December 8, 1915.Meggie Cleary celebrated her fourth birthday.Mother cleared the breakfast dishes, quietly stuffed a brown paper packet into her arms, and told her to go outside.So Meggie crouched behind the gorse bush by the front door and yanked impatiently.Her fingers were clumsy, and the bag was tightly bound.It looked a little like something from a Polynesian grocery store, which made her think that whatever it contained was not homemade or donated, but bought.That's a big deal.There was a nice pale gold thing peeking out from one corner of the bag; she tore at the paper bag more vigorously, and the long strips of paper tore off were in a mess.

"Agnes, oh, Agnes!" she said fondly, blinking impatiently at the doll lying in its tattered cover. It's not easy.Meggie had only been in Wahine's grocery store once in her life, and that was as far back as May; and since she was a decent girl already, she sat neatly in the little car beside her mother, excited The mood made her dizzying and unforgettable.But Agnes, the rag doll in a pink brocade dress with beige lace on the grocery store counter, she saw clearly and remembered vividly.It was then that she called it Agnes in her mind.It was the only name she knew pretty enough to be worthy of this incomparable little thing.In the months that followed, however, she thought of Agnes wistfully.Meggie didn't have a doll, and didn't know that little girls were always associated with dolls. She happily got her hands dirty with whistles, slingshots, and worn-out soldier puppets her brothers had left behind. , the boots were covered with mud spots.

It never occurred to her to play with Agnes.Now she caressed the hem of the pink dress, more gorgeous than any woman she had ever seen; she hugged Agnes tenderly.The doll's arms and legs are jointed and can be moved at will; even her neck and slender, shapely waist are also jointed.Her blond hair was combed into a beautiful high bun, covered with beads, and her white breasts were faintly revealed under the beige triangle shawl scarf with beige brooch.The face was beautifully painted on bone china, which was unglazed, giving the carefully painted skin a natural, matte texture.The blue eyes are lifelike, shining between the lashes made of real hair, the iridescence of the eyeballs and the surrounding stripes and halos of dark blue painted.Fascinated, Meggie also noticed that when Agnes fell back a certain amount, her eyes closed.There was a black beauty mark above one flushed cheek, and her dark mouth was parted slightly to show small white teeth.Meggie put the doll lightly on her lap, crossed her feet comfortably, and sat looking at it.

She was still sitting behind the gorse bushes when Jack and Hughie came rustling across the grass near the fence that the scythe couldn't mow, her hair typical of the Clearys, Cleary The children in the family, except Frank, had thick, reddish hair.Jack nudged his brother lightly and pointed excitedly.Grinning at each other, they parted into two groups, pretending to be horsemen chasing a Maori rebel.But Meggie didn't hear a bit, she was watching Agnes intently, humming softly to herself. "Meggie, what's that you got?" Jack yelled, rushing forward. "Show us!"

"Yes, show us!" Hughie giggled and outflanked him. She hugged the doll tightly to her chest, shaking her head: "No! She's mine! It's my birthday present!" "Show us, quick! We'll just take a look." Pride and joy prevailed.She held up the doll for her brothers to see. "Look, isn't she pretty? Her name is Agnes." "Agnes? Agnes?" Jack teased mercilessly. "What a silly name! Why don't you call her Margaret or Betty?" "Because she is Agnes!" Hughie whistled when he noticed that the doll's wrists were tenoned. "Hey, Jack, look! Its hands move!"

"Where? Let me see." "No!" Meggie hugged the doll tightly, tears streaming down her eyes. "No, you'll break it! Oh, Jack, don't take her--you'll break her!" "Bah!" His little filthy hands gripped her wrists tightly. "Do you want some shit? Don't cry or I'll tell Bob." When Tiki grabbed the doll's skirt and pulled it out She pulled her skin in the opposite direction until a white seam opened. "Give it to me, or I'll really work hard!" "Don't! Don't, Jack, please don't! You'll break her, I know, you will! Oh, don't touch her! Don't take her, I beg you!" She didn't care about the roughly grasped wrist, she just hugged the doll tightly, crying and kicking around.

