the fortunes of oliver horn-第21部分
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〃We won't ask your father； Ollie；〃 she said； drawing him closer to her。 She knew he would yield to her wishes； and she loved him the better for it； if that were possible。 〃I have a little money saved which I will give you。 You won't be long finding a good place。〃
〃And how often can I come back to you？〃 he cried； starting up。 Until now this phase of the situation had not entered his mind。
〃Not often； my boycertainly not until you can afford it。 It is costly travelling。 Maybe once or twice a year。〃
〃Oh； then there's no use talking； I can't go。 I can'tcan't； be away from you that long。 That's going to be the hardest part。〃 He had started from his seat and； stood over her； a look of determination on his face。
〃Oh； yes； you can； my son； and you will；〃 she replied； as she too rose and stood beside him； stopping the outburst of his weakness with her calm voice； and quieting and soothing him with the soft touch of her hand； caressing his cheek with her fingers as she had so often done when he； a baby； had lain upon her breast。
Then with a smile on her face； she had kissed him good…night； closed the door； and staggering along the corridor steadying herself as she walked； her hand on the walls； had thrown herself upon her bed in an agony of tears； crying out：
〃Oh； my boymy boy！ How can I give you up？ And I know it is forever！〃
And now here he is foot…sore and heart…sore； sitting in Union Square； New York； the roar of the great city in his ears； and here he must sit until the cattle…barge which takes him every night to the house of Amos Cobb's friend is ready to start on her voyage up the river。
He sat with his head in his hands； his elbows on his knees； not stirring until a jar on the other end of the bench roused him。 A negro hod…carrier； splashed with plaster； and wearing a ragged shirt and a crownless straw hat； had taken a seat beside him。 The familiarity of the act startled Oliver。 No negro wayfarer would have dared so much in his own Square at home。
The man reached forward and drew closer to his own end of the bench a bundle of sawed ends and bits of wood which he had carried across the park on his shoulder。
Oliver watched him for a moment； with a feeling amounting almost to indignation。 〃Were the poverty and the struggle of a great city to force such familiarities upon him；〃 he wondered。 Then something in the negro's face； as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand； produced a sudden change of feeling。 〃Was this man； too； without work？〃 Oliver asked himself； as he felt the negro's weariness； and realized for the first time； the common heritage of all men。
〃Are you tired； Uncle？〃 he asked。
〃Yes； a little mite。 I been a…totin' dis kindlin' from way up yander in Twenty…third Street where the circus useter be。 Dey's buildin' a big hotel dere nowde Fifth Avenue dey calls it。 I'm a…carryin' mortar for de brick…layers an' somehow dese sticks is monst'ous heavy after workin' all day。〃
〃Where do you live？〃 asked Oliver； his eyes on the kindling…wood。
〃Not far from here； sah； little way dis side de Bow'ry。 Whar's yo'r home？〃 And the old man rose to his feet and picked up his bundle。
The question staggered Oliver。 He had no home； really none that he could call his ownnot now。
〃Oh； a long way from here；〃 he answered； thoughtfully； without raising his head； his voice choking。
The old negro gazed at him for a moment； touched his hat respectfully； and walked toward the gate。 At the entrance he wheeled about； balanced the bundle of wood on his shoulder and looked back at Oliver； who had resumed his old position； his eyes on the ground。 Then he walked away； muttering：
〃'Pears like he's one o' my own people calling me uncle。 Spec' he ain't been long from his mammy。〃
Two street…rