bleak house(凄凉的房子)-第97节
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Judith Smallweed； twins。 During the whole time consumed in the
slow growth of this family tree； the house of Smallweed； always
early to go out and late to marry； has strengthened itself in its
practical character； has discarded all amusements；
discountenanced all storybooks； fairy…tales； fictions； and fables；
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and banished all levities whatsoever。 Hence the gratifying fact；
that it has had no child born to it； and that the complete little men
and women whom it has produced； have been observed to bear a
likeness to old monkeys with something depressing on their
minds。
At the present time； in the dark little parlour certain feet below
the level of the street—a grim； hard； uncouth parlour； only
ornamented with the coarsest of baize table…covers； and the
hardest of sheet…iron tea…trays； and offering in its decorative
character no bad allegorical representation of Grandfather
Smallweed’s mind—seated in two black horsehair porter’s chairs；
one on each side of the fireplace； the superannuated Mr and Mrs
Smallweed wile away the rosy hours。 On the stove are a couple of
trivets for the pots and kettles which it is Grandfather
Smallweed’s usual occupation to watch； and projecting from the
chimney…piece between them is a sort of brass gallows for roasting；
which he also superintends when it is in action。 Under the
venerable Mr Smallweeds seat； and guarded by his spindle legs； is
a drawer in his chair； reported to contain property to a fabulous
amount。 Beside him is a spare cushion； with which he is always
provided； in order that he may have something to throw at the
venerable partner of his respected age whenever she makes an
allusion to money—a subject on which he is particularly sensitive。
“And where’s Bart？” Grandfather Smallweed inquires of Judy；
Bart’s twin…sister。
“He an’t come in yet；” says Judy。
“It’s his tea time； isn’t it？”
“No。”
“How much do you mean to say it wants then？”
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“Ten minutes。”
“Hey？”
“Ten minutes。”—（Loud on the part of Judy。）
“Ho！” says Grandfather Smallweed。 “Ten minutes。”
Grandmother Smallweed； who has been mumbling and shaking
her head at the trivets； hearing figures mentioned； connects them
with money； and screeches； like a horrible old parrot without any
plumage； “Ten ten…pound notes！”
Grandfather Smallweed immediately throws the cushion at her。
“Drat you； be quite！” says the good old man。
The effect of this act of jaculation is twofold。 It not only doubles
up Mrs Smallweed’s head against the side of her porter’s chair；
and causes her to present； when extricated by her grand…daughter；
a highly unbecoming state of cap； but the necessary exertion
recoils on Mr Smallweed himself； whom it throws back into his
porter’s chair； like a broken puppet。 The excellent old gentleman
being； at these times； a mere clothes…bag with a black skull…cap on
the top of it； does not present a very animated appearance； until
he has undergone the two operations at the hands of his grand…
daughter； of being shaken up like a great bottle； and poked and
punched like a great bolster。 Some indication of a neck being
developed in him by these means； he and the sharer of his life’s
evening again sit fronting one another in their two porter’s chairs；
like a couple of sentinels long forgotten on their post by the Black
Serjeant； Death。
Judy the twin is worthy company for these associates。 She is so
indubitably sister to Mr Smallweed the younger； that the two
kneaded into one would hardly make a young person of average
proportions； while she so happily exemplifies the before…
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mentioned family likeness to the monkey tribe； that； attired in a
spangled robe and cap； she might walk about the table—land on
the top of a barrel…organ without exciting much remark as an
unusual specimen。 Under existing circumstances； however； she is
dressed in a plain； spare gown of brown stuff。
Judy never owned a doll； never heard of Cinderella； never
played at any game。 She once or twice fell into children’s company
when she was about ten years old； but the children couldn’t get on
with Judy； and Judy couldn’t get on with them。 She seemed like
an animal of another species； and there was instinctive
repugnance on both sides。 It is very doubtful whether Judy knows
how to laugh。 She has so rarely seen the thing done； that the
probabilities are strong the other way。 Of anything like a youthful
laugh； she certainly can have no conception。 If she were to try one；
she would find her teeth in her way； modelling that action of her
face； as she has unconsciously modelled all its other expressions；
on her pattern of sordid age。 Such is Judy。
And her twin brother couldn’t wind up a top for his life。 He
knows no more of Jack the Giant Killer； or of Sinbad the Sailor；
than he knows of the people in the stars。 He could as soon play at
leapfrog； or at cricket； as change into a cricket or a frog himself。
But； he is so much the better off than his sister； that on his narrow
world of fact an opening has dawned； into such broader regions as
lie within the ken of Mr Guppy。 Hence； his admiration and
emulation of that shining enchanter。
Judy； with a gong…like clash and clatter； sets one of the sheet…
iron tea…trays on the table； and arranges cups and saucers。 The
bread she puts on in an iron basket； and the butter （and not much
of it） in a small pewter plate。 Grandfather Smallweed looks hard
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after the tea as it is served out； and asks Judy where the girl is？
“Charley； do you mean？” says Judy。
“Hey？” from Grandfather Smallweed。
“Charley do you mean？”
This touches a spring in Grandmother Smallweed； who；
chuckling； as usual； at the trivets； cries—“Over the water！ Charley
over the water； Charley over the water； over the water to Charley；
Charley over the water； over the water to Charley！” and becomes
quite energetic about it。 Grandfather looks at the cushion； but has
not sufficiently recovered his late exertion。
“Ha！” he says； when there is silence—“if that’s her name。 She
eats a deal。 It would be better to allow her for her keep。”
Judy； with her brother’s wink； shakes her head； and purses up
her mouth into No； without saying it。
“No？” returns the old man。 “Why not？”
“She’d want sixpence a…day； and we can do it for less；” says
Judy。
“Sure？”
Judy answers with a nod of deepest meaning； and calls； as she
scrapes the butter on the loaf with every precaution against waste；
and cuts it into slices； “You Charley； where are you？” Timidly
obedient to the summons； a little girl in a rough apron and a large
bonnet； with her hands covered with soap and water； and a
scrubbing brush in one of them； appears； and curtseys。
“What work are you about now？” says Judy； making an ancient
snap at her； like a very sharp old beldame。
“I’m a…cleaning the upstairs back room； miss；” replies Charley。
“Mind you do it thoroughly； and don’t loiter。 Shirking won’t do
for me。 Make haste！ Go along！” cries Judy； with a stamp upon the
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