"Got it!" Hughie exclaimed as the doll slipped from Meggie's crossed forearms. Same for Jack, Hughie, and Meggie.They also found the doll fascinating, and they took off her coat, skirt, and long, lacy panties, and Agnes lay there naked, being pushed and tugged by the boys; One foot was forced to the back of the head, and after a while, she was asked to look down at her back, and they made her do all the softening techniques imaginable.Meggie was standing there crying, and they didn't even care.It did not occur to her to seek help, for there was little help or sympathy in the Cleary house for those who did not fight for themselves, and the girls were no exception.

The blond hair of the rag doll was thrown off, and those beads flew into the deep grass in a blink of an eye, where they disappeared.A dirty boot had trampled carelessly on the discarded garment, and the satin was smudged with oil from the smithy.Meggie knelt down and frantically searched the ground, collecting those small and exquisite clothes to prevent them from being damaged again.Then she started digging around where she thought the beads might be strewn about.Her eyes were blurred with tears, which was a pain she had never experienced in her heart.Because so far, she has never had anything to be sad about.

Frank threw the shoe into the cold water with a hiss, and straightened up.The pain in his back has been gone these days, maybe it's because he's used to blacksmithing.In the past, his father always said that the pain would be gone after six months.But Frank knew that he had been working with forges and anvils for a long time.He pinched his fingers with hatred and resentment.Throwing the hammer into the toolbox, he brushed his long, straight black hair from his forehead with trembling hands, ripped the battered leather apron from his neck, and laid his shirt on a pile of straw in the corner.He plodded toward the corner, and stood there for a moment, gazing at the cracked wall of the shop as if it didn't exist; his black eyes were wide and glazed.

He was short, not more than five feet three inches, still as thin as a teenager, but his bare shoulders and arms were muscular from hammer work: the white smooth skin was covered with a layer of sweat In shiny.His hair and eyes were black and exotic, his full lips and broad nose made him look different from his family, but there was Maori blood on his mother's side, which showed in him.He was almost 16, while Bob was just over 11, Jack 10, Hughie 9, Stuart 5 and little Meggie 3.At this moment, he remembered that today was December 8th, and Meggie would be 4 years old.He put on his shirt and walked out of the smithy.

His family's house stood on top of a hill a hundred feet above the smithy and stables.Like all New Zealand houses, the house was of wood, spread out over a large area.It was a one-story house, theoretically speaking, if there was an earthquake.Still others may remain unbroken.There were gorse bushes all around the house, and at the moment it was in full bloom, and the lawn was green and lush, like all New Zealand meadows.Even in mid-winter, when the hoarfrost sometimes persists all day long in the shade, the grass does not turn brown, and the long warm summer days only make it greener.The drizzle that fell slowly did not harm the soft fragrance of all the growing plants.There is no snow here, and there is plenty of sunshine, just enough to make everything bloom and never wilt.The thunder in New Zealand is not so much falling from the sky as it is rising from the ground.There was always a suffocating, waiting lurking here, that elusive trembling and hammering that actually seemed to come from under the soles of the feet.For beneath the earth lurks a formidable force that thirty years ago made a whole towering mountain vanish without a trace; The volcanic smoke reached the sky, and the rivers in the mountains flowed with steaming water.The huge mud lake is boiling like a pan of oil; the