Chapter 6 Chapter 1 The Arrival of the God Food

Our subject, which began in Mr. Bensington's study, has now unfolded and branched.It points now here, now there, so that our story becomes a history of communication.Continuing to follow the process of the divine food is like following a branching tree; A small feedlot nearby popped up, trickled and expanded, and the shadow of itself and reports of it, and its power, spread throughout the world.It quickly moved beyond the confines of the UK.Soon, in America, throughout the Continent, in Japan, in Australia, and finally throughout the world, the thing was running toward its destined goal.By indirect means, against all resistance, it is always progressing slowly.This is the "juhua" rebellion.Disregarding prejudices, disregarding laws and regulations, disregarding the conservatism rooted in the old order of mankind, the divine food, once it entered the world, moved forward according to its elusive and invincible course.

During these years, the children who took the food grew steadily, and this was the main fact of the time.It is the escape of the divine food that makes history.The children who first took God Food grew up, and soon some other children grew up; and the best intentions in the world could not stop God Food from escaping and re-escaping.With the stubbornness of a living thing, the divine food escapes people's control.Flour treated with such things is almost deliberately pulverized in the dry season to an insensible fineness, which is blown away by the slightest breeze.Now it will be some new insect that wins the momentary fate of the new development, and the sudden misfortune that spreads through vermin like rats.The Berkshire village of Pangborn has spent days dealing with giant ants.Three people were bitten to death.After a panic, a battle, the spreading plague may be extinguished again, but there is always something left in some hidden places of life—a radical change has taken place.And then another catastrophe of great and startling suddenness, the overgrowth of a dreadfully large weed, a menacing thistle that spreads rapidly across the world, or a cockroach that one has to shoot. , or its incomparably large flies infestation.

Strange and desperate struggles were going on in many hidden places.God Food has also produced some heroes in the cause of the "tiny ones". People accept this kind of thing in their lives, deal with it as a temporary expediency, and tell each other that "the basic order of life has not changed." After the initial great scare passed, Carter was eloquent and became a second-class player in politics, remembered as the representative of extreme views. He only slowly earned his way to the center of events. "There is no change in the basic order of things"--that eminent leader of modern thought, Winkels, is well aware--and the speakers of the so-called radical liberalism of these days are quite dissatisfied with their so-called progress. Fundamentally believable or not becomes quite emotional.Their dreams seem to be all about small countries, small languages, small families, each self-sufficient on their own small farms, with a small, tidy look.Be big.It must be "vulgar", and exquisite, delicate, petite, cute, tiny, "perfectly small" became the key words used by those approving comments.

At the same time, quietly, deliberately, as children must, the children of God's Food grow up, gather strength, stature, and enter into a world that has been changed for them. And knowledge, with personality and disposition, grows to their destined height. Now they seemed to be a natural part of the world; all these big, restless things seemed to be a natural part of the world, and one could hardly remember what had been before. Many stories of what these giant boys could do reached people who said "God!"—without the slightest surprise. The popular papers would tell of Cossar's three sons, and how these amazing children could lift cannons, throw iron bars hundreds of yards, and jump two hundred feet high.Legend has it that they were digging a well, deeper than any well or mine ever dug by man, in order to find the treasure hidden within the earth when it began to exist.

Those pulp magazines said these children would level mountains, build bridges across seas, and dig the earth into a hive. "God!" said the little people, "isn't it? What a convenience we're going to get!" After speaking, they went about their own business, as if there had never been such a thing as divine food in the world.In fact, these are only the initial hints and forecasts of the power of the God Food Child.To the Children of the God Eater, this is child's play, the first use of their power without purpose.They don't know their mission.They were children—the slowly growing children of a new race.This great power is growing day by day - it will gain will and purpose as it grows.

Viewed over a shortened transitional period, the years of these changes appear to be nothing more than a simple continuous evolution.Indeed, no one could see the coming of the world's giants, just as no one could see the rise and fall of the Roman Empire until the centuries passed.People living at that time were in the midst of events, and it was difficult to see this process as a simple thing.Even smart people think that God's Food just adds an uncontrollable cause to the world, something that has no system and is not connected. It may indeed cause shocks and troubles, but for the established order and human beings The organization cannot have a greater impact.

