a first family of tasajara- 第3部分

fixed　in　this　comfortable　attitude；　she　was　constrained　to　follow

his　movements　with　her　eyes　alone；　and　often　at　an　uncomfortable

angle。　　It　was　evident　that　she　offered　the　final　but　charming

illustration　of　the　enfeebling　listlessness　of　Sidon。



〃So　those　loafers　have　gone　at　last；〃　she　said；　meditatively。

〃They'll　take　root　here　some　day；　pop。　　The　idea　of　three　strong

men　like　that　lazing　round　for　two　mortal　hours　doin'　nothin'。

Well！〃　　As　if　to　emphasize　her　disgust　she　threw　her　whole　weight

upon　the　counter　by　swinging　her　feet　from　the　floor　to　touch　the

shelves　behind　her。



Mr。　Harkutt　only　replied　by　a　slight　grunt　as　he　continued　to　screw

on　the　shutters。



〃Want　me　to　help　you；　dad？〃　she　said；　without　moving。



Mr。　Harkutt　muttered　something　unintelligible；　which；　however；

seemed　to　imply　a　negative；　and　her　attention　here　feebly　wandered

to　the　roll　of　paper；　and　she　began　slowly　and　lazily　to　read　it

aloud。



〃'For　value　received；　I　hereby　sell；　assign；　and　transfer　to　Daniel

D。　Harkutt　all　my　right；　titles　and　interest　in；　and　to　the

undivided　half　of；　Quarter　Section　4；　Range　5；　Tasajara　Township'