seawater god mountain is slapping the cliffs hauntingly.When the next tide comes, these crags may no longer exist to meet them; in some places the surface of the earth's crust is only nine hundred feet thick. Yet it is a benevolent, benevolent land.Beyond the house stretched a rolling plain as emerald as the emerald in Fiona Cleary's engagement ring, dotted with thousands of clusters of yellow and white, visible only on approach. That's a herd of sheep.The undulating hills are connected to the light blue sky, and the 10,000-foot-high Mount Egmont rises from the ground. Its slanting slopes inserted into the clouds are still covered with snow. The symmetry of the two feet is so perfect that it even looks like Frank. In this way, everyone who can see it is always amazed. It was a laborious walk from the blacksmith's shop to his own house, but Frank did it in a hurry.Because he knew that walking slowly was not an option; his father's instructions were crystal clear.Just as he turned the corner he saw the gang of children by the gorse bushes. Meggie's doll had been bought by Frank at a Polynesian grocer, but he still didn't quite understand what had driven her to do that.She was not keen on giving presents on her birthday, which was impractical because there was no money to buy them.She had never bought toys for any of the children before, she had bought them all clothes; birthdays and Christmas were opportunities for them to buy what little clothes they had.However, Meggie had apparently seen the doll on her only chance to be in town, and Fee hadn't forgotten that.Frank had asked her about it once, and she'd just muttered that girls should have a doll, then changed the subject right away. Jack and Hughie fought over the doll on the path in front of the door, fiddling with her tenons mercilessly.Frank could only see the back of Meggie, who was standing there watching helplessly as her brothers blasphemed Agnes.Her neat white socks slid off and hung wrinkly around her little black boots, and her pink legs showed three or four inches under the brown velvet Sunday dress.The sun shone in the sun in beautifully combed locks of curls that hung down the back, and the hair was neither red nor blond, but somewhere in between.The white taffeta bows that tied the curls on the forehead and kept them from hanging down the face were drooping dirty and ruthless, and the clothes were dusty.With one hand she clutched the doll's dress tightly, and with the other she pushed Hughie in vain. "You goddamn bastards!" Jack and Hughie panicked and ran, leaving the doll behind while Frank scolded them for being smart. "You little bastards, if you touch this doll again, let me grab it and I'll fuck your ass off!" Frank yelled after them. He bent down, put his arms around Meggie's shoulders, and shook gently: "Okay, stop crying! Well, they're gone, and I promise they won't dare touch your doll again. It's your birthday today, give me a smile, okay?" She puffed up her face and blinked her eyes.She gazed at Frank with large, sad eyes full of sadness, which made him choke with rage.He took out a dirty handkerchief from his trouser pocket, wiped her face clumsily, and then folded the handkerchief to pinch her nose. "Blow it!" She did as he was told, sobbing loudly, though her tears were drying. "Oh, F-F-Frank, they rob-rob-robbed Agnes!" she groaned. "Her head-head-hair is all gone, and all the beautiful beads-beads on it are lost-lost-lost! It all fell into the grass-grass-grass, and I can't find it!" ①Meggie said the word "small" out of sound due to crying and slurred pronunciation--Annotation. Tears welled up again, wetting Frank's hands, and he looked at them for a moment before licking them away. "Well, we've got to find them, don't we? But you know, you can't find anything by crying. What nonsense are you talking about? I haven't heard you write a novel in six months! Come on , blow your nose again, and pick up that poor...Agnes. She'll get