pgw.piccadillyjim-第1节

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　A　RED…HAIRED　GIRL
　
　THE　residence　of　Mr。　Peter　Pett；　the　well…known　financier；　on　Riverside　Drive　is　one　of　the　leading　eyesores　of　that　breezy　and　expensive　boulevard。　As　you　pass　by　in　your　limousine；　or　while　enjoying　ten　cents　worth　of　fresh　air　on　top　of　a　green　omnibus；　it　jumps　out　and　bites　at　you。　Architects；　confronted　with　it；　reel　and　throw　up　their　hands　defensively；　and　even　the　lay　observer　has　a　sense　of　shock。　The　place　resembles　in　almost　equal　proportions　a　cathedral；　a　suburban　villa；　a　hotel　and　a　Chinese　pagoda。　Many　of　its　windows　are　of　stained　glass；　and　above　the　porch　stand　two　terra…cotta　lions；　considerably　more　repulsive　even　than　the　placent　animals　which　guard　New　York's　Public　Library。　It　is　a　house　which　is　impossible　to　overlook：　and　it　was　probably　for　this　reason　that　Mrs。　Pett　insisted　on　her　husband　buying　it；　for　she　was　a　woman　who　liked　to　be　noticed。
　Through　the　rich　interior　of　this　mansion　Mr。　Pett；　its　nominal　proprietor；　was　wandering　like　a　lost　spirit。　The　hour　was　about　ten　of　a　fine　Sunday　morning；　but　the　Sabbath　calm　which　was　upon　the　house　had　not　municated　itself　to　him。　There　was　a　look　of　exasperation　on　his　usually　patient　face；　and　a　muttered　oath；　picked　up　no　doubt　on　the　godless　Stock　Exchange；　escaped　his　lips。
　〃Darn　it！〃
　He　was　afflicted　by　a　sense　of　the　pathos　of　his　position。　It　was　not　as　if　he　demanded　much　from　life。　He　asked　but　little　here　below。　At　that　moment　all　that　he　wanted　was　a　quiet　spot　where　he　might　read　his　Sunday　paper　in　solitary　peace；　and　he　could　not　find　one。　Intruders　lurked　behind　every　door。　The　place　was　congested。
　This　sort　of　thing　had　been　growing　worse　and　worse　ever　since　his　marriage　two　years　previously。　There　was　a　strong　literary　virus　in　Mrs。　Pett's　system。　She　not　only　wrote　voluminously　herselfthe　name　Nesta　Ford　Pett　is　familiar　to　all　lovers　of　sensational　fictionbut　aimed　at　maintaining　a　salon。　Starting；　in　pursuance　of　this　aim；　with　a　single　specimen；her　nephew；　Willie　Partridge；　who　was　working　on　a　new　explosive　which　would　eventually　revolutionise　warshe　had　gradually　added　to　her　collections；　until　now　she　gave　shelter　beneath　her　terra…cotta　roof　to　no　fewer　than　six　young　and　unrecognised　geniuses。　Six　brilliant　youths；　mostly　novelists　who　had　not　yet　started　and　poets　who　were　about　to　begin；　cluttered　up　Mr。　Pett's　rooms　on　this　fair　June　morning；　while　he；　clutching　his　Sunday　paper；　wandered　about；　finding；　like　the　dove　in　Genesis；　no　rest。　It　was　at　such　times　that　he　was　almost　inclined　to　envy　his　wife's　first　husband；　a　business　friend　of　his　named　Elmer　Ford；　who　had　perished　suddenly　of　an　apoplectic　seizure：　and　the　pity　which　he　generally　felt　for　the　deceased　tended　to　shift　its　focus。
