Chapter 2 Chapter One

Everyone around me has urged me to write this story, from Lord Nasby to Emily, our former housekeeper, who said: "Oh, miss, you could write a touching book, just Like a picture." I admit that I am qualified for this job.I was involved in it from the beginning, and I was deeply involved, and I was shrouded in the shadow of death from the beginning to the end.Happily, some of the gaps which cannot be filled so far as I know can be filled by Sir Eustace Peterler's diary.He asked me to use his diary. This is how the story begins.Anne Beddingfeld begins to relate her adventures. I've always craved adventure.You know, my life is too poor and monotonous.My father, Professor Beddingfield, is one of the last remaining authorities on hominids.He's a real genius, everyone admits he's a genius.For him in life.The most inconvenient thing is that his mind is active in the Paleolithic age, while his body is in the modern world.Dad didn't care about modern people, or even Neolithic people, and he saw them only as cattle herders, and until he got to the late Paleolithic, he didn't care at all, let alone modern people.

Unfortunately, one cannot completely disregard modern man.He had to deal more or less with butchers, bakers, milkmen, and greengrocers.Dad was stuck in the past, and Mom died when I was a baby, so the practical burden of life fell on me even more.Honestly, I hate Paleolithic man, whether he's early, middle or late.Although I typed and proofread most of Baba's "Neanderthals and Their Ancestors," the Neanderthals themselves made me queasy.I have often thought that it is a good thing that they have disappeared in ancient times. I don't know if Dad ever wondered how I felt about his subjects, maybe not.In any case, he was not interested in the subject, and he was never interested in other people's opinions.I think that's one of the great things about him.Likewise, his life was fairly unearthly.He eats what you give him, and he's not fussy at all.It made him look a little distressed when the problem of paying the bills came up.We seem to be short of money all the time.His reputation doesn't bring us cash.Though he was a member of every important society, and received a flood of letters, the general public was little aware of his existence, and his long-studied writings, though they added to the knowledge of mankind, were of little interest to the general public. The masses are unattractive.He was in the public eye only occasionally, when he gave a paper to a group on the new generation of African apes.The new generation of African orangutans has some characteristics more similar to the new generation of humans than the adult generation.Da seems to show that our ancestors were more ape-like than we are and that the ancestors of the African apes were also higher than the modern apes. In other words, the apes are degenerate humans. A corporate newspaper in search of exciting news, the Daily Gazette, immediately published the headlines.The headline read: "Humans Are Not Descendants Of Apes, But Are Apes Descendants Of Man? Famous Professor Says African Orangutans Are Degenerate Humans." Shortly thereafter, a reporter came to visit Baba, trying to convince him as best he could. Dad authored a series of popular articles on this theory.Rarely have I seen Dad so angry that he threw reporters out the door.I feel very sad privately, because we were very short of money at that time.In fact, not only was I sad, but for a while I was thinking about running out the door to chase the reporter back, to tell him that Dad had changed his mind and that he was going to write the articles.I could easily have written those articles myself, and there was no way Papa knew I wrote them for him, nor could the readers of the Daily Gazette know.However, I didn't do it because it was too risky.I just put on my best hat and headed sadly into the village to meet the grocer who was mad at us.

The reporter from the Daily Gazette was the only young man who ever visited our house.I used to envy our little housekeeper, Emily, for going out whenever her burly navigator fiancé invited her.At other times she sometimes went out with the greengrocer's son or the pharmacist's assistant, in order, as she said, to have her hand held.I thought sadly, I have no one to hold my hand.All of Dad's friends were old professors, and they generally had long beards.Professor Peterson once hugged me affectionately, said I had a "small waist", and then wanted to kiss me.That description alone is enough to show how corny he is.When I was a baby, no one used such words to praise women.

I longed for adventure, for love and romance, and it seemed I was doomed to a life of humdrumness.There was a library in the village full of tattered novels, and I borrowed the tattered novels to enjoy my adventures and my loves, and then dreamed of the silent and strong Rhodesians who could knock their opponents down with a single blow strong man.No one in Lin looked like he could "knock his opponent to the ground with one punch" even with a few punches. There is also a movie theater in the village, which shows an episode of "Pamela" every week.Pamela was a great young woman who feared nothing and no earth.She can jump out of a plane in the sky without changing her face, or explore the ocean or climb a skyscraper, or deal in the underworld.She's not really that smart, the boss of the underworld caught her once, but since he didn't want her to die cheaply and tried to kill her every time with gas poisoning or some other fancy way, the hero At the start of each week's album, it is always possible to save the day.I often get dizzy and go home to find a note from the gas company warning us that if we don't pay our debts in full, our gas supply will be cut off!

There may be many people in the world who have never heard that a pair of ancient human skulls were unearthed in a mine in northern Rhodesia.One morning I found Dad almost passed out with excitement, and he couldn't wait to tell me the whole incident. "Annie, you know what? There are some resemblances to the Javan skull, but only superficially. No, what we've found now is what I've often mentioned—the skull pattern of the Neanderthal ancestors. You admit that the Gibraltar skull is The most primitive Neanderthals ever found? Why? The cradle of the Neanderthal race was in Africa. They moved to Europe—”

"Not salted herring and marmalade, Dad," I said hurriedly, squeezing my dad's absent-minded hand. "Oh, what are you talking about?" He suddenly choked violently, caused by a big mouthful of salted herring bones. "But we must begin at once," said he, when he had risen from breakfast; "there is no time to waste, we must go there—there must be a thousand things to be found in that vicinity. I shall be glad Know, if those stone tools are typical of the late Paleolithic - I should say there should be the remains of primitive cows, not wooly rhinos. By the way, there will be a large number of horses starting soon, and we must rush ahead of them .Annie, how would you like to write to Cook today?"

"Where's the money? Dad" I hinted carefully. He looked at me reproachfully. "Boy, your perception always disappoints me. We shouldn't be so realistic. "Dear Anne, do you have cash on hand?" "My boy, I can't be bothered about such vulgar money matters. The bank—I was informed yesterday by the manager of the bank that I have twenty-seven pounds in deposit." "That's your overdraft, I suppose." "Ah, yes! Write to my publisher." I acquiesce, but suspect, that Papa's book has brought him more credit than money.I love the idea of ​​going to Rhodesia. "Silent and strong man!" I said to myself passionately.Then I suddenly found that there was something wrong with Dad's appearance. "

"You're wearing the wrong boot, Daddy," I said. "Take off the brown one and put on the black one, and don't forget your scarf, it's cold." Within minutes, Dad had the correct boots on, a scarf on, and was strutting out. That evening, he came back very late, and I was shocked to see that his scarf and coat were gone. "I took them off when I went into the cave, it was so dirty." I nodded feelingly, remembering the one time my father came home covered in Ice Age clay from head to toe. The main reason we stayed at Little Hampshire was the proximity to the neighboring Hampshire Cave, a cave rich in stone age artifacts.There was a small museum in the village, and the curator and Dad spent most of their time digging in the cave, exhuming the remains of some rhinos and cave bears.

Dad had been coughing badly that night.The next day I found out he had a fever and took him to the doctor. Poor dad.He had no chance of recovery, he had severe encephalitis.Four days later, Dad passed away.