bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第98节
按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
for me。 Make haste！ Go along！” cries Judy； with a stamp upon the
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 406…
Bleak House 406
ground。 “You girls are more trouble than you’re worth； by half。”
On this severe matron； as she returns to her task of scraping the
butter and cutting the bread； falls the shadow of her brother；
looking in at the window。 For whom； knife and loaf in hand； she
opens the street door。
“Ay； ay； Bart！” says Grandfather Smallweed。 “Here you are；
hey？”
“Here I am；” says Bart。
“Been alone with your friend again； Bart？”
Small nods。
“Dining at his expense； Bart？”
Small nods again。
“That’s right。 Live at his expense as much as you can； and take
warning by his foolish example。 That’s the use of such a friend。
The only use you can put him to；” says the venerable sage。
His grandson； without receiving this good counsel as dutifully
as he might； honours it with all such acceptance as may lie in a
slight wink and a nod； and takes a chair at the tea…table。 The four
old faces then hover over teacups； like a company of ghastly
cherubim； Mrs Smallweed perpetually twitching her head and
chattering at the trivets； and Mr Smallweed requiring to be
repeatedly shaken up like a large black draught。
“Yes； yes；” says the good old gentleman； reverting to his lesson
of wisdom。 “That’s such advice as your father would have given
you； Bart。 You never saw your father。 More’s the pity。 He was my
true son。” Whether it is intended to be conveyed that he was
particularly pleasant to look at； on that account； does not appear。
“He was my true son；” repeats the old gentleman； folding his
bread and butter on his knee； “a good accountant； and died fifteen
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 407…
Bleak House 407
years ago。”
Mrs Smallweed； following her usual instinct； breaks out with
“Fifteen hundred pound。 Fifteen hundred pound in a black box；
fifteen hundred pound locked up； fifteen hundred pound put away
and hid！” Her worthy husband； setting aside his bread and butter；
immediately discharges the cushion at her； crushes her against the
side of her chair； and falls back in his own； overpowered。 His
appearance； after visiting Mrs Smallweed with one of these
admonitions； is particularly impressive and not wholly
prepossessing： firstly； because the exertion generally twists his
black skull cap over one eye and gives him an air of goblin
rakishness； secondly； because he mutters violent imprecations
against Mrs Smallweed； and thirdly； because the contrast between
those powerful expressions and his powerless figure is suggestive
of a baleful old malignant； who would be very wicked if he could。
All this； however； is so common in the Smallweed family circle；
that it produces no impression。 The old gentleman is merely
shaken； and has his internal feathers beaten up； the cushion is
restored to its usual place beside him； and the old lady； perhaps
with her cap adjusted； and perhaps not； is planted in her chair
again； ready to be bowled down like a ninepin。
Some time elapses； in the present instance； before the old
gentleman is sufficiently cool to resume his discourse； and even
then he mixes it up with several edifying expletives addressed to
the unconscious partner of his bosom； who holds communication
with nothing on earth but trivets。 As thus：—
“If your father； Bart； had lived longer； he might have been
worth a great deal of money—you brimstone chatterer！—but just
as he was beginning to build up the house that he had been
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 408…
Bleak House 408
making the foundations for； through many a year—you jade of a
magpie； jackdaw； and poll…parrot； what do you mean！—he took ill
and died of a low fever； always being a sparing and a spare man；
full of business care—I should like to throw a cat at you instead of
a cushion； and I will too if you make such a confounded fool of
yourself！—and your mother； who was a prudent woman as dry as a
chip； just dwindled away like touchwood after you and Judy were
born—You are an old pig。 You are a brimstone pig。 You’re a head
of swine！”
Judy； not interested in what she has often heard； begins to
collect in a basin various tributary streams of tea from the bottoms
of cups and saucers and from the bottom of the teapot； for the little
charwoman’s evening meal。 In like manner she gets together； in
the iron bread…basket； as many outside fragments and worn…down
heels of loaves as the rigid economy of the house has left in
existence。
“But your father and me were partners； Bart；” says the old
gentleman； “and when I am gone； you and Judy will have all there
is。 It’s rare for you both； that you went out early in life—Judy to
the flower business； and you to the law。 You won’t want to spend
it。 You’ll get your living without it； and put more to it。 When I am
gone； Judy will go back to the flower business； and you’ll stick to
the law。”
One might infer； from Judy’s appearance； that her business
rather lay with the thorns than the flowers； but； she has； in her
time； been apprenticed to the art and mystery of artificial flower…
making。 A close observer might perhaps detect both in her eye
and her brother’s； when their venerable grandsire anticipates his
being gone； some little impatience to know when he may be going；
Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics
… Page 409…
Bleak House 409
and some resentful opinion that it is time that he went。
“Now； if everybody has done；” says Judy； completing her
preparations； “I’ll have that girl in to her tea。 She would never
leave off； if she took it by herself in the kitchen。”
Charley is accordingly introduced； and； under a heavy fire of
eyes； sits down to her basin and a Druidical ruin of bread and
butter。 In the active superintendence of this young person； Judy
Smallweed appears to attain a perfectly geological age； and to date
from the remotest periods。 Her systematic manner of flying at her
and pouncing on her； with or without pretence； whether or no； is
wonderful； evincing an accomplishment in the art of girl…driving；
seldom reached by the oldest practitioners。
“Now； don’t stare about you all the afternoon；” cried Judy；
shaking her head and stamping her foot as she happens to catch
the glance which has been previously sounding the basin of tea；
“but take your victuals and get back to your work。”
“Yes； miss；” says Charley。
“Don’t say yes；” returns Miss Smallweed； “for I know what you
girls are。 Do it without saying it； and then I may begin to believe
you。”
Charley swallows a great gulp of tea in token of submission； and
so disperses the Druidical ruins that Miss Smallweed charges her
not to gormandise； which； “in you girls；” she observes； is
disgusting。 Charley might find some more difficulty in meeting her
views on the general subject of girls； but for a knock at the door。
“See who it is； and don’t chew when you open it！” cries Judy。
The object of her attentions withdrawing for the purpose； Miss
Smallweed takes that opportunity of jumbling the remainder of
the bread and butter together； and launching two or three dirty
Charles Dickens