a tan if you don't dress her." He asked her to sit on the side of the road, and gently handed her the doll, then he lay down in the grass and looked around, finally cheered and raised a bead. "Look! This is the first one, and we'll find them all, just wait and see." Meggie looked admiringly at her eldest brother as he dug through the grass for pearls, picking them up one by one.Then, remembering how delicate Agnes's skin must be and how easily it gets sunburned, she concentrated on dressing the doll.It appears that the rag doll suffered no real damage.Her hair was loose and unkempt, and her arms and legs were pulled very dirty by the bald boys, but she moved as usual.A tortoiseshell comb was stuck above each of Meggie's ears.She pulled one down and began to brush Agnes's hair; it was real human hair, deftly braided, glued to a base of tulle, and bleached straw-blond. . While she was combing a large knot with her hands, something terrible happened.The hair fell out all at once, and it fell into a mess and got stuck between the teeth of the comb.For a moment nothing was left on Agnes's broad forehead. There was no hair, not even a bald skull, but only a terrible hole with its mouth open.Meggie shuddered in terror; bending down to look inside the doll's skull.The upside-down contours of cheeks and jaws were dimmed, a ray of light shone between parted lips, teeth like a shadow of a black beast; above all were Agnes' eyes, two A rattling, hideous ball, a wire pierced mercilessly through her head, passing over the eyeball. Meggie's screams were high and high, not like a child's; she dropped Agnes all at once, screaming, covering her face with her hands, shaking and trembling.Then she felt Frank pull her fingers away and take her in his arms, pressing her face under his neck.She put her arms around him and took comfort from him until his closeness calmed her down.She felt so comfortable smelling him, even though it was mixed with horse smell, sweat and iron dust. When she calmed down, Frank asked her to tell him what had happened.He picked up the doll and stared bewilderedly into the empty interior of his head, trying to remember if he had been plagued by strange fears as a child.But it was people, their whispers and cold eyes, the thin, wrinkled face of his mother, the trembling hands and her shoulders as she held his uneasy shadows on his mind. What on earth had Meggie seen that made her look like this?Meggie would not be so upset, he thought, if poor Agnes had bled as her hair was torn off.Bloodshed was a real thing: someone in the Cleary family was about to shed blood at least every week. "Her eyes, her eyes!" murmured Meggie, who didn't want to look at the doll anymore. "She's a marvelous thing of flesh and blood, Meggie," he murmured, his face pressed against her hair.How soft, how rich, how radiant was that hair! It took him half an hour to coax her to see Agnes, and another half hour to persuade her to look through the hole in the top of the doll's head.He showed her how the eyes had been made, how they had been carefully lined up so that they fitted and opened and closed. "Come on, it's time for you to go inside now," he said to her, picking her up and thrusting the doll between their chests. "Let's go get Mommy to fix her up, shall we? Let's wash and iron her clothes and stick her hair on, and I'll make you some hairpins out of these beads so they It won't fall off, and you can comb her hair however you like." Fiona Cleary was peeling potatoes in the kitchen.She was a very demure, rather pretty, but unsmiling, serious woman of slightly underaverage stature.She has a beautiful figure, and although she has been pregnant with six children in her lower body, her slender waist has not yet thickened.She was dressed in gray cotton with a skirt that trailed the spotless floor, a huge, starched white pullover apron, and a neat, flawless bow tied at the back of the upper waist.She was in the kitchen and the back