one basket(一个篮子)-第5节
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the West Side。 In those days it took her almost two hours each way。
She said the kind of costume she required should have been corrugated
steel。 But all three knew what was being worn； and they wore itor
fairly faithful copies of it。 Eva； the housekeeping sister； had a needle
knack。 She could skim the State Street windows and come away with a
mental photograph of every separate tuck； hem； yoke； and ribbon。 Heads
of departments showed her the things they kept in drawers； and she went
home and reproduced them with the aid of a seamstress by the day。 Stell；
the youngest； was the beauty。 They called her Babe。
Twenty…three years ago one's sisters did not strain at the household
leash； nor crave a career。 Carrie taught school； and hated it。 Eva kept
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house expertly and complainingly。 Babe's profession was being the
family beauty； and it took all her spare time。 Eva always let her sleep
until ten。
This was Jo's household； and he was the nominal head of it。 But it
was an empty title。 The three women dominated his life。 They weren't
con… sciously selfish。 If you had called them cruel they would have put
you down as mad。 When you are the lone brother of three sisters； it
means that you must constantly be calling for； escorting； or dropping one
of them somewhere。 Most men of Jo's age were standing before their
mirror of a Saturday night； whistling blithely and abstractedly while they
discarded a blue polka…dot for a maroon tie； whipped off the maroon for a
shot…silk and at the last moment decided against the shot…silk in favor of a
plain black…and…white because she had once said she preferred quiet ties。
Jo； when he should have been preening his feathers for conquest； was
saying：
〃Well； my God； I AM hurrying！ Give a man time； can't you？ I just
got home。 You girls been laying around the house all day。 No wonder
you're ready。〃
He took a certain pride in seeing his sisters well dressed； at a time
when he should have been reveling in fancy waistcoats and brilliant…hued
socks； according to the style of that day and the inalienable right of any
unwed male under thirty； in any day。 On those rare occasions when his
business necessitated an out…of…town trip； he would spend half a day
floundering about the shops selecting handkerchiefs； or stockings； or
feathers； or gloves for the girls。 They always turned out to be the wrong
kind； judging by their reception。
From Carrie； 〃What in the world do I want of long white gloves！〃
〃I thought you didn't have any；〃 Jo would say。
〃I haven't。 I never wear evening clothes。〃
Jo would pass a futile hand over the top of his head； as was his way
when disturbed。 〃I just thought you'd like them。 I thought every girl
liked long white gloves。 Just；〃 feebly； 〃just toto have。〃
〃Oh； for pity's sake！〃
And from Eva or Babe； 〃I've GOT silk stockings； Jo。〃 Or； 〃You
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brought me handkerchiefs the last time。〃
There was something selfish in his giving； as there always is in any
gift freely and joyfully made。 They never suspected the exquisite
pleasure it gave him to select these things； these fine； soft； silken things。
There were many things about this slow…going； amiable brother of theirs
that they never suspected。 If you had told them he was a dreamer of
dreams； for example； they would have been amused。 Sometimes； dead…
tired by nine o'clock after a hard day downtown； he would doze over the
evening paper。 At intervals he would wake； red…eyed； to a snatch of
conversation such as； 〃Yes； but if you get a blue you can wear it anywhere。
It's dressy； and at the same time it's quiet； too。〃 Eva； the expert； wrestling
with Carrie over the problem of the new spring dress。 They never
guessed that the com… monplace man in the frayed old smoking jacket had
banished them all from the room long ago； had banished himself； for that
matter。 In his place was a tall； debonair； and rather dangerously
handsome man to whom six o'clock spelled evening clothes。 The kind of
man who can lean up against a mantel； or propose a toast； or give an order
to a manservant； or whisper a gallant speech in a lady's ear with equal ease。
The shabby old house on Calumet Avenue was transformed into a
brocaded and chandeliered rendezvous for the brilliance of the city。
Beauty was here； and wit。 But none so beautiful and witty as She。 Mrs。
erJo Hertz。 There was wine； of course； but no vulgar display。 There
was music； the soft sheen of satin； laughter。 And he； the gracious； tactful
host； king of his own domain
〃Jo； for heaven's sake； if you're going to snore； go to bed！〃
〃Whydid I fall asleep？〃
〃You haven't been doing anything else all evening。 A person would
think you were fifty instead of thirty。〃
And Jo Hertz was again just the dull； gray； commonplace brother of
three well…meaning sisters。
Babe used to say petulantly； 〃Jo； why don't you ever bring home any
of your men friends？ A girl might as well not have any brother； all the
good you do。〃
Jo； conscience…stricken； did his best to make amends。 But a man who
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has been petticoat…ridden for years loses the knack； somehow； of
comradeship with men。
One Sunday in May Jo came home from a late…Sunday…afternoon walk
to find company for supper。 Carrie often had in one of her schoolteacher
friends； or Babe one of her frivolous intimates； or even Eva a staid guest
of the old…girl type。 There was always a Sunday…night supper of potato
salad； and cold meat； and coffee； and perhaps a fresh cake。 Jo rather
enjoyed it； being a hospitable soul。 But he regarded the guests with the
undazzled eyes of a man to whom they were just so many petticoats； timid
of the night streets and requiring escort home。 If you had suggested to
him that some of his sisters' popularity was due to his own presence； or if
you had hinted that the more kittenish of these visitors were probably
making eyes at him； he would have stared in amazement and unbelief。
This Sunday night it turned out to be one of Carrie's friends。
〃Emily；〃 said Carrie； 〃this is my brother； Jo。〃
Jo had learned what to expect in Carrie's friends。 Drab…looking
women in the late thirties； whose facial lines all slanted downward。
〃Happy to meet you；〃 said Jo； and looked down at a different sort
altogether。 A most surprisingly different sort； for one of Carrie's friends。
This Emily person was very small； and fluffy； and blue…eyed； and crinkly
looking。 The corners of her mouth when she smiled； and her eyes when
she looked up at you； and her hair； which was brown； but had the
miraculous effect； somehow； of looking golden。
Jo shook hands with her。 Her hand was incredibly small； and soft； so
that you were afraid of crushing it； until you discovered she had a firm
little grip all her own。 It surprised and amused you； that grip； as does a
baby's unexpected clutch on your patronizing forefinger。 As Jo felt it in
his own big clasp； the strangest thing happened to him。 Something inside
Jo Hertz stopped working for a moment； then lurched sickeningly； then
thumped like mad。 It was his heart。 He stood staring down at her； and
she up at him； until the others laughed。 Then their hands fell apart；
lingeringly。
〃Are you a schoolteacher； Emily？〃 he said。
〃Kindergarten。 It's