What is most astonishing in this period of accumulated stress, at least to an observer, is the irrepressible inertia of the broad masses of the people, their calm obstinacy in all respects, utter obliviousness to the gigantic growth that grows around them. phenomena and the prospect of something greater.Just like many rivers, it is at the edge of the waterfall that it is the most stable, most peaceful, deep and powerful.Thus the most conservative of all these men seemed to quietly occupy a steady predominance in those last days.Reaction began to gain momentum.Talk about the bankruptcy of science, talk about the end of progress, and talk about the arrival of Manchu officials echoed in the footsteps of the God Food Boy.Gone are the old fussy revolutions, with masses of stupid little people chasing some stupid little prince, but the change is not over.The only thing that changes is change itself.The new is coming in its own way, beyond the ordinary comprehension of the world.

It would take a whole history book to give a full account of its coming, but wherever there is a series of events happening in parallel.To describe its arrival in one place, therefore, is to describe something about the whole. It so happened that one of those innumerable seeds went astray and came to a pretty little village in the place of Morning Abery in Kent, from where strange things happened, and from the tragic little incidents that arose , we can try to follow this thread to reveal the direction in which that whole vast fabric has rolled down the loom of time. Venus Abley had of course a vicar, and there were vicars of one kind or another, and of these I disliked the most innovative kind of vicar—a motley, progressive professional reactionary.But the vicar of Morning Abley was one of the least innovative vicars, a most respectable plump, seasoned, conservative little man.We should go back and talk about him first.

He was a good fit for his village, and when Mrs Skinner—you remember her flight—came, quite unsuspected, to this quiet, unsophisticated place with the Food of God at sunset that evening, you had better take the vicar and The village was conceived together, as they always were. At that time, under the setting sun, the village showed its most beautiful appearance.It spreads out along the valley under the overhanging branches of beech trees, a row of thatched or red-tiled cottages with shed porches and rows of roses planted in front of the doors.From the yew tree next to the church down the road to the bridge, the houses became denser and denser.

In the bushes beyond the inn, the vicar's less luxurious house could be seen, with its early Georgian frontage worn away by time.In the lowlands formed by the valley, on the contours of the mountains, the steeple of the church rises merrily.The calm azure and snow-white foam of a meandering mountain stream gleamed in a thick line of reeds, loosestrife, and overhanging aspens along the center of a curved triangle.There was that ripe, cathedral-queer Englishness to the whole scene--that perfection--that seemed to be perfected in the warm sundown hours. The priest also appeared mature, consistently, fundamentally mature, as if he had been a mature baby born in a mature class earlier, a mature, full-fledged child.One can see at a glance, without him telling, that he once went to an old public school covered with ivy, where there are glorious traditions and noble companions, but no chemical laboratory, and from there, he went to To a venerable academy of supremely grown-up Gothic.Few of the books he read were less than a thousand years old; these were chiefly divination and early Methodist beneficial sermons.He is a man of medium build, he looks a little short due to his broad profile, his face has been mature from the beginning, and now it is even more mature.A davidian beard hid his full chin; he wore no watch chain for virtue of decency, and his modest clerical clothes were made by West End tailors.He sat with his hands on his knees, eyes closed, and blessedly admired his village.He was waving his thick hand at it.The theme of the music is singing again: when it is all over, who can ask for it?

【① The West End of London is an area inhabited by nobles and wealthy people. 】 "We're in a good position," he said mildly. "We have mountain protection," he plays. Finally, he said what he meant: "All of this has nothing to do with us." He and his friends were now discussing the contemporary horrors of democracy, secular education, airplanes, automobiles, and the American invasion, and the proliferation of popular literature and the disappearance of any good taste. "All of this has nothing to do with us," he repeated.Just as he said this, the sound of someone's footsteps hit his eardrum, and he rolled and looked at her. Imagine an old woman with a trembling but firm step, a bundle clutched in her long, callused hands, her nose (and therefore her whole face) shrunken with firm determination.You can see the red poppies on her toque bobbing wildly up and down, and the gray dusty elasticated boots under her narrow skirt pointing slowly and invariably now to the east and then to the other.Under her arm, an unfettered, worthless umbrella dangled and slid down.Something to tell the priest that this queer old woman—at least in relation to the village—was the very cause of that "fertile chance," that "unforeseeable," that weakling called "fate." What about the old witch.As for us, we know she's just Mrs Skinner. As she was too burdened to salute, she pretended not to have seen the vicar and his friend at all, and so clattered three yards from them, and went straight down to the village. .The pastor watched her go by in silence, while a remark made sense. This little thing doesn't seem to matter at all.The old woman has been carrying packages since the beginning of time.What's so strange about this? "All of this has nothing to do with us," said the pastor. "We live in an atmosphere of simplicity and permanence, birth, labor, spring planting, autumn harvest. The noise passes us by."He was always great in what he called eternal. "Things change and stars move". He always said, "Human nature--invariance". Such is the case with this pastor.He likes to misuse archaisms in subtle ways. Below, Mrs. Skinner, inelegant but determined, was grotesquely dealing with Wilmedine's fence steps. No one knows what the priest thinks of the giant puffball. No doubt he was one of the first to discover them.They scattered along the path that ran from the head of the village to the neighboring highlands--this was the only way he went on his daily rounds.In total, there were nearly thirty such abnormal bacteria from the first to the last.The priest seemed to examine each one individually, poking each one once or twice with his stick.One, he tried to stretch out his arms to measure it, only to burst open in his Exaian embrace. 【① Yikesien: King Rabati in Greek mythology, who was punished for pushing the fire wheel for his evil deeds.He boasted that he had won the favor of Hela, the wife of Zeus, who was about to give him a cloud in the shape of Hela. 】 He's talked about them to several people, saying they're "incredible"!He told at least seven different people his famous story about the basement floor being pushed open by the fungus growing underneath.He looked up his Sowerby to see if it was a Ly-coper-don, coelafum, or Riganfeum--like all his kind, a Gilbert.After White became famous, he became a disciple of Gilbert White. He loved his theory, saying giganteum was an inappropriate name. It is not known whether he noticed the white spheres growing just in the path the old woman walked, or whether he saw the last of the great fungus growing not twenty yards from the gate of Caddles Cottage. place.Even if he had noticed these, he did not record his observations.His botanical observations are what those lowly men of science call "trained observations"—seeking for one certainty, and ignoring all the rest.Nor did he link the phenomenon to the dramatic growth of Caddles' baby over the past few weeks.Indeed, more than a month ago, on a Sunday afternoon, when Keldos went to see his mother-in-law, he heard Mr. Skinner (later deceased) bragging about how he managed to keep chickens. The sudden growth of the Caddles baby, followed by the puffballs, supposedly opened the vicar's eyes.The first fact above had come to his bosom at baptism—with almost irresistible force. When the cold water of the sacred heritage and the right to the name "Albert Edward Caedles" fell on the child's brow, the little one roared deafeningly. The mother couldn't carry it anymore, and Caddles, staggering but smiling triumphantly at the parents whose infants dwarfed him, carried him to the empty seat next to the family. "I've never seen such a child"!said the pastor. It was the first public appearance of the Caddles child, who began his life on Earth weighing less than seven pounds and would be a source of pride to his parents anyway.It soon became apparent that he was not only a matter of pride, but an honor.Within a month the honor was so glorious that it began to be inappropriate for the Caddles family. The butcher weighed the baby eleven times.He was a man who didn't like to talk, but before long he was even more stunned.The first time he said, "That's a nice guy"; the second time he said, "Whoa!"For the third time, I said, "Oh, my God"!And after that, every time he just sighed, scratched his head, and looked at his scale with unprecedented distrust. Everybody came to see "The Big Boy"--the name was accepted--and most said, "Flying Captain," and nearly all said about him, "Is that so?"When Miss Fletcher came to see it, she said, "Never," and that was quite true. Mrs. Wang Deshu, the tyrant of the village, came the next day after having been weighed three times. She looked at all kinds of phenomena carefully through the glasses, and the child cried out in fright. "This is an unusually big child," she said aloud to the mother. "You should be very careful, Caddles. Of course, a milk-fed child will not grow up like this forever, but we also Do what you can. I'll send some more flannel." Doctor Ben had measured the boy with a measuring tape and entered the figures in a notebook, and old Mr. Driftasok, who was farming in Upper Marton, had brought a traveling artisan a couple of miles round to see him.The craftsman asked the child's age three times, and finally expressed his astonishment.How and why he was surprised, he didn't say, obviously it was the size of the child that surprised him.He also said the child should be sent to a baby exhibit. All day long, as soon as school was over, the little kids kept coming, saying, "Please, Mummy Caddles, can we have a look at your kids? Please, Mummy."Until Mrs. Caddles had to refuse it all. And in the midst of this astonishing scene, only Mrs. Skinner stood smiling on one side, in a slightly hidden place, with her elbows clasped in her long, callused hands, smiling, under her nose. , smiling around her nose, her smile unfathomable. "Even the poor old grandmother was happy," said Mrs. Wang Deshu, "although, I'm sorry, she came back to this village again." Of course, like most babies in other cottages, the alms had been received, but soon the baby was crying and howling, making it clear that the bottle was empty and he was far from full. The doll was a nine-day wonder indeed, but eighteen days later, people were still gleefully talking about his amazing growth.Then, instead of giving way to some new spectacle and retiring, he grew up on the contrary. Mrs. Wang Deshu heard the words of Mrs. Greenfield, her housekeeper, with great surprise. "Caddles is downstairs again. The baby has nothing to eat! Dear Greenfield, that's impossible. The little guy eats like a hippopotamus! I'm sure it can't be true". "I dare say, I hope your kindness will not be abused, my lady," said Mrs. Greenfield. "It's really hard to tell people like them," Mrs. Wang Deshu said. "I really hope, my good Greenfield, you'll see for yourself this afternoon--see and feed him, let's say he's big, and I don't believe he's not getting six pints a day." "It doesn't make sense, my lady," said Mrs. Greenfield. Mrs. Wondersaw's thought of those lower classes--as bad as their superiors, and as a fool for her--was really stinging, and aroused that suspicion that all true aristocrats have. Angry, and the mood of a village chief, her hands couldn't help shaking. Greenfield, however, could find no evidence of misappropriation, and ordered an increase in the daily supply to the Caddles household.Before the end of the first issue, Caddles came to the mansion pitifully and apologetically. "We love them, Mrs. Greenfield, I assure you, ma'am, but he keeps bursting! Cracking, ma'am, there's a clasp that's breaking the windowpane, ma'am, and there's another I'm still hurting here, ma'am." Mrs. Wang Deshu decided to speak to Caddles herself when she heard that the astonishing child had actually torn the beautiful clothes she had donated.Caddles wet his hair and smoothed it with his hands, panting and gripping the brim of his hat as if it were a life buoy, tripped and nearly fell in nervousness on the edge of the rug. Mrs. Wang Deshu likes to frighten Caddles, who is her ideal inferior, liar, faithful, pathetic, industrious, and almost unimaginably irresponsible.She told him that if the child continues like this, it is a serious problem. [① This is the original text. 】 "It's his appetite, ma'am," said Caddles, raising his voice. "Keep him, ma'am, we can't do it," said Caddles, "he's lying there, ma'am, kicking and kicking and crying and howling, it's unbearable, we can't bear it, ma'am. Even if we can stand it—neighbors won't." Mrs. Wang Deshu asked the opinion of the parish doctor. "I want to know," Mrs. Wang Deshu said, "is it normal for that child to drink so much milk?" "A child of that age," said the Rector, "is a pint and a half to two pints in twenty-four hours. I don't see how I can ask you for more. If you give it, it's yours." Generosity. Of course, we could try a normal ration for a few days, but, I must admit, the child seems to be physically a little different. A perversion, perhaps. A general hypertrophy." "It's not fair to the rest of the children in the parish," Mrs. Wang Deshu said. "I'm sure if this goes on, there will be complaints." "I don't see how anyone can expect to get more than a definitive ration. We'll have to insist on doing the same with him, and if he doesn't, go to the infirmary as a case." "I guess," Mrs. Wang Deshu said thoughtfully, "you don't find anything abnormal—not at all—except size and appetite"? "No. I haven't found it. However, if it goes on like this, there must be a serious moral and intellectual deficiency. According to the laws of Max Noldau, it can be predicted. He is a famous philosopher of the most gifted, Mrs. Wang Deshu. He found that abnormality was—abnormality, and it was an extremely valuable discovery to keep in mind. I found it to be of great help to me in practice. When I encountered something abnormal, I immediately said , 'This is abnormal'." The doctor's eyes are deep, his voice is lowered, and his attitude is very similar to having a heart-to-heart talk.He raised a hand stiffly and said: "I will deal with him in this spirit". "Tut, tut!" said the vicar to his breakfast--the morning after Mrs Skinner's arrival. "Tut, tsk! What"?He swung his glasses at the newspaper with disapproval. "Giant Bee! What has become of the world? Written by an American reporter, it must be! Sensational, Went to his!Gooseberries are more to my liking." "Nonsense!" The pastor drank his coffee in one gulp, his eyes still fixed on the newspaper, and smacked his lips suspiciously. "Bah!" the pastor dismissed the thought. However, with more news the next day, things started to clear up. However, it is not immediately clear. When he went for a walk that day, he was still laughing at the absurd stories the papers made him believe.Wasps - killed a dog, really!As he passed a stubble puffball, he happened to notice that the grass was growing very luxuriantly nearby, but he did not connect this with what amused him. "If there was such a thing, we would have heard a little," he said. "Wittsterburg is only twenty miles from here." Ahead, he found another puffball, the second crop, growing out of unusually thick grass like a roc bird's egg. Like lightning, it dawned on him. That morning, he did not go the usual way.From the second fence step he turned the corner and walked towards Caddles' hut. "Where is the child"?he asks. When I saw the child: "God!" While marveling, he walked towards the village, just in time for the doctor to come out of the village in a hurry.He grabbed the doctor's arm and asked, "What's going on? Have you read the newspaper lately?" The doctor said I saw it. "What's the matter with that? What's the matter with that stuff, wasps, puffballs, and kids, eh? How did they get so big? Never imagined. Kent is the same! What if Well in America—” "It's a little hard to say what it is," replied the doctor, "as far as I know the symptoms—" "What is it?" "It's hypertrophy—general hypertrophy." "Dystrophic hypertrophy?" "Yes, systemic—affecting all body tissues—all organs. I think so, and we're talking privately, and I'm very close to being sure it's the disease. But one has to be cautious about jumping to conclusions." "Ah!" The pastor was relieved to see the doctor so sure. "However, why did it suddenly erupt and become so common?" "Well, it's the same," replied the doctor, "it's hard to say." "Marsha, here, clearly, is a situation that is spreading." "Yes," said the doctor, "yes, I think so too. Anyway, very much like an epidemic. Possibly an epidemic of hypertrophy." "Epidemic!" said the priest. "You mean it's contagious, don't you?" The doctor smiled slightly and rubbed his hands together. "Well, I can't tell," he replied. "But—!" exclaimed the pastor, his eyes wide open. "If it's contagious—then—we'll catch it." He took a big step and turned around. "Where I came from," he cried, "should I—? I'll go home at once, bathe, and fumigate my clothes with smoke." The doctor looked at his back for a while, then turned around and walked towards his home. On the way, he thought that there was a case who had been in the village for a month, but no one had been recruited.After hesitating for a while, he made up his mind to be as brave as a doctor should be, to take risks like a man. Indeed, this second thought helped him.For him, growth was the last thing that could happen.He probably ate--and the priest probably ate--truckloads of Hercules' dreads, because they've been grown.These two gentlemen will never grow again. About a day after this conversation, after the experimental vivarium had burned down, Winkles came to Redwood to show him an insulting letter. This is an anonymous letter. As a writer, I should respect the secrets of the characters in the book. "You are just greedy for your own work," the letter read, "but trying to boast of your own by writing to the Times. You, and your 'God Food'! Let me enlighten you! This ridiculously named food of yours has only a very casual connection to those giant bees and rats, and the obvious fact is that it's nothing more than an epidemic dystrophy - contagious dystrophy - what you claim Its control is just like your control of the solar system. This phenomenon is as old as a mountain. There was abnormal hypertrophy in the ancient Anek family. It is beyond your reach, in Qixing Abley had a baby—” "Written with trembling, obviously an old gentleman," Redwood said. "But it's queer, another kid—" He read a few more lines, and suddenly had an idea. "For God's sake!" he said, "it's our missing Mrs. Skinner!" The next afternoon, he suddenly descended upon her. She was busy pulling onions in the small vegetable garden in front of her daughter's cottage when she saw her go through the garden gate.She stood for a moment "distraught," as the country people say.Then she crossed her arms and held the small handful of onions under her left arm defensively, waiting for him to approach. She opened and closed her mouth a few times, and grunted a few times with her remaining teeth.There was a sudden salute, as quick as the flash of an arc lamp. "I thought I'd find you," Redwood said. "I think you will, sir," she said, not pleased. "Where's Skinner?" "Never, sir, not one, and not since I came here, sir." "Don't know how he is?" "He didn't write, no, sir," she said, taking a step to the left, trying to block Redwood's way to the barn. "Nobody knows what happened to him," Redwood said. "I'm sure he knows it himself," said Mrs Skinner. "He doesn't talk," "He's always been very self-absorbed, leaving everyone close to him alone, that's what Skinner is. He's brilliant, though," said Mrs. Skinner. "Where's the kid?" Redwood asked suddenly. She said she didn't hear clearly. "It's the kid I've heard about, the kid you feed our stuff—the two-ton kid." Mrs Skinner's hand trembled, and the onion dropped to the floor. "Really, sir," she protested, "I don't know what sir is talking about. My daughter, sir, is Mrs. Caddles, and she has a child, sir."She saluted excitedly, then turned her nose to the side again, and put on an air of innocent inquiry. "You'd better let me see the baby, Mrs Skinner," said Redwood. Mrs Skinner looked at him from behind her nose with one eye as she led him to the barn. "Certainly, sir, there might be a little bit of it, in a tin can I gave to his papa, from the feedlot, maybe there might be a little bit of it, as I happen to, let's just say, I took it out without any hassle. I packed