　Marriage　had　certainly　plicated　life　for　Mr。　Pett；　as　it　frequently　does　for　the　man　who　waits　fifty　years　before　trying　it。　In　addition　to　the　geniuses；　Mrs。　Pett　had　brought　with　her　to　her　new　home　her　only　son；　Ogden；　a　fourteen…year…old　boy　of　a　singularly　unloveable　type。　Years　of　grown…up　society　and　the　absence　of　anything　approaching　discipline　had　given　him　a　precocity　on　which　the　earnest　efforts　of　a　series　of　private　tutors　had　expended　themselves　in　vain。　They　came；　full　of　optimism　and　self…confidence；　to　retire　after　a　brief　interval；　shattered　by　the　boy's　stodgy　resistance　to　education　in　any　form　or　shape。　To　Mr。　Pett；　never　at　his　ease　with　boys；　Ogden　Ford　was　a　constant　irritant。　He　disliked　his　stepson's　personality；　and　he　more　than　suspected　him　of　stealing　his　cigarettes。　It　was　an　additional　annoyance　that　he　was　fully　aware　of　the　impossibility　of　ever　catching　him　at　it。
　Mr。　Pett　resumed　his　journey。　He　had　interrupted　it　for　a　moment　to　listen　at　the　door　of　the　morning…room；　but；　a　remark　in　a　high　tenor　voice　about　the　essential　Christianity　of　the　poet　Shelley　filtering　through　the　oak；　he　had　moved　on。
　Silence　from　behind　another　door　farther　down　the　passage　encouraged　him　to　place　his　fingers　on　the　handle；　but　a　crashing　chord　from　an　unseen　piano　made　him　remove　them　swiftly。　He　roamed　on；　and　a　few　minutes　later　the　process　of　elimination　had　brought　him　to　what　was　technically　his　own　private　library　a　large；　soothing　room　full　of　old　books；　of　which　his　father　had　been　a　great　collector。　Mr。　Pett　did　not　read　old　books　himself；　but　he　liked　to　be　among　them；　and　it　is　proof　of　his　pessimism　that　he　had　not　tried　the　library　first。　To　his　depressed　mind　it　had　seemed　hardly　possible　that　there　could　be　nobody　there。
　He　stood　outside　the　door；　listening　tensely。　He　could　hear　nothing。　He　went　in；　and　for　an　instant　experienced　that　ecstatic　thrill　which　only　es　to　elderly　gentlemen　of　solitary　habit　who　in　a　house　full　of　their　juniors　find　themselves　alone　at　last。　Then　a　voice　spoke；　shattering　his　dream　of　solitude。
　〃Hello；　pop！〃
　Ogden　Ford　was　sprawling　in　a　deep　chair　in　the　shadows。
　〃e　in；　pop；　e　in。　Lots　of　room。〃
　Mr。　Pett　stood　in　the　doorway；　regarding　his　step…son　with　a　sombre　eye。　He　resented　the　boy's　tone　of　easy　patronage；　all　the　harder　to　endure　with　philosophic　calm　at　the　present　moment　from　the　fact　that　the　latter　was　lounging　in　his　favourite　chair。　Even　from　an　aesthetic　point　of　view　the　sight　of　the　bulging　child　offended　him。　Ogden　Ford　was　round　and　blobby　and　looked　overfed。　He　had　the　plethoric　habit　of　one　to　whom　wholesome　exercise　is　a　stranger　and　the　sallow　plexion　of　the　confirmed　candy…fiend。　Even　now；　a　bare　half　hour　after　breakfast；　his　jaws　were　moving　with　a　rhythmical；　champing　motion。
　〃What　are　you　eating；　boy？〃　demanded　Mr。　Pett；　his　disappointment　turning　to　irritability。
　〃Candy。〃
　〃I　wish　you　would　not　eat　candy　all　day。〃
　〃Mother　gave　it　to　me；〃　said　Ogden　simply。　As　he　had　anticipated；　the　shot　silenced　the　enemy's　battery。　Mr。　Pett　grunted；　but　made　no　verbal　ment。　Ogden　celebrated　his　victory　by　putting　another　piece　of　candy　in　his　mouth。
　〃Got　a　grouch　this　morning；　haven't　you；　pop？〃
　〃I　will　not　be　spoken　to　like　that！〃
　〃I　thought　you　had；〃　said　his　step…son　placently。　〃I　can　always　tell。　I　don't　see　why　you　want　to　e　picking　on　me；　though。　I've　done　nothing。〃