humhum；〃　she　murmured；　running　her　eyes　to　the　bottom　of　the

page。　　〃Why；　Lord！　　It's　that　'Lige　Curtis！〃　she　laughed。　　〃The

idea　of　HIM　having　property！　　Why；　dad；　you　ain't　been　THAT　silly！〃



〃Put　down　that　paper；　miss；〃　he　said；　aggrievedly；　〃bring　the

candle　here；　and　help　me　to　find　one　of　these　infernal　screws

that's　dropped。〃



The　girl　indolently　disengaged　herself　from　the　counter　and　Elijah

Curtis's　transfer；　and　brought　the　candle　to　her　father。　　The　screw

was　presently　found　and　the　last　fastening　secured。　　〃Supper

gettin'　cold；　dad；〃　she　said；　with　a　slight　yawn。　　Her　father

sympathetically　responded　by　stretching　himself　from　his　stooping

position；　and　the　two　passed　through　the　private　door　into　inner

domesticity；　leaving　the　already　forgotten　paper　lying　with　other

articles　of　barter　on　the　counter。





CHAPTER　II。





With　the　closing　of　the　little　door　behind　them　they　seemed　to　have

shut　out　the　turmoil　and　vibration　of　the　storm。　　The　reason　became

apparent　when；　after　a　few　paces；　they　descended　half　a　dozen　steps

to　a　lower　landing。　　This　disclosed　the　fact　that　the　dwelling　part

of　the　Sidon　General　Store　was　quite　below　the　level　of　the　shop

and　the　road；　and　on　the　slope　of　the　solitary　undulation　of　the

Tasajara　plain；a　little　ravine　that　fell　away　to　a　brawling

stream　below。　　The　only　arboreous　growth　of　Tasajara　clothed　its

banks　in　the　shape　of　willows　and　alders　that　set　compactly　around

the　quaint；　irregular　dwelling　which　straggled　down　the　ravine　and

looked　upon　a　slope　of　bracken　and　foliage　on　either　side。　　The

transition　from　the　black；　treeless；　storm…swept　plain　to　this

sheltered　declivity　was　striking　and　suggestive。　　From　the　opposite

bank　one　might　fancy　that　the　youthful　and　original　dwelling　had

ambitiously　mounted　the　crest；　but；　appalled　at　the　dreary　prospect

beyond；　had　gone　no　further；　while　from　the　road　it　seemed　as　if

the　fastidious　proprietor　had　tried　to　draw　a　line　between　the

vulgar　trading…post；　with　which　he　was　obliged　to　face　the　coarser

civilization　of　the　place；　and　the　privacy　of　his　domestic　life。

The　real　fact；　however；　was　that　the　ravine　furnished　wood　and

water；　and　as　Nature　also　provided　one　wall　of　the　house；as　in

the　well…known　example　of　aboriginal　cave　dwellings；its　peculiar

construction　commended　itself　to　Sidon　on　the　ground　of　involving

little　labor。



Howbeit；　from　the　two　open　windows　of　the　sitting…room　which　they

had　entered　only　the　faint　pattering　of　dripping　boughs　and　a

slight　murmur　from　the　swollen　brook　indicated　the　storm　that　shook

the　upper　plain；　and　the　cool　breath　of　laurel；　syringa；　and　alder

was　wafted　through　the　neat　apartment。　　Passing　through　that

pleasant　rural　atmosphere　they　entered　the　kitchen；　a　much　larger

room；　which　appeared　to　serve　occasionally　as　a　dining…room；　and

where　supper　was　already　laid　out。　　A　stout；　comfortable…looking

womanwho　had；　however；　a　singularly　permanent　expression　of

pained　sympathy　upon　her　facewelcomed　them　in　tones　of　gentle

commiseration。



〃Ah；　there　you　be；　you　two！　　Now　sit　ye　right　down；　dears；　DO。　　You

must　be　tired　out；　and　you；　Phemie；　love；　draw　up　by　your　poor

father。　　Therethat's　right。　　You'll　be　better　soon。〃



There　was　certainly　no　visible　sign　of　suffering　or　exhaustion　on

the　part　of　either　father　or　daughter；　nor　the　slightest　apparent

earthly　reason　why　they　should　be　expected　to　exhibit　any。　　But；

as　already　intimated；　it　was　part　of　Mrs。　Harkutt's　generous

idiosyncrasy　to　look　upon　all　humanity　as　suffering　and　toiling；　to

be　petted；　humored；　condoled　with；　and　fed。　　It　had；　in　the　course

of　years；　imparted　a　singularly　caressing　sadness　to　her　voice；　and

given　her　the　habit　of　ending　her　sentences　with　a　melancholy　cooing

and　an　unintelligible　murmur　of　agreement。　　It　was　undoubtedly

sincere　and　sympathetic；　but　at　times　inappropriate　and　distressing。

It　had　lost　her　the　friendship　of　the　one　humorist　of　Tasajara；

whose　best　jokes　she　had　received　with　such　heartfelt　commiseration

and　such　pained　appreciation　of　the　evident　labor　involved　as　to

reduce　him　to　silence。



Accustomed　as　Mr。　Harkutt　was　to　his　wife's　peculiarity；　he　was　not

above　assuming　a　certain　slightly　fatigued　attitude　befitting　it。

〃Yes；〃　he　said；　with　a　vague　sigh；　〃where's　Clemmie？〃



〃Lyin'　down　since　dinner；　she　reckoned　she　wouldn't　get　up　to

