bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第122节
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Bleak House 507
breakfast。
“What marshes？”
“The marshes； commander；” returns Phil。
“Where are they？”
“I don’t know where they are；” says Phil； “but I see ’em；
guv’ner。 They was flat。 And miste。”
Governor and Commander are interchangeable terms with
Phil； expressive of the same respect and deference； and applicable
to nobody but Mr George。
“I was born in the country； Phil。”
“Was you indeed； commander？”
“Yes。 And bred there。” Phil elevated his one eyebrow； and； after
respectfully staring at his master to express interest； swallows a
great gulp of coffee； still staring at him。
“There’s not a bird’s note that I don’t know；” says Mr George。
“Not many an English leaf or berry that I couldn’t name。 Not
many a tree that I couldn’t climb yet； if I was put to it。 I was a real
country boy once。 My good mother lived in the country。”
“She must have been a fine old lady； guv’ner；” Phil observes。
“Ay！ and not so old either； five…and…thirty years ago；” says Mr
George。 “But I’ll wager that at ninety she would be near as upright
as me； and near as broad across the shoulders。”
“Did she die at ninety； guv’ner？” inquires Phil。
“No。 Bosh！ Let her rest in peace； God bless her！” says the
trooper。 “What set me on about country boys； and runaways and
good for nothings？ You； to be sure！ So you never clapped your
eyes upon the country…marshes and dreams excepted。 Eh？”
Phil shakes his head。
“Do you want to see it？”
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“N…no； I don’t know as I do； particular；” says Phil。
“The town’s enough for you； eh？”
“Why you see； commander；” says Phil； “I ain’t acquainted with
anythink else； and I doubt if I ain’t a getting too old to take to
novelties。”
“How old are you； Phil？” asks the trooper； pausing as he
conveys his smoking saucer to his lips。
“I’m something with a eight in it；” says Phil。 “It can’t be eighty。
Nor yet eighteen。 It’s betwixt ’em somewheres。”
Mr George； slowly putting down his saucer without tasting the
contents； is laughingly beginning； “Why； what the deuce； Phil”—
when he stops； seeing that Phil is counting on his dirty fingers。
“I was just eight；” says Phil； “agreeable to the parish
calculation； when I went with the tinker。 I was sent on an errand；
and I see him a sitting under a old buildin with a fire all to himself
wery comfortable； and he says； ‘Would you like to come along a
me； my man？’ I says ‘Yes；’ and him and me and the fire goes home
to Clerkenwell together。 That was April Fool Day。 I was able to
count up to ten； and when April Fool Day come round again； I says
to myself； ‘Now； old chap； you’re one and a eight in it。’ April Fool
Day after that； I says； ‘Now； old chap； you’re two and a eight in it。’
In course of time； I come to ten and a eight in it； two tens and a
eight in it。 When it got so high； it got the upper hand of me； but
this is how I always know there’s a eight in it。”
“Ah；” says Mr George； resuming his breakfast。 “And where’s
the tinker？”
“Drink put him in the hospital； guv’ner； and the hospital put
him—in a glass case； I have heerd；” Phil replies mysteriously。
“By that means you got promotion？ Took the business； Phil？”
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“Yes； commander； I took the business。 Such as it was。 It wasn’t
much of a beat—round Saffron Hill； Hatton Garden； Clerkenwell；
Smiffeld； and there—poor neighbourhood； where they use up the
kettles till they’re past mending。 Most of the tramping tinkers used
to come and lodge at our place； that was the best part of my
master’s earnings。 But they didn’t come to me。 I warn’t like him。
He could sing ’em a good song。 I couldn’t！ He could play ’em a
tune on any sort of pot you please； so as it was iron or block tin。 I
never could do nothing with a pot but mend it or bile it—never
had a note of music in me。 Besides； I was too ill…looking； and their
wives complained of me。”
“They were mighty particular。 You would pass muster in a
crowd； Phil！” says the trooper； with a pleasant smile。
“No； guv’ner；” returns Phil； shaking his head。 “No； I shouldn’t。
I was passable enough when I went with the tinker； though
nothing to boast of then： but what with blowing the fire with my
mouth when I was young； and spileing my complexion； and
singeing my hair off； and swallering the smoke； and what with
being nat’rally unfort’nate in the way of running against hot metal；
and marking myself by sich means； and what with having turn…ups
with the tinker as I got older； almost whenever he was too far gone
in drink—which was almost always—my beauty was queer； wery
queer； even at that time。 As to since； what with a dozen years in a
dark forge； where the men was given to larking； and what with
being scorched in a accident at a gasworks； and what with being
blowed out of winder； case…filling at the firework business； I am
ugly enough to be made a show on！”
Resigning himself to which condition with a perfectly satisfied
manner； Phil begs the favour of another cup of coffee。 While
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drinking it； he says：
“It was after the case…filling blow…up； when I first see you；
commander。 You remember？”
“I remember； Phil。 You were walking in the sun。”
“Crawling； guv’ner； again a wall—”
“True； Phil—shouldering your way on—”
“In a nightcap！” exclaimed Phil； excited。
“In a nightcap—”
“And hobbling with a couple of sticks！” cries Phil； still more
excited。
“With a couple of sticks。 When—”
“When you stops； you know；” cries Phil； putting down his cup
and saucer； and hastily removing his plate from his knees； “and
says to me； ‘What； comrade！ You have been in the wars！’ I didn’t
say much to you； commander； then； for I was took by surprise； that
a person so strong and healthy and bold as you was； should stop to
speak to such a limping bag of bones as I was。 But you says to me；
says you； delivering it out of your chest as hearty as possible； so
that it was like a glass of something hot； ‘What accident have you
met with？ You have been badly hurt。 What’s amiss； old boy？
Cheer up； and tell us about it！’ Cheer up！ I was cheered already！ I
says as much to you； you says more to me； I says more to you； you
says more to me； and here I am； commander！ Here I am；
commander！” cries Phil； who has started from his chair and
unaccountably begun to sidle away。 “If a mark’s wanted； or if it
will improve the business； let the customers take aim at me。 They
can’t spoil my beauty。 I’m all right。 Come on！ If they want a man to
box at； let ’em box at me。 Let ’em knock me well about the head。 I
don’t mind！ If they want a light…weight； to be throwed for practice；
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Cornwall； Devonshire； or Lancashire； let ’em throw me。 They
won’t hurt me。 I have been throwed； all sorts of styles； all my life！”
With this unexpected speech； energetically delivered； and
accompanied by action illustrative of the various exercises
referred to； Phil Squod shoulders his way round three sides of the
gallery； and abruptly tacking off at his commander； makes a butt
at him with his h