my luggage in a hurry, and—” "Mmm!" said Redwood, teasing the child for a while, "Mmm!" He said to Mrs. Caddles that the boy was a good boy.In her opinion, this was the right word - he would stop entertaining her from now on.After a while, she left the barn for a small matter. "Now that you've started feeding, you've got to feed, see," he said to Mrs. Skinner. He turned sharply to face her. "Don't mess around this time," he said. "Scattering all over the place? Sir?" "Oh, you understand." She acknowledged with a convulsive gesture. "Have you not told the people here? The parents of the child, the squire, and the people in the big house, the doctor, no one has told?" Mrs. Skinner shook her head. "If I were, I wouldn't tell," Redwood said. He walked to the barn door and looked around. From the door of the barn, between the hut and the main road, there was a five-stick barrier, and inside it was a disused pigsty.Beyond that was a tall red brick wall, covered with ivy, sweet lollipop, and a sedum plant, topped with broken glass. On the other side of the wall, amidst the yellow and green branches and leaves, a sunlit bulletin board was exposed, protruding from the heavy hue of the first fallen leaves, proclaiming: "Those who trespass in the woods will be severely punished according to the law."A shadow in a gap in the hedge contrasted sharply with the barbed wire. "Well," said Redwood; and then, in a deeper tone, "Well!" The hooves of the horses beat, the wheels rattled, and Mrs. Wang Deshu's gray horse came into view.As the carriage approached, he noticed the faces of the coachman and footman.The coachman was a splendid specimen, plump and ruddy, driving with sacramental dignity.Others might have doubts about their own title and position, but he was sure of it anyway—he drove the lady's carriage.The servant folded his arms and sat next to him, with an air of confidence on his face.Then the great lady appeared, wearing a rather indecent hat and cloak.Peek out from behind the glasses.The two young ladies also craned their necks to look around. The priest was passing across the road, hastily removing his hat from his Davidic brow, but no one paid any attention. After the carriage left, Redwood stood at the door with his hands behind his back for a long time.He looked at the green and gray plateau, at the cloudy sky, at the wall with broken glass.He turned toward the shady interior, and among the mottled and blurred colors, looked at the giant boy in front of the Rembrandtian dark background, sitting naked except for the tightly wrapped flannel, on a large bale of grass, Playing with his toes. "I'm starting to understand what we've done," he said. He was brooding, little Caddles, his own children, and some of Cossar's children mingled together in his mind. He Wu smiled. "My God!" he said from a thought of his own. He woke up and said to Mrs. Skinner: "Anyway, stop feeding him and he'll suffer. We can at least prevent that. From now on, I'll send you a can every six months. It's good He is enough." Mrs. Skinner muttered, as if to say, "Do as you say, sir," and, "Maybe I made a mistake packing. I thought it wouldn't hurt to give him something to eat."In this way, she used that fluttering aspen tree gesture to show that she understood. So, the child is growing up all the way.Still growing. "Really!" said Mrs. Wondersaw. "He's eating up the whole place. If there's another Caddles thing--" Yet even in a place as isolated as Venus Abley, the theory of hypertrophy—contagious or not—could not hold up amidst the growing clamor of God's Food. how long.很快，斯金纳太太便备受种种说法的折磨——这些说法使她只能用还没有掉的那颗牙发出一点听不出来的咕哝声——这些说法探查着她，梳篦着她，将她暴露在光天化日之下——直到最后，她只好依仗没法安慰的寡妇所有的尊严，来抵挡集中于她一身的普遍的责备。她抬起眼睛——这眼睛她极力使之泪汪汪的——看着怒冲冲的大宅子里的夫人，一边从手上擦去肥皂沫。 “夫人，您忘了我现在的处境。” 她顺着这个警告的调子，带有一点公然违抗的意味：—— “我现在白天黑夜想的只是他。” 她压紧嘴唇，声音率直而颤抖：“被吃掉了，夫人。”在这个论点上站稳了脚跟，她重复被夫人拒绝过的答复。“我再想不出给了这孩子什么，夫人，我跟别人一样。 夫人将她的锋芒转向一个更有希望的目标，当然，顺便也大骂了凯多尔斯一顿。使者们带着一肚子外交官式的威胁，进入了本辛顿和雷德伍德旋涡般的生活之中。他们以教区谘议的身份出现，又倔，又笨，留声机一样重复着事先准备好的声明。“我们认为，您，本辛顿先生，要对本教区所蒙受之损害负责。我们认为，责任在您。” 一群律师，有着蛇一般的风度——他们把自己叫作邦赫斯特、布朗、弗赖卜、柯德灵、布朗、泰德和斯诺克森，他们的长相全一个样，都是些小小的、赤褐色的、神态狡猾的尖鼻子绅士们——隐隐约约提到了损失，还有个滑头的家伙，是夫人的代理人，一天，忽然找上雷德伍德，说：“哎，先生，您说该怎么办呢？” 对此，雷德伍德回答说，如果他们再拿这种事来打扰他和本辛顿的话，他就准备停止那孩子的神食供应。 “现在我是免费供应的，”他说，“一旦你们不能喂孩子这种东西，他就会在死掉之前把你们的村子变成废墟。汪德淑夫人不能总是被人称作教区的博施夫人或是下凡天女，而不偶尔承担一点责任，知道吧。” “祸已酿成，”汪德淑夫人听他们报告了——当然经过删节——雷德伍德的话以后，下了这么个结论。 “祸已酿成”，牧师照着说。 其实，这个祸不过才刚刚开始咧。