網頁圖片
PDF
ePub 版
[graphic]

The meadow was searched in vain; and he got over the stile into the next field, looking towards a small pond which was now reduced to its summer shallowness, so as to leave a wide margin of good adhesive mud.

Here, however, sat Eppie, discoursing cheerfully to her own small boot, which she was using as a bucket to convey the water into a deep hoof mark, while her little naked foot was planted comfortably on a cushion of olivegreen mud. A red-headed calf was observing her with alarmed doubt through the opposite hedge.

Here was clearly a case which demanded severe treatment; but Silas, overcome with joy at finding his treasure again, could do nothing but snatch her up and cover her with half-sobbing kisses.

It was not until he had carried her home, and had begun to think of washing, that he recollected the need that he should punish Eppie and "make her remember." The idea that she might run away again and come to harm gave him unusual resolution, and for the first time he determined to try the coal hole — a small closet near the hearth.

"Naughty, naughty Eppie," he suddenly began, holding her on his knee, and pointing to her muddy feet and clothes" naughty to cut with the scissors and run away. Eppie must go into the coal hole for being naughty. Daddy must put her in the coal hole."

He half expected that this would be shock enough, and that Eppie would begin to cry. But instead of that, she

began to shake herself on his knee, as if the proposition opened a pleasing novelty. Seeing that he must proceed to extremities, he put her into the coal hole and held the door closed, with a trembling sense that he was using a strong measure.

For a moment there was silence, but then came a little cry, "Opy, opy!" and Silas let her out again, saying, "Now Eppie will never be naughty again, else she must go in the coal hole-a black, naughty place."

The weaving must stand still a long while this morning, for Eppie must now be washed and have clean clothes on; but it was to be hoped that this punishment would have a lasting effect, and save time in future — though, perhaps, it would have been better if Eppie had cried more.

In half an hour she was clean again, and Silas, having turned his back to see what he could do with the linen band, threw it down again, with the reflection that Eppie would be good without fastening for the rest of the morning.

He turned round again, and was going to place her in her little chair near the loom, when she peeped out at him with black face and hands again, and said, "Eppie in de toal hole!"

This total failure of the coal-hole discipline shook Silas's faith in the efficacy of punishment.

"She'd take it all for fun," he observed to Dolly, "if I did n't hurt her, and that I can't do, Mrs. Winthrop. If

she makes me a bit of trouble, I can bear it, and she's got no tricks but what she 'll grow out of."

66

'Well, that's partly true, Master Marner," said Dolly; "and if you can't bring your mind to frighten her off touching things, you must do what you can to keep them out of her way."

Adapted from GEORGE ELIOT in Silas Marner

[blocks in formation]

But pleasures are like poppies spread,
You seize the flower, its bloom is shed!
Or like the snowfall in the river,

A moment white - then melts forever;
Or like the borealis race,

That flit ere you can point their place;
Or like the rainbow's lovely form,
Evanishing amid the storm.

ROBERT BURNS

TOM DIVIDES THE PUFF

On Wednesday, the day before the aunts and uncles were coming, there were such various and suggestive scents, as of plum cakes in the oven and jellies in the hot state, mingled with the aroma of gravy, that it was impossible to feel altogether gloomy; there was hope in the air. Tom and Maggie made several inroads into the kitchen, and, like other marauders, were induced to keep aloof for a time only by being allowed to carry away a sufficient load of booty.

"Tom," said Maggie, as they sat on the boughs of the elder tree, eating their jam puffs, "shall you run away to-morrow?"

"No," said Tom, slowly, when he had finished his puff, and was eyeing the third, which was to be divided between them, "no, I shan't.”

66

Why, Tom? Because Lucy's coming?"

"No," said Tom, opening his pocket knife and holding it over the puff, with his head on one side in a dubitative manner. (It was a difficult problem to divide that very irregular polygon into two equal parts.) "What do I care about Lucy? She's only a girl-she can't play at bandy."

"Is it the tipsy cake, then?" said Maggie, exerting her hypothetic powers, while she leaned forward toward Tom with her eyes fixed on the hovering knife.

« 上一頁繼續 »