garden from morning to night, her stout black boots making a circuitous path from the stove to the laundry, to the little vegetable patch, to the clothesline, and back to the stove. She put the knife on the table and stared at Frank and Meggie, her beautiful mouth drooping. "Meggie, you were told not to get your clothes dirty this morning so you could put on your best. Look, you're a little slob!" "Mom, it's not her fault," Frank said unconvinced. "Jack and Hughie took her rag doll and they wanted to figure out how the doll's arms and legs work. I promised her to fix it like new, we can do that, right?" "Let me see." Fei reached out and took the doll. She is a taciturn woman who doesn't like to talk too much.No one, not even her husband, knew what was going on in her head; she left it to him to discipline the children, and, except in the most unusual circumstances, she followed him without reproach or complaint. do it.Meggie had heard the boys whisper that she was as afraid of Daddy as they were, but, even if that was true, she hid that fear under an elusive, slightly melancholy calm.She never laughed out loud, and she never got angry. When Fee finished her inspection, she put Agnes on the cupboard next to the stove and looked at Meggie. "I'll wash her clothes and do her hair to-morrow morning. I think Frank can glue her hair up and give her a bath after tea to-night." This is not so much a comfort, but rather a matter of fact.Meggie nodded, smiling uncertainly.Sometimes she wanted so badly to hear her mother laugh, but her mother never did.She realized that they shared something extraordinary that had nothing in common with her father and brothers, but she didn't understand that extraordinary except the steely back and the restless feet. what is something.Mother always nodded absently in answer, flung up her long skirts, and bustled deftly between the stove and the table.She's always doing, doing, doing! None of the children except Frank knew that Fee was always too tired to relieve.There's so much to do, but Gemini barely has the money or the time to do it.There were only hands, and she looked forward to the day when Meggie grew up and could help. Although the child could already do some simple tasks, it was impossible for a four-year-old child to lighten the burden.Only the youngest of six children is a girl, and something can be expected from her.All who knew her sympathized with her and envied her, but this was of no use to the work to be done.There was a mountain of unfinished socks in her sewing basket, and a pair still hung on the knitting needles; Hughie's jumper was too small to wear, but Jack couldn't replace it. It was sheer coincidence that Padraic Cleary was coming home the week of Meggie's birthday.It's still early for the sheep shearing season, and he is active in the local area, like plowing and sowing.By profession he was a shearer, a seasonal occupation from midsummer to late winter, and after that came lambing.Usually, during the first month of spring and summer, he always managed to find a lot of work to meet the time; like helping with lambing, plowing, or working as a substitute for a local dairy farmer, Take him out of the endless bi-weekly milking job.He went wherever there was work, leaving his family to fend for themselves in that big dirty house, which was not as innocuous to them as it seemed.Unless a man is fortunate enough to own the land himself, there is no other way. When he returned home not long after the sun had set, the lamps were already lit and their shadows were flickering on the high ceiling.Except for Frank, the other boys were huddled together on the back porch, playing with a frog.Padraic knew where Frank was because he heard the constant crackling of axes from the direction of the woodpile.He paused on the back porch, kicked Jack in the ass and slapped Bob on the ear. "Help Frank chop wood, you lazy bastards. Better get the job done before Mama brings the tea, or I'll