Chapter 18 Chapter 17 Finding Hatty

After banging and banging at the garden door for a while, Tom threw himself against the door, weeping breathlessly.He heard the grandfather clock beating the time coldly inside, and there were faint voices and hurried footsteps upstairs. There was no way he could open the door, and that's when he realized that he was exhausted, and he didn't have the physical and mental strength needed to penetrate the door.He was locked out from seeing Hattie, he was locked out from going back to his own bed in the Kitsons' suite.Still, Hatty was more worried than he was for himself. Tom came back across the lawn and hid himself in a hidden place among the yew bushes.He could only wait patiently.

After what seemed like a long time, the garden door opened and Abel came out.Tom went up to him at once and said, "Abel, please tell me, how is Hattie?" Tom felt that he was prepared for whatever Abel might do to him.If Abel believed that he was a devil sent from hell, disguised as a little boy, to bring misfortune to Hatty--if Abel believed so, he must hate Tom and would Scold him, curse him, curse him with prayers and bible exorcism spells.But Tom never expected that Abel would deal with him by pretending not to see or hear Tom. "Abel—Abel—Abel," pleaded Tom, "is she not dead? Isn't she dead?" At last he saw Abel's eyelids quiver, and Abel allowed himself to see Tom for a moment.Tom's face, covered with grime from climbing the tree, now had two clean lines running from his eyes to his chin, washed by tears of weariness and fear.Anyway, Tom looked more like a little boy than a monster, and Abel took pity on him and spoke to him directly for the last time.

"No," said Abel, "she's still alive." Then he looked straight ahead again, took a deep breath, and deliberately walked past Tom's side toward the potting shed. Abel did not close the garden door behind him - it had been left wide open all those summer days.Tom's idea was to get back to the house at once, and he didn't know whether to go back to bed, or to find out what happened to Hatty. The answer was already in front of him.This time, when he walked step by step into the hall, the furniture did not disappear before his eyes: the stuffed animals stayed where they were, and the glass eyes stared at him firmly from their glass cases; he even I had time to look at the mercury column in the barometer and found that it had reached "very dry".He walked through the hall and saw everything, clearly and clearly.He went to the grandfather clock and saw that the hands were pointing to eleven minutes to five, and he saw the pattern behind the hands again.Despite his worries for Hattie, his attention was drawn: there was nothing new in front of him, but everything seemed new to him.He still didn't know who the angelic figure on the clock was, holding the book in his hand, striding across sea and land at one step, but he felt he had almost a clue of its meaning.Perhaps he will soon understand everything.

Now, turning away from the grandfather clock, he made his way to the stairs: he saw that the stairs were carpeted.Each tread in the carpet was firmly fastened with shiny copper strips, and the carpet followed each tread gently up the stairs. Tom took a step toward the stairs, then stopped hesitantly, not knowing what he wanted to do.What he leaves behind is Hatty's Garden Kingdom, where Hatty, Abel, and he are the only three residents - and Abel even insists there are only two, denying that there are more.Now Tom was leaving the garden and entering the home in Melbourne: the people of Melbourne and their lives had surrounded him.At the foot of the stairs on the right is a row of hooks on which are various hats, coats and trench coats from the Melbourne family.Next to it was a shoe cabinet: Tom knew it was a shoe cabinet because the door was open a crack, and he could see all the leather shoes, cloth shoes, moccasins, gaiters, and galoshes of the Melbourne family on the partition inside. and shoe covers.Opposite the coat hook, to Tom's left, was another little ledge, on which were two marble writing tablets and a small safe inkwell, and an antique ebony round ruler: they belonged to the man in Melbourne. ?Next to the ledge was a door--the same door Susan had come out of once with the kindling and matches.Now Tom heard the murmurs of women beyond the door.He couldn't hear what they were saying or who they were, but it seemed to him that a voice sounded like Susan.

Tom felt as if he was among a group of strangers, alone and helpless.Hatty wasn't here, and there was a faint fear in his heart that maybe there wouldn't be Hattie anywhere.Abel just said, "She's alive." But maybe that meant "she's not dead yet," or worse, "She's alive for a while, but not for long."Tom had contrived to convince himself that Hattie was a ghost, and now he had to face the fact that, at some point, Hattie was bound to die.A ghost must die once before it can become a ghost— Tom analyzed anxiously and disorganized in his mind. It took a lot of courage for him to go up the first soft, noiseless stairs.If there hadn't been a grandfather clock ticking behind him, maybe—though Tom was very brave at times—maybe he'd lack that last ounce of courage.To him, the ticking of the bell was like a human heart, alive and beating every time--he thought of Hatty when he thought of it.So he mustered up his courage and walked upstairs.

He came to the second-floor landing, a part of the Melbourne home he had never seen before.At least Tom thought so: he forgot that his aunt and uncle lived in the house with the other tenants.But there wasn't much to remind him of that at the moment.The second-floor landing in the Melbourne home was carpeted, wider than the corridors between suites Tom knew, and there were many doors on the landing, each leading to a bedroom instead of just two. To the main entrance of the two suites.The little staircase that had led to Mrs. Bartholomew's front door now led to a small landing with three doors.

Tom took a good look at the second-floor landing: every door was closed.The three doors on the attic were also closed.There are so many doors, which door is Hatty lying behind? There was no clue, so Tom chose the door closest to him on the second-floor landing.He took a deep breath, concentrated his mind, tensed his muscles, and stabbed his head firmly into the wooden door, entering the room beyond the door. Hatty was not in this bedroom.There are dust jackets on the bed and other furniture here, indicating that this is a spare room.Outside the window was the garden: even though Tom was half stuck in the door, he could see the tops of the yew tree opposite, and the ivy-wrapped fir tree stood tall and didn't fall to the ground.He just wanted to find Hattie, so he didn't stop to look carefully at the scenery outside the window, and then he remembered it for some reason.

He pulled his head out of the door and considered what to do next.He had intended to poke his head through each door in turn until he found Hatty, but he now doubted the wisdom of that.He was already very tired, his ears were buzzing, his eyes were sore and sore, and even his stomach, which had been kept well by the door just now, felt a little nauseous.If he tried door after door and Hattie was behind the last door, he would never find her. Of course, in such extraordinary circumstances, it is understandable to resort to a little shady means.Tom began to peep through the keyhole, and put his ear to the sound inside.Through the third keyhole he heard something: a very soft, rhythmic rustling.He could not make out what the sound was, and looking through the keyhole he could see only a washstand with a basin and kettle, a lace curtain covering part of the window, and an upright chair.

He couldn't imagine what that sound was.At least, Hatty, who was lying on the bed injured and even dying, would definitely not be able to make such a sound.At the thought that Hattie was dying, he turned anxiously to try another door.But the moment he turned around, he suddenly thought that maybe Hattie was lying in this room. She was unconscious, unable to move, and could not make a sound, only her hands kept stroking Through her sheets: swish-swish-swish. Tom went back to the door that had made that sound, and began to poke his head into the wooden door.No sooner had his eyebrows entered the wood than he heard—his ears were sticking out—footsteps on the stairs behind him.Tom was afraid of being caught in the process of going through the door, so he quickly retracted his head and turned to look.

A man came upstairs.Under one arm he carried the clipboard Tom had seen in the hall below, and in his hand was the inkwell and ruler.The expression on his face was serious, like a man who works for a living and just finished his day's work.Who is he?It must be from Melbourne, Tom was sure of that: he had a Melbourne face. The man was coming straight up the landing--directly toward Tom, but he paid no attention to Tom.He stopped at the door Tom had just tried, and knocked lightly. "Mother?" The rustling stopped.A voice came from inside, and Tom recognized at once that it was Hattie's aunt: "Who is it?"

