The Doll's Hou
By Katherine Mansfield
When dear old Mrs. Hay went back to town after staying with the Burnells she nt the children a doll's hou, it was so big that the carter and Pat carried it in to the courtyard, and there it stayed, propped on two wooden boxes beside the feed-room door. No harm could come of it; it was summer. And perhaps the smell of paint would have gone off by the time it had to be taken in. For, really, the smell of paint coming from that doll's hou (" Sweet of old Mrs. Hay, of cour; most sweet and generous!") - but the smell of paint was quite enough to make any one riously ill, in Aunt Beryl's opinion. Even before the sacking was taken off. And when it was….
幽默小笑话 There stood the doll's hou, a dark, oily, spinach green, picked out with bright yellow. Its two solid little chimneys, glued on to the roof, were painted red and white, and the door, gle
aming with yellow varnish, was like a little slab of toffee. Four windows, real windows, were divided into panels by a broad streak of green. There was actually a tiny porch, too, painted yellow, with big lumps of congealed paint hanging along the edge.
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But perfect, perfect little hou! Who could possibly mind the smell? It was part of the joy, part of the newness.
"Open it quickly, some one!"
处暑是什么季节 The hook at the side was stuck fast. Pat pried it open with his penknife, and the whole hou-front swung back, and - there you were, gazing at one and the same moment into the drawing-room and dining-room, the kitchen and two bedrooms. That is the way for a hou to open! Why don't all hous open like that? How much more exciting than peering through the slit of a door into a mean little hall with a hatstand and two umbrellas! That is - isn't it? - what you long to know about a hou when you put your hand on the knocker. Perhaps it is the way God opens hous at dead of night when He is taking a quiet turn with an angel….阿廖沙
我们这一代年轻人 "O-oh!" The Burnell children sounded as though they were in despair. It was too marvelous; it was too much for them. They had never en anything like it in their lives. All the rooms were paired. There were pictures on the walls, painted on the paper, with gold frames complete. Red carpet covered all the floors except the kitchen; red plush chairs in the drawing-room, green in the dining-room; tables, beds with real bedclothes, a cradle, a stove, a dresr with tiny plates and one big jug. But what Kezia liked more than anything, what she liked frightfully, was the lamp. It stood in the middle of the dining-room table, an exquisite little amber lamp with a white globe. It was even filled all ready for lighting, though, of cour, you couldn't light it. But there was something inside that looked like oil, and that moved when you shook it.
The father and mother dolls, who sprawled very stiff as though they had fainted in the drawing-room, and their two little children asleep upstairs, were really too big for the doll's hou. They didn't look as though they belonged. But the lamp was perfect. It emed to smile at Kezia, to say, "I live here." The lamp was real.党员个人查摆问题
The Burnell children could hardly walk to school fast enough the next morning. They burned to tell everybody, to describe, to - well - to boast about their doll's hou before the school-bell rang.
"I'm to tell," said Isabel, "becau I'm the eldest. And you two can join in after. But I'm to tell first."
There was nothing to answer. Isabel was bossy, but she was always right, and Lottie and Kezia knew too well the powers that went with being eldest. They brushed through the thick buttercups at the road edge and said nothing.
"And I'm to choo who's to come and e it first. Mother said I might."
For it had been arranged that while the doll's hou stood in the courtyard they might ask the girls at school, two at a time, to come and look. Not to stay to tea, of cour, or to come traipsing through the hou. But just to stand quietly in the courtyard while Isabel pointed out the beauties, and Lottie and Kezia looked plead….
But hurry as they might, by the time they had reached the tarred palings of the boys' playground the bell had begun to jangle. They only just had time to whip off their hats and fall into line before the roll was called. Never mind. Isabel tried to make up for it by looking very important and mysterious and by whispering behind her hands to the girls near her, "Got something to tell you at playtime."幼儿在家表现
Playtime came and Isabel was surrounded. The girls of her class nearly fought to put their arms round her, to walk away with her, to beam flatteringly, to be her special friend. She held quite a court under the huge pine trees at the side of the playground. Nudging, giggling together, the little girls presd up clo, and the only two who stayed outside the ring were the two who were always outside, the little Kelveys. They knew better than to come anywhere near the Burnells.
For the fact was, the school the Burnell children went to was not at all the kind of place their parents would have chon if there had been any choice. But there was none. It was the only school for miles. And the conquence was all the children in the neighborhood,
the Judge's little girls, the doctor's daughters, the storekeeper's children, the milkman's, were forced to mix together. Not to speak of there being an equal number of rude, rough little boys as well. But the line had to be drawn somewhere. It was drawn at the Kelveys. Many of the children, including the Burnells, were not allowed even to speak to them. They walked past the Kelveys with their heads in the air, and as they t the fashion in all matters of behavior, the Kelveys were shunned by everybody. Even the teacher had a special voice for them, and a special smile for the other children when Lil Kelvey came up to her desk with a bunch of dreadfully common-looking flowers.
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