beat you to pieces." He nodded to Fee, who was busy by the fire; he neither kissed her nor embraced her, for he considered the love between husband and wife to be shown only in the bedroom.He was yanking his muddy boots off with the shoehorn, when Meggie hopped to fetch his slippers.He grinned down at her with that peculiar sense of wonder that he always felt whenever he saw her.She was so pretty, and her hair was so beautiful; and he took one of her curls, straightened it, and let it go again, just to see how it bounced when it fell back into place.He picked her up and walked to the only comfortable chair in the kitchen.It was a Windsor chair with a heat support attached to the seat.He drew his chair closer to the fire, sat down in it with a slight sigh, and then, drawing out his pipe, he tapped the spent tobacco from the pot on the floor carelessly.Meggie curled up on his knees, her arms round his neck; she gazed into the light through his cropped, blond beard -- a constant pleasure of her nights -- and her icy face. The little face leaned towards him. "How are you, Fee?" Padraic Cleary asked his wife. "Very well, Paddy. Are you done with the pasture work today?" ①Paderick's pet name. -- Annotation "It's done. It's all done. I can start working on the ranch tomorrow morning. God, I'm so tired!" "I'm sure it is. Did MacPherson give you that queer mare again?" "Exactly. You don't think he's going to fiddle with the gate by himself and let me drive the pinto? I feel like my arm was ripped off. I bet That mare is the toughest mare An Zaron has ever had." "Never mind. Old Robertson's horses are fine horses, and you'll be there in no time." "Not so fast." He filled a pot of low-grade tobacco, took a wick for lighting from the pot beside the stove, flicked it quickly into the fire door, and lit it.He leaned back in his chair and took a deep drag on his cigarette, the pipe crackling. "How does it feel to be four, Meggie?" he asked his daughter. "Oh yes, Dad." "Did Mom give you a present?" "Oh Dad, how did you and Mom know I wanted Agnes?" "Agnes?" He immediately turned his head to Fay, smiling, frowning and joking with her: "Is her name Agnes?" "Yes, she's beautiful, Dad, and I want to look at her all day long." "She's lucky to have something nice to look at," Fee said with a wry smile. "Poor Meggie had Jack and Hughie snatch the doll before she had a good look at it." "Oh, the bald boy is always the bald boy, is it badly damaged?" "It's all fixed. It didn't get too bad, and Frank kept them in check." "Frank? What's he doing here? He's gotta smith all day. Hunter's waiting for the door." "He's been in the shop all day. He's come back for some tools," Fee answered quickly.Padraic is too harsh on Frank. "Oh, Dad, Frank's the best brother in the world! He saved my Agnes from dying. He's going to glue her hair on after tea." "Okay," her dad said lazily, leaning his head back in the chair and closing his eyes. It was hot in front of the stove, but he didn't seem to feel it, the sweat on his forehead was glistening.He put his arms under the back of his head and dozed off. It was from Padraic Cleary that the children inherited various shades of reddish curls, though none of them had a redness as striking as his.He was a short, stocky man of iron and steel, his legs ringed by a life of horse-handling, and his arms lengthened by years of sheep-shearing; He has thick golden hair, which must be ugly if he is dark.His eyes were light blue, always squinting, like a sailor gazing into the distance; his face was cheerful, with a strange smile that made others like him at first glance.His nose was imposing, a true Roman nose, which must have puzzled his Irish counterparts, but the Irish coast is a shipwrecked place.He still spoke with a soft, quick, and indistinct Goyonway ① Irish accent, pronouncing the "chi" sound at the end as a "si" sound.However, the nearly 20 years of living experience on the other side of the earth have