"James." James?Tom was astonished: the last time Tom saw James in the garden, he was a teenager.Tom's time has only passed a little, so much time has passed in the Melbourne family, and James has grown into a man-and a man busy with his career?He was unmistakably so, tall, big, strong, with a stiff, serious face set off by a high stiff collar, clean and white. "Come in," said the woman's voice, "I'm combing my hair." James went in, and Tom followed.He didn't want to do this at first, because he is not a boy who is not polite and likes to pry into other people's privacy, but James pushed open the door and asked, "How is Hattie?" They both stood in the bedroom: a man, a boy.James also looked around uneasily, like someone who knew he was the only one but still suspected someone else was in the room—a cat, perhaps. In front of the dressing-table mirror stood Hattie's aunt.Her long brown hair fell heavily to her waist and she was brushing it from crown to tip with that constant rustling sound.Tom looked carefully and saw that her hair was not quite brown now, but rather gray: time had passed for Hattie's aunt, too. Instead of answering James' question right away, she stopped combing and began twisting and braiding her hair.As she did so, she said coldly and casually, "Hatty will be all right." "Did the doctor say so?" "yes." "That's thankful." "Thank goodness!" Hattie's aunt, still working her hands through her hair, turned her face to her son. "Thank goodness! But what the hell is she doing to have an accident like this? Come to think of it, climbing a tree! Doesn't she understand what is suitable for her gender and age? She is not young, she should be sensible!" "Hatty's not that old," James said, "and maybe it's because she's always by herself—playing with herself—always in the garden." "Oh, you've always been so kind to her!" cried Hattie's aunt, and the words came out of her mouth like a sharp condemnation, "so she'll never grow up! If so, she'll be How? I don't know. She's quite a queer girl now." Hattie's aunt turned back to fiddle with her braided hair in the mirror. "Hatty's going to grow up for sure," James said.Tom admired him for his bravery in the face of his angry mother. "But what will happen to her then?" "She can expect nothing more from me. I have been kind enough to her." "In that case, mother, she'll have to earn her own living, and how she'll do it I don't know. Maybe she'll marry—but outside of this home and this garden, she won't I don’t know, and I’ve never seen anyone.” "After I'm gone, I can't let her dictate in this house." Haidai's aunt didn't turn around, but stared at her son intently from the mirror. "What do you mean, mother?" "You, Hubert, and Edgar are all grown up now, working in your father's company, and able to run your own business. That's fine. But if any of you want to marry Harriet in the future, don't expect I get a penny here. Hubert never liked that girl very much, and I'm sure Edgar did, too, but you have sympathy for her." In the silence that followed, Tom wished that such a brave James could say aloud that he had never thought of marrying Hatty before, but now suddenly it was a very good idea, and he just waited for her to come of age. Marry her right now, and they'll live happily ever after—no matter what his mother's attitude is.But James is not a romantic.He sighed softly: "I never planned to marry Hattie, and it is impossible to have such a plan in the future. But she undoubtedly needs sympathy." "She does deserve sympathy," Hatty's aunt said grimly. "Really, mother, now that she is growing up, she should go out and see the world more, instead of being bored in this house and garden all day. She should meet more people, she should know some people, she should Make some friends." "You know very well that she likes nothing but being alone in the garden." "We can get her out. We have a lot of friends, and she can't just hide from them all the time, like a terrified person. When we throw parties, we can make her want to go: boating on the river, picnics, Cricket, whist, Christmas carols, ice skating . . . " "She doesn't want to grow up, she just wants her garden." "We can make her want more. I'm going to go to her now and talk to her and say when she's all right she has to start a happier life. I'm just saying we all want her to get out and about Go, make some friends." We all?Tom watched the woman's face in the mirror and saw a look of icy displeasure on that face. "May I say it's your wish, mother?" "You're just wasting your energy and your empathy on Hattie." "May I at least say that you have no objection?" "You can say whatever you like to her, and do whatever you like. I don't want to see her. The less I see her, the better." She turned her head so that she could see neither her son in reality nor her son in the mirror.James backed out of the room, and Tom came out with him.James went to a door at the end of the landing, knocked lightly, and entered. Tom waited outside until the time when James' conversation with Hatty was supposed to be over.He heard the rise and fall of James' voice, the tone was very gentle, as if speaking to a sick person or someone who had been sick, but for a long time.So Tom thought that since Hattie could hear James so much, it was unlikely that she was as badly hurt as he had feared. ① A card game similar to bridge.