one basket(一个篮子)-第26章
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she whimpered。 〃It's me！〃
He reached out and put a hand on her arm and drew her inside。
〃Angie！ Angie！ Here's a poor little kid〃
Tessie clutched frantically at the last crumbs of her pride。 She tried
to straighten； to smile with her old bravado。 What was that story she had
planned to tell？
〃Who is it； Dad？ Who？〃 Angie Hatton came into the hallway。
She stared at Tessie。 Then： 〃Why； my dear！〃 she said。 〃My dear！
Come in here。〃
Angie Hatton！ Tessie began to cry weakly； her face buried in Angie
Hatton's expensive shoulder。 Tessie remembered later that she had felt
no surprise at the act。
〃There； there！〃 Angie Hatton was saying。 〃Just poke up the fire； Dad。
And get something from the dining room。 Oh； I don't know。 To drink；
you know。 Something〃
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Then Old Man Hatton stood over her； holding a small glass to her lips。
Tessie drank it obediently； made a wry little face； coughed； wiped her eyes；
and sat up。 She looked from one to the other； like a trapped little animal。
She put a hand to her tousled head。
〃That's all right；〃 Angie Hatton assured her。 〃You can fix it after a
while。〃
There they were； the three of them： Old Man Hatton with his back to
the fire； looking benignly down upon her； Angie seated； with some
knitting in her hands； as if entertaining bedraggled； tear…stained young
ladies at dusk were an everyday occurrence； Tessie； twisting her
handkerchief in a torment of embarrassment。 But they asked no
questions； these two。 They evinced no curiosity about this disheveled
creature who had flung herself in upon their decent solitude。
Tessie stared at the fire。 She looked up at Old Man Hatton's face and
opened her lips。 She looked down and shut them again。 Then she
flashed a quick look at Angie； to see if she could detect there some
suspicion； some disdain。 None。 Angie Hatton lookedwell； Tessie put
it to herself； thus： 〃She looks like she'd cried till she couldn't cry no
moreonly inside。〃
And then； surprisingly； Tessie began to talk。 〃I wouldn't never have
gone with this fella； only Chuck； he was gone。 All the boys're gone。 It's
fierce。 You get scared； sitting home； waiting； and they're in France and
everywhere； learning French and everything； and meeting grand people
and having a fuss made over 'em。 So I got mad and said I didn't care； I
wasn't going to squat home all my life； waiting〃
Angie Hatton had stopped knitting now。 Old Man Hatton was
looking down at her very kindly。 And so Tessie went on。 The pent…up
emotions and thoughts of these past months were finding an outlet at last。
These things which she had never been able to discuss with her mother she
now was laying bare to Angie Hatton and Old Man Hatton！ They asked
no questions。 They seemed to understand。 Once Old Man Hatton
interrupted with： 〃So that's the kind of fellow they've got as escapement…
room foreman； eh？〃
Tessie； whose mind was working very clearly now； put out a quick
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hand。 〃Say； it wasn't his fault。 He's a bum； all right； but I knew it；
didn't I？ It was me。 I didn't care。 Seemed to me it didn't make no
difference who I went with； but it does。〃 She looked down at her hands
clasped so tightly in her lap。
〃Yes； it makes a whole lot of difference；〃 Angie agreed； and looked up
at her father。
At that Tessie blurted her last desperate problem： 〃He's learning all
kind of new things。 Me； I ain't learning anything。 When Chuck comes
home he'll just think I'm dumb； that's all。 He〃
〃What kind of thing would you like to learn； Tessie； so that when
Chuck comes home〃
Tessie looked up then； her wide mouth quivering with eagerness。 〃I'd
like to learn to swimand row a boatand play tennislike the rich girls
like the girls that's making such a fuss over the soldiers。〃
Angie Hatton was not laughing。 So； after a moment's hesitation；
Tessie brought out the worst of it。 〃And French。 I'd like to learn to talk
French。〃
Old Man Hatton had been surveying his shoes； his mouth grim。 He
looked at Angie now and smiled a little。 〃Well； Angie； it looks as if you'd
found your job right here at home； doesn't it？ This young lady's just one
of hundreds； I suppose。 Thousands。 You can have the whole house for
them； if you want it； Angie； and the grounds； and all the money you need。