made his accent a little bit different.So the sound of "ah" became "ah", and the speed of speech was slightly slower, like an old clock that needed a good winding.He was an optimistic man who managed to carry himself through his rough and dreary years more cheerfully than most, and despite being a stern conformist with a big boot kicking him, in All but one of his children adored him.If the bread was too much for him, he starved himself; if he had a choice between buying himself old clothes and making new ones for some child, he didn't want them himself.It was a far more reliable sign of his love for them than countless cheap kisses.He has an extremely violent temper and once killed a man.He was lucky then; the man was an Englishman with a boat in Dun Laurel harbor ready to ride the tide to New Zealand. ①Galway, a place name in Ireland. -- Annotation Fee went to the back door and called out, "Tea time!" The children filed in.Frank came last, carrying a bundle of wood, which he threw into a large box by the stove.Padraic put Meggie down and walked to the head of the unique dining table at the back of the kitchen, the children sat down around the two sides, and Meggie climbed onto the wooden box that Dad had placed on the chair closest to him. Fiona served the food directly among the plates placed on the round table, with as much agility and dexterity as any of the waiters.She served them two trays at a time, first for Paddy, then for Frank, then for Meggie, and finally for herself. "Erkel! Stu!" said Stuart, scowling as he picked up his knife and fork. "Why do you have to call me Stu?" ①Stew in English means stew and simmer, which is homonymous with Stu, the pet name of Stew. -- Annotation "Eat your meal." Dad growled. The plates are all large, and they are actually full of food.Boiled potatoes, lamb stew, and lentils from the garden that day, all in generous spoonfuls.All of them, including Stewart.Not paying attention to the unspoken reprimands and expressions of disgust, he wiped his plate clean with bread and ate several more slices of bread slathered with butter and homemade gooseberry jam. piece.Fiona sat down, finished her meal hastily, then got up at once, and ran to the kitchen table again, filling the soup plate with sugar biscuits smeared with jam.Plenty, steaming custard gravy was poured into each plate, and they were slowly brought to the table again in two plates.Finally, she sighed and sat down, she could eat this plate safely. "Ah, that's great! Rolled jam pudding!" cried Meggie, spooning in the custard until streaks of pink jam gushed out of the yellow custard. "Hey, Miss Meggie, it's your birthday, so Mom made you your favorite pudding," said her dad, smiling. This time there were no complaints: no matter how well the pudding was done, everyone ate it with gusto.The Clearys have a sweet tooth. Although they ate a lot of starches, not one of them gained a pound of flesh.In work and play they use up every ounce of food they eat.Vegetables and fruit are eaten, for they are food, and it is bread, potatoes, meat, and hot pudding that relieve fatigue. After Fee poured each a cup of tea from her huge teapot, they sat for more than an hour, chatting, drinking tea, or reading.Paddy puffed with his pipe.Breathe out the mist while burying your head in a book you borrowed from the library.Fee kept refilling the book and Bob immersed himself in another book, also from the library, while the younger children planned what to do tomorrow.The school had begun the long summer vacation, and the children were all idle, eager to start doing the odd jobs assigned to them in front of the garden and behind the house.Bob was to put on the last coat of paint when necessary, and Jack and Hughie took care of the woodpile, the building work outside the house, and the milking; It can be said that it is as easy as playing.Paddy lifted his head from the book now and then to give them some more work.And Fiona said nothing; Frank