a slate behind the counter of articles selected by those customers whose urgent needs could not wait Mr.Harkutt's return.Perhaps on account of this degrading limitation,perhaps for other reasons,the boy did not fancy the task imposed upon him.The presence of the idle loungers who usually occupied the armchairs near the stove,and occasionally the counter,dissipated any romance with which he might have invested his charge;he wearied of the monotony of their dull gossip,but mostly he loathed the attitude of hypercritical counsel and instruction which they saw fit to assume towards him at such moments."Instead o'lazin'thar behind the counter when your father ain't here to see ye,John,"remarked Billings from the depths of his armchair a few moments after Harkutt had ridden away,"ye orter be bustlin'round,dustin'the shelves.Ye'll never come to anythin'when you're a man ef you go on like that.Ye never heard o'Harry Clay--that was called 'the Mill-boy of the Slashes'--sittin'down doin'nothin'when he was a boy.""I never heard of him loafin'round in a grocery store when he was growned up either,"responded John Milton,darkly.
"P'r'aps you reckon he got to be a great man by standin'up sassin'his father's customers,"said Peters,angrily."I kin tell ye,young man,if you was my boy"--"If I was YOUR boy,I'd be playin'hookey instead of goin'to school,jest as your boy is doin'now,"interrupted John Milton,with a literal recollection of his quarrel and pursuit of the youth in question that morning.
An undignified silence on the part of the adults followed,the usual sequel to those passages;Sidon generally declining to expose itself to the youthful Harkutt's terrible accuracy of statement.
The men resumed their previous lazy gossip about Elijah Curtis's disappearance,with occasional mysterious allusions in a lower tone,which the boy instinctively knew referred to his father,but which either from indolence or caution,the two great conservators of Sidon,were never formulated distinctly enough for his relentless interference.The morning sunshine was slowly thickening again in an indolent mist that seemed to rise from the saturated plain.A stray lounger shuffled over from the blacksmith's shop to the store to take the place of another idler who had joined an equally lethargic circle around the slumbering forge.A dull intermittent sound of hammering came occasionally from the wheelwright's shed--at sufficiently protracted intervals to indicate the enfeebled progress of Sidon's vehicular repair.Ayellow dog left his patch of sunlight on the opposite side of the way and walked deliberately over to what appeared to be more luxurious quarters on the veranda;was manifestly disappointed but not equal to the exertion of returning,and sank down with blinking eyes and a regretful sigh without going further.A procession of six ducks got well into a line for a laborious "march past"the store,but fell out at the first mud puddle and gave it up.Ahighly nervous but respectable hen,who had ventured upon the veranda evidently against her better instincts,walked painfully on tiptoe to the door,apparently was met by language which no mother of a family could listen to,and retired in strong hysterics.Alittle later the sun became again obscured,the wind arose,rain fell,and the opportunity for going indoors and doing nothing was once more availed of by all Sidon.
It was afternoon when Mr.Harkutt returned.He did not go into the store,but entered the dwelling from the little picket-gate and steep path.There he called a family council in the sitting-room as being the most reserved and secure.Mrs.Harkutt,sympathizing and cheerfully ready for any affliction,still holding a dust-cloth in her hand,took her seat by the window,with Phemie breathless and sparkling at one side of her,while Clementina,all faultless profile and repose,sat on the other.To Mrs.Harkutt's motherly concern at John Milton's absence,it was pointed out that he was wanted at the store,--was a mere boy anyhow,and could not be trusted.Mr.Harkutt,a little ruddier from weather,excitement,and the unusual fortification of a glass of liquor,a little more rugged in the lines of his face,and with an odd ring of defiant self-assertion in his voice,stood before them in the centre of the room.
He wanted them to listen to him carefully,to remember what he said,for it was important;it might be a matter of "lawing"hereafter,--and he couldn't be always repeating it to them,--he would have enough to do.There was a heap of it that,as women-folks,they couldn't understand,and weren't expected to.But he'd got it all clear now,and what he was saying was gospel.He'd always known to himself that the only good that could ever come to Sidon would come by railroad.When those fools talked wagon road he had said nothing,but he had his own ideas;he had worked for that idea without saying anything to anybody;that idea was to get possession of all the land along the embarcadero,which nobody cared for,and 'Lige Curtis was ready to sell for a song.Well,now,considering what had happened,he didn't mind telling them that he had been gradually getting possession of it,little by little,paying 'Lige Curtis in advances and installments,until it was his own!They had heard what those surveyors said;how that it was the only fit terminus for the railroad.Well,that land,and that water-front,and the terminus were HIS!And all from his own foresight and prudence.