the story of a bad boy(顽童故事)-第20部分
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neigh； and tossed the gentle Emma heels over head in no time。 But with
any of the boys the mare was as docile as a lamb。
Her treatment of the several members of the family was comical。 For
the Captain she entertained a wholesome respect； and was always on her
good behavior when he was around。 As to Miss Abigail； Gypsy simply
laughed at her…literally laughed； contracting her upper lip and displaying
all her snow…white teeth； as if something about Miss Abigail struck her；
Gypsy； as being extremely ridiculous。
Kitty Collins； for some reason or another； was afraid of the pony； or
pretended to be。 The sagacious little animal knew it； of course； and
frequently； when Kitty was banging out clothes near the stable； the mare
being loose in the yard； would make short plunges at her。 Once Gypsy
seized the basket of clothespins with her teeth； and rising on her hind legs；
pawing the air with her fore feet followed Kitty clear up to the scullery
steps。
That part of the yard was shut off from the rest by a gate； but no gate
was proof against Gypsy's ingenuity。 She could let down bars； lift up
latches； draw bolts； and turn all sorts of buttons。 This accomplishment
rendered it hazardous for Miss Abigail or Kitty to leave any eatables on
the kitchen table near the window。 On one occasion Gypsy put in her head
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and lapped up six custard pies that had been placed by the casement to
cool。
An account of my young lady's various pranks would fill a thick
volume。 A favorite trick of hers； on being requested to 〃walk like Miss
Abigail；〃 was to assume a little skittish gait so true to nature that Miss
Abigail herself was obliged to admit the cleverness of the imitation。
The idea of putting Gypsy through a systematic course of instruction
was suggested to me by a visit to the circus which gave an annual
performance in Rivermouth。 This show embraced among its attractions a
number of trained Shetland ponies； and I determined that Gypsy should
likewise have the benefit of a liberal education。 I succeeded in teaching
her to waltz； to fire a pistol by tugging at a string tied to the trigger； to lie
down dead； to wink one eye； and to execute many other feats of a difficult
nature。 She took to her studies admirably； and enjoyed the whole thing as
much as anyone。
The monkey was a perpetual marvel to Gypsy。 They became bosom…
friends in an incredibly brief period； and were never easy out of each
other's sight。 Prince Zany…that's what Pepper Whitcomb and I christened
him one day； much to the disgust of the monkey； who bit a piece out of
Pepper's nose…resided in the stable； and went to roost every night on the
pony's back； where I usually found him in the morning。 Whenever I rode
out； I was obliged to secure his Highness the Prince with a stout cord to
the fence； he chattering all the time like a madman。
One afternoon as I was cantering through the crowded part of the town；
I noticed that the people in the street stopped； stared at me； and fell to
laughing。 I turned round in the saddle； and there was Zany； with a great
burdock leaf in his paw； perched up behind me on the crupper； as solemn
as a judge。
After a few months； poor Zany sickened mysteriously； and died。 The
dark thought occurred to me then； and comes back to me now with
redoubled force； that Miss Abigail must have given him some hot…drops。
Zany left a large circle of sorrowing friends； if not relatives。 Gypsy； I think；
never entirely recovered from the shock occasioned by his early demise。
She became fonder of me； though； and one of her cunningest
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demonstrations was to escape from the stable…yard； and trot up to the door
of the Temple Grammar School； where I would discover her at recess
patiently waiting for me； with her fore feet on the second step； and wisps
of straw standing out all over her； like quills upon the fretful porcupine。
I should fail if I tried to tell you how dear the pony was to me。 Even
hard； unloving men become attached to the horses they take care of； so I；
who was neither unloving nor hard； grew to love every glossy hair of the
pretty little creature that depended on me for her soft straw bed and her
daily modicum of oats。 In my prayer at night I never forgot to mention
Gypsy with the rest of the family…generally setting forth her claims first。
Whatever relates to Gypsy belongs properly to this narrative； therefore
I offer no apology for rescuing from oblivion； and boldly printing here a
short composition which I wrote in the early part of my first quarter at the
Temple Grammar School。 It is my maiden effort in a difficult art； and is；
perhaps； lacking in those graces of thought and style which are reached
only after the severest practice。
Every Wednesday morning； on entering school； each pupil was
expected to lay his exercise on Mr。 Grimshaw's desk； the subject was
usually selected by Mr。 Grimshaw himself； the Monday previous。 With a
humor characteristic of him； our teacher had instituted two prizes； one for
the best and the other for the worst composition of the month。 The first
prize consisted of a penknife； or a pencil…case； or some such article dear to
the heart of youth； the second prize entitled the winner to wear for an hour
or two a sort of conical paper cap； on the front of which was written； in tall
letters； this modest admission： I AM A DUNCE！ The competitor who took
prize No。 2。 wasn't generally an object of envy。
My pulse beat high with pride and expectation that Wednesday
morning； as I laid my essay； neatly folded； on the master's table。 I firmly
decline to say which prize I won； but here's the composition to speak for
itself。
It is no small…author vanity that induces me to publish this stray leaf of
natural history。 I lay it before our young folks； not for their admiration； but
for their criticism。 Let each reader take his lead…pencil and remorselessly
correct the orthography； the capitalization； and the punctuation of the
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essay。 I shall not feel hurt at seeing my treatise cut all to pieces； though I
think highly of the production； not on account of its literary excellence；
which I candidly admit is not overpowering； but because it was written
years and years ago about Gypsy； by a little fellow who； when I strive to
recall him； appears to me like a reduced ghost of my present self。
I am confident that any reader who has ever had pets； birds or animals；
will forgive me for this brief digression。
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The Story of a Bad Boy
CHAPTER Twelve
Winter at Rivermouth
〃I guess we're going to have a regular old…fashioned snowstorm；〃 said
Captain Nutter； one bleak December morning； casting a peculiarly nautical
glance skyward。
The Captain was always hazarding prophecies about the weather；
which somehow never turned out according to his prediction。 The vanes
on the church…steeples seemed to take fiendish pleasure in humiliating the
dear old gentleman。 If he said it was going to be a clear day； a dense sea…
fog was pretty certain to set in before noon。 Once he caused a protracted
drought by assuring us every morning； for six consecutive weeks； that it
would rain in a few hours。 But； sure enough； that afternoon it began
snowing。
Now I had not seen a snow…storm since I was eighteen months old； and
of course remembered nothing about it。 A boy familiar from his infancy
with the rigors of our New England winters can form no idea of the
impression made on me by this natural phenomenon。 My delight and
surprise were as boundless as if the heavy gray sky had let down a shower