slumped wearily in his chair, sipping cup after cup of tea. Finally Fee seated Meggie on a high stool and tied her hair with a handkerchief, a nightly ritual, before sending her off to bed with Stuart and Tiki.Jack and Bob said hello and went outside to feed the dogs.Frank took Meggie's doll to the counter and glued the hair back on.Padraic stretched, closed the book, and put his pipe into a large, glistening shell that served as an ashtray. "Oh mom, I'm going to bed." "Good night, Paddy." Fiona cleared the dishes from the table and took a large tin basin from a hook on the wall.She placed the basin on the other side of the counter that Frank was using, lifted the heavy cast-iron kettle from the stove, and filled the basin with hot water.The cold water mixed with the steaming hot water was poured from an old kerosene drum.Then she swished a wire basket of soap back and forth in the basin and began washing the dishes, rinsing them, and setting them against the cups. Frank worked on the rag doll without looking up, but as the plates piled up, he stood up silently, took down a towel, and dried them.He walked to and fro between the round table and the cupboard with the lightness of a long-acquainted work.He and his mother are taking the risk of the world.不过偷着这样做的，因为在帕迪统辖的天地里，适当的分工是一条最严厉的法规。家务活是女人家的事，这是没二话的。女人的活不许家里的男人沾手。可是，每天晚上，在帕迪上床睡觉以后，弗兰克总要帮帮他妈妈。菲为了能让他这样做，就故意拖延洗盘子的时间一直到他们听见帕迪的拖鞋落在地板上的沉重的声音。他脱了拖鞋就决不再到回房里来了。 菲温柔地望着弗兰克。"我真不知道没有你，我该怎么过，弗兰克。可你不该干，到早晨你会疲乏之极的。" "没关系，妈妈。擦几个盘子累不死我。你够辛苦了，给你帮的忙也够少的了。" "弗兰克，那是该我于的事，我不在乎。" "我真希望有朝一日咱们能富起来，那样你就可以雇个女佣人了。" "那是痴心妄想。"那将那双沾着肥皂的发红的手在洗碗布上擦了擦，然后往腰眼上一样，叹道。她的两眼停在了她儿子身上，隐隐地流露出忧虑的神色。她意识到，他那强烈的不满，超过了一个劳动者对命运的正常的抱怨。"弗兰克，别心比天高了，这只会招来烦恼。我们是干活吃饭的人，也就是说我们富不了，也不会有女佣人。满足于你的现状和你现有的东西吧。在你说那种话的时候，你是在导没你爸爸，这不是他应得的，这个你心里明白。他既不喝酒，也不赌钱，辛辛苦苦地干活儿都是为了咱们。他挣的钱连一个子儿也没进自己的腰包，统统都给咱们了。" 他那肌肉发达的肩旁不耐烦地耸了起来，那张黝黑的脸变得严峻而又冷酷。"为什么期望过上比做苦工更好些的日子就如此要不得呢？我不明白，想让你使上个佣人有什么不对。" "错就错在那是不可能的！你知道，我们没有钱供你上学，要是你上不了学，你怎么能过的比卖力气的人更好呢？你的口音，你的衣服，你的双手都说明你是个靠干活挣饭吃的人。可是手上长茧子并不丢人。就像你爸说的，一个人手上有茧子，你就知道他是个老实人。" 弗兰克耸了耸肩，不再说什么了，盘子都已经放好，菲取出了针线筐，在火边那把帕迪的椅子上坐了下来，弗兰克又回去修布娃娃了。 "可怜的小梅吉！"他突然说道。 "怎么了？" "今天，那些讨厌的小鬼头拉扯她的布娃娃时，她站在那儿哭着，象是她的整个世界被扯成了碎片似的。"他低眼看着那布娃娃，她的头发又重新粘上去了。"艾格尼丝！她是从哪儿找来这样一个名字的啊？" "我猜她一定是听我说起过艾格尼丝·福蒂斯丘-斯迈思。" "我把娃娃还给她的时候，她往它的脑壳里望了一眼，几乎给吓死了。不知道娃娃的眼睛里有什么东西吓着她了，我也搞不清是怎么回事。" "梅吉老是看见实际上并不存在东西。" "没有钱让小孩子们去上学，真是可怜。他们多聪明啊。" "哦，弗兰克！要是想啥就是啥，叫化子也就成了财神爷啦。"他妈困乏地说道。她用手揉了揉眼睛，颤抖了一下，把补衣针深深地扎进了一个灰色的毛线团。"我什么也干不了了，累得眼都看不清了。" "去睡吧，妈，我会把灯吹熄的。" "我添上火就去睡。" "我来添吧。"他从桌边站起来，将那雅致的瓷娃娃小心翼翼地放到碗柜上的一个糕饼桶后面，这儿可以使它免受糟踏。他并不担心它会再遭孩子们的蹂躏，他们害怕他的报复更甚于怕他们的父亲，因为弗兰克的脾气大。和妈妈或妹妹在一起的时候，他从没发作过，可那些秃小子们全吃过他脾气的苦头。 菲奥娜望着他，为他感到伤心。弗兰克身上有一种狂野的、不顾一切的性子，这是麻烦的预兆。要是他和帕迪能更好的相处就好了！可是他们的意见总不能一致，老是有争执。也许他太关心她了，也许做妈妈有些偏爱他。如果真是这样的话，那就是她的过错了。不过这表明他有一颗爱母之心，也是他好的地方。他只是想叫她的日子过得更松快些罢了。这时，她又觉得她在盼着梅吉长大，接过哥哥肩上的重担。 她从桌上拿起一盏小灯，接着又放了下来，向弗兰克走去，他正蹲在炉子前，往那个大炉膛里添木柴，拨弄着风门。他那白白的胳膊上布满了凸起的脉络，那双好看的手脏得该洗一洗了。她胆怯地伸出一只手去，轻轻地把落到了他眼前的直挺的黑发理顺。她这样做已经是近于爱抚了。 "晚安，弗兰克，谢谢你。" 在菲蹑手蹑脚地穿过通往前屋的门的时候，影子转着向前伸去。 弗兰克和鲍勃合用第一间卧室；她无声无息地把门推开，将灯举高，灯光浊在角落里的双人床上。鲍勃仰面朝天地躺在那里，嘴微微地张着；像拘一样颤着、抽动着。她走到床边，趁他的恶梦还没有完全做开的时候，把他的身子扳过来，侧着躺，然后她站在那里。低头看了他一会儿。他多像帕迪啊！ 在隔壁的房间里，杰克和休吉几乎抱到一起去了。这一对够人呛的小淘气！他们没有不调皮的时候，但是却没有恶意。她枉然地想把他们俩分开，多少整理一下他们的被褥，可是这两个红卷毛小子不愿分子。她轻轻地叹了口气，作罢了。她想不通他们俩像这样睡了一夜醒来以后，怎么能够恢复体力，可是，他们却似乎越来越壮实了。 梅吉和斯图尔特住的房子时这两个小家伙来说是太邋遢，太缺乏生气了；屋里漆的是沉闷的棕色，地面上铺的是棕色的油毡，墙上没有画片，和其它卧室没什么两样。 斯图尔特在倒着睡，他几乎全蒙进了被了里，只看得见穿着小睡衣的屁股撅在本来应该是脑袋所在的地方。菲发现他的头挨着膝盖，奇怪的是，他依然像平时一样，并不感到窒息。她小心地把手伸到被子里面，一下怔住了。又尿床了！(口害)，要是等到天亮，无疑连枕头也会尿湿的。他老是这样，颠倒过来，再尿上一泡。唉，五个孩子有一个尿床还算不错呢。 梅吉蜷成了一小团，大拇指含在嘴里，扎着手帕的头发全散开了。这是唯一的女孩子。菲在离去以前，只顺便瞟了她一眼；梅吉没有什么神秘之处，她是一个女性，菲知道她的命运将会如何。她既不羡慕她，也不怜悯她。男孩子可就不一样了，他们是奇迹，是从她女性的身体中幻化出来的男性。家里没个帮手是件苦事，但是值得。在与帕迪同类的人中间，他的儿子们是他所具有的品性最好的证明。让男人去养儿子吧，他是个真正的男人。 她轻轻地关上了自己卧宝的门，把灯放到了镜台上。她用灵巧的手指飞快地把外衣领口到髓部之间的许多扣子解开，从胳膊上脱了下来；她把胳膊从衬衣里褪了出来，非常小心地把衬衣抵在胸前。然后她轻轻地扭动身体，穿上了一件法兰绒长睡衣。只是在这时，在得体地把身子护住以后，她才丢开了衬衣，脱掉内裤和宽松的胸衣。扎得紧紧的金发散了下来，发卡全都放进了镜抬上的海贝壳里。但即使连那头柔美、厚密、又直又亮的头发，她也不许它们随随便便。她把双肘举到头上，两手弯到脖子后面，很快地把头发编了起来，然后她转过身向卧床走去，下意识地屏住了呼吸。可是帕迪已经睡着了，于是她深深地松子口气，这倒不是说帕迪有兴致的时候是一件坏事，因为他是个腼腆、温柔、体贴的男人。不过在梅吉两、三岁之前，再要孩子就太苦了。