　Mr。　Pett　was　sniffing　suspiciously。
　〃You've　been　smoking。〃
　〃Me！！〃
　〃Smoking　cigarettes。〃
　〃No；　sir！〃
　〃There　are　two　butts　in　the　ash…tray。〃
　〃I　didn't　put　them　there。〃
　〃One　of　them　is　warm。〃
　〃It's　a　warm　day。〃
　〃You　dropped　it　there　when　you　heard　me　e　in。〃
　〃No；　sir！　I've　only　been　here　a　few　minutes。　I　guess　one　of　the　fellows　was　in　here　before　me。　They're　always　swiping　your　coffin…nails。　You　ought　to　do　something　about　it；　pop。　You　ought　to　assert　yourself。〃
　A　sense　of　helplessness　came　upon　Mr。　Pett。　For　the　thousandth　time　he　felt　himself　baffled　by　this　calm；　goggle…eyed　boy　who　treated　him　with　such　supercilious　coolness。
　〃You　ought　to　be　out　in　the　open　air　this　lovely　morning；〃　he　said　feebly。
　〃All　right。　Let's　go　for　a　walk。　I　will　if　you　will。〃
　〃II　have　other　things　to　do；〃　said　Mr。　Pett；　recoiling　from　the　prospect。
　〃Well；　this　fresh…air　stuff　is　overrated　anyway。　Where's　the　sense　of　having　a　home　if　you　don't　stop　in　it？〃
　〃When　I　was　your　age；　I　would　have　been　out　on　a　morning　like　thiserbowling　my　hoop。〃
　〃And　look　at　you　now！〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃Martyr　to　lumbago。〃
　〃I　am　not　a　martyr　to　lumbago；〃　said　Mr。　Pett；　who　was　touchy　on　the　subject。
　〃Have　it　your　own　way。　All　I　know　is〃
　〃Never　mind！〃
　〃I'm　only　saying　what　mother　。　。　。〃
　〃Be　quiet！〃
　Ogden　made　further　researches　in　the　candy　box。
　〃Have　some；　pop？〃
　〃No。〃
　〃Quite　right。　Got　to　be　careful　at　your　age。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　〃Getting　on；　you　know。　Not　so　young　as　you　used　to　be。　e　in；　pop；　if　you're　ing　in。　There's　a　draft　from　that　door。〃
　Mr。　Pett　retired；　fermenting。　He　wondered　how　another　man　would　have　handled　this　situation。　The　ridiculous　inconsistency　of　the　human　character　infuriated　him。　Why　should　he　be　a　totally　different　man　on　Riverside　Drive　from　the　person　he　was　in　Pine　Street？　Why　should　he　be　able　to　hold　his　own　in　Pine　Street　with　grown　menwhiskered；　square…jawed　financiersand　yet　be　unable　on　Riverside　Drive　to　eject　a　fourteen…year…old　boy　from　an　easy　chair？　It　seemed　to　him　sometimes　that　a　curious　paralysis　of　the　will　came　over　him　out　of　business　hours。
　Meanwhile；　he　had　still　to　find　a　place　where　he　could　read　his　Sunday　paper。
　He　stood　for　a　while　in　thought。　Then　his　brow　cleared；　and　he　began　to　mount　the　stairs。　Reaching　the　top　floor；　he　walked　along　the　passage　and　knocked　on　a　door　at　the　end　of　it。　From　behind　this　door；　as　from　behind　those　below；　sounds　proceeded；　but　this　time　they　did　not　seem　to　discourage　Mr。　Pett。　It　was　the　tapping　of　a　typewriter　that　he　heard；　and　he　listened　to　it　with　an　air　of　benevolent　approval。　He　loved　to　hear　the　sound　of　a　typewriter：　it　made　home　so　like　the　office。
　〃e　in；〃　called　a　girl's　voice。
　The　room　in　which　Mr。　Pett　found　himself　was　small　but　cosy；　and　its　cosinessoddly；　considering　the　sex　of　its　ownerhad　that　peculiar　quality　which　belongs　as　a　rule　to　the　dens　of　men。　A　large　bookcase　almost　covered　one　side　of　it；　its　reds　and　blues　and　browns　smiling　cheerfully