I guess we've kind of overlooked the girls。 Hm； Angie？ What d'you
say？〃
But Tessie was not listening。 She had scarcely heard。 Her face was
white with earnestness。
〃Can you speak French？〃
〃Yes；〃 Angie answered。
〃Well；〃 said Tessie； and gulped once； 〃well； how do you say in French：
‘Give me a piece of bread'？ That's what I want to learn first。〃
Angie Hatton said it correctly。
〃That's it！ Wait a minute！ Say it again； will you？〃
Angie said it again； Tessie wet her lips。 Her cheeks were smeared
with tears and dirt。 Her hair was wild and her blouse awry。
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〃DONNAY…MA…UN…MORSO…DOO…PANG；〃 she articulated painfully。
And in that moment； as she put her hand in that of Chuck Mory； across the
ocean； her face was very beautiful with contentment。
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Long Distance ＇1919＇
Chet Ball was painting a wooden chicken yellow。 The wooden
chicken was mounted on a six…by…twelve board。 The board was mounted
on four tiny wheels。 The whole would eventually be pulled on a string
guided by the plump； moist hand of some blissful five…year…old。
You got the incongruity of it the instant your eye fell upon Chet Ball。
Chet's shoulders alone would have loomed large in contrast with any
wooden toy ever devised； including the Trojan horse。 Everything about
him； from the big； blunt…fingered hands that held the ridiculous chick to
the great muscular pillar of his neck； was in direct opposition to his task；
his surroundings； and his attitude。
Chet's proper milieu was Chicago； Illinois （the West Side）； his job that
of lineman for the Gas； Light & Power Company； his normal working
position astride the top of a telegraph pole； supported in his perilous perch
by a lineman's leather belt and the kindly fates； both of which are likely to
trick you in an emergency。
Yet now he lolled back among his pillows； dabbing complacently at
the absurd yellow toy。 A description of his surroundings would sound
like pages 3 to 17 of a novel by Mrs。 Humphry Ward。 The place was all
greensward； and terraces； and sundials； and beeches； and even those
rhododendrons without which no English novel or country estate is
complete。 The presence of Chet Ball among his pillows and some
hundreds similarly disposed revealed to you at once the fact that this
particular English estate was now transformed into Reconstruction
Hospital No。 9。
The painting of the chicken quite finished （including two beady black
paint eyes）； Chet was momentarily at a loss。 Miss Kate had not told him
to stop painting when the chicken was completed。 Miss Kate was at the
other end of the sunny garden walk； bending over a wheel chair。 So Chet
went on painting； placidly。 One by one； with meticulous nicety； he
painted all his fingernails a bright and cheery yellow。 Then he did the
whole of his left thumb and was starting on the second joint of the index
finger when Miss Kate came up behind him and took the brush gently
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from his strong hands。
〃You shouldn't have painted your fingers；〃 she said。
Chet surveyed them with pride。 〃They look swell。〃
Miss Kate did not argue the point。 She put the freshly painted
wooden chicken on the table to dry in the sun。 Her eyes fell upon a letter
bearing an American postmark and addressed to Sergeant Chester Ball；
with a lot of cryptic figures and letters strung out after it； such as A。E。F。
and Co。 11。
〃Here's a letter for you！〃 She infused a lot of Glad into her voice。
But Chet only cast a languid eye upon it and said； 〃Yeh？〃
〃I'll read it to you； shall I？ It's a nice fat one。〃
Chet sat back； indifferent； negatively acquiescent。 And Miss Kate
began to read in her clear young voice； there in the sunshine and scent of
the centuries…old English garden。
It marked an epoch in Chet's lifethat letter。 It reached out across the
Atlantic Ocean from the Chester Ball of his Chicago days； before he had
even heard of English gardens。
Your true lineman has a daredevil way with the women； as have all
men whose calling is a hazardous one。 Chet was a crack workman。 He
could shinny up a pole； strap his emergency belt； open his tool kit； wield
his pliers with expert deftness； and climb down again in record time。 It
was his pleasureand seemingly the pleasure and privilege of all lineman's
gangs the world ove