supper；〃　she　returned　soothingly。　　〃Phemie's　goin'　to　take　her　up

some　sass　and　tea。　　The　poor　dear　child　wants　a　change。〃



〃She　wants　to　go　to　'Frisco；　and　so　do　I；　pop；〃　said　Phemie；

leaning　her　elbow　half　over　her　father's　plate。　　〃Come；　pop；　say

do；just　for　a　week。〃



〃Only　for　a　week；〃　murmured　the　commiserating　Mrs。　Harkutt。



〃Perhaps；〃　responded　Harkutt；　with　gloomy　sarcasm；　〃ye　wouldn't

mind　tellin'　me　how　you're　goin'　to　get　there；　and　where　the

money's　comin'　from　to　take　you？　　There's　no　teamin'　over　Tasajara

till　the　rain　stops；　and　no　money　comin'　in　till　the　ranchmen　can

move　their　stuff。　　There　ain't　a　hundred　dollars　in　all　Tasajara；

at　least　there　ain't　been　the　first　red　cent　of　it　paid　across　my

counter　for　a　fortnit！　　Perhaps　if　you　do　go　you　wouldn't　mind

takin'　me　and　the　store　along　with　ye；　and　leavin'　us　there。〃



〃Yes；　dear；〃　said　Mrs。　Harkutt；　with　sympathetic　but　shameless

tergiversation。　　〃Don't　bother　your　poor　father；　Phemie；　love；

don't　you　see　he's　just　tired　out？　　And　you're　not　eatin'　anything；

dad。〃



As　Mr。　Harkutt　was　uneasily　conscious　that　he　had　been　eating

heartily　in　spite　of　his　financial　difficulties；　he　turned　the

subject　abruptly。　　〃Where's　John　Milton？〃



Mrs。　Harkutt　shaded　her　eyes　with　her　hand；　and　gazed　meditatively

on　the　floor　before　the　fire　and　in　the　chimney　corner　for　her　only

son；　baptized　under　that　historic　title。　　〃He　was　here　a　minit

ago；〃　she　said　doubtfully。　　〃I　really　can't　think　where　he's　gone。

But；〃　assuringly；　〃it　ain't　far。〃



〃He's　skipped　with　one　o'　those　story…books　he's　borrowed；〃　said

Phemie。　　〃He's　always　doin'　it。　　Like　as　not　he's　reading　with　a

candle　in　the　wood…shed。　　We'll　all　be　burnt　up　some　night。〃



〃But　he's　got　through　his　chores；〃　interposed　Mrs。　Harkutt

deprecatingly。



〃Yes；〃　continued　Harkutt；　aggrievedly；　〃but　instead　of　goin'　to

bed；　or　addin'　up　bills；　or　takin'　count　o'　stock；　or　even　doin'

sums　or　suthin'　useful；　he's　ruinin'　his　eyes　and　wastin'　his　time

over　trash。〃　　He　rose　and　walked　slowly　into　the　sitting…room；

followed　by　his　daughter　and　a　murmur　of　commiseration　from　his

wife。　　But　Mrs。　Harkutt's　ministration　for　the　present　did　not　pass

beyond　her　domain；　the　kitchen。



〃I　reckon　ye　ain't　expectin'　anybody　tonight；　Phemie？〃　said　Mr。

Harkutt；　sinking　into　a　chair；　and　placing　his　slippered　feet

against　the　wall。



〃No；〃　said　Phemie；　〃unless　something　possesses　that　sappy　little

Parmlee　to　make　one　of　his　visitations。　　John　Milton　says　that　out

on　the　road　it　blows　so　you　can't　stand　up。　　It's　just　like　that

idiot　Parmlee　to　be　blown　in　here；　and　not　have　strength　of　mind

enough　to　get　away　again。〃



Mr。　Harkutt　smiled。　　It　was　that　arch　yet　approving；　severe　yet

satisfied　smile　with　which　the　deceived　male　parent　usually

receives　any　depreciation　of　the　ordinary　young　man　by　his

daughters。　　Euphemia　was　no　giddy　thing　to　be　carried　away　by　young

men's　attentions；not　she！　　Sitting　back　comfortably　in　his

rocking…chair；　he　said；　〃Play　something。〃



The　young　girl　went　to　the　closet　and　took　from　the　top　shelf　an

excessively　ornamented　accordion；the　opulent　gift　of　a　reckless

admirer。　　It　was　so　inordinately　decorated；　so　gorgeous　in　the

blaze　of　papier　mache；　mother…of…pearl；　and　tortoise…shell　on　keys

and　keyboard；　and　so　ostentatiously　radiant　in　the　pink　silk　of　its

bellows　that　it　seemed　to　overawe　the　plainly　furnished　room　with

its　splendors。　　〃You　ought　to　keep　it　on　the　table　in　a　glass　vase；

Phemie；〃　said　her　father　admiringly。



〃And　have　HIM　think　I　worshiped　it！　　Not　me；　indeed！　　He's　conceited

enough　already；〃　she　returned；　saucily。



Mr。　Harkutt　again　smiled　his　approbation；　then　deliberately　closed

his　eyes　and　threw　his　head　back　in　comfortable　anticipation　of　the

coming　strains。



It　is　to　be　regretted　that　in　brilliancy；　finish；　and　even

cheerfulness　of　quality　they　were　not　up　to　the　suggestions　of　the

keys　and　keyboard。　　The　most　discreet　and　cautious　effort　on　the

part　of　the　young　performer　seemed　only　to　produce　startlingly

unexpected；　but　instantly　suppressed　complaints　from　the

instrument；　accompanied　by　impatient　interjections　of　〃No；　no；〃

from　the　girl　herself。　　Nevertheless；　with　her　pretty　eyebrows

knitted　in　some　charming　distress　of　memory；　her　little　mouth　half

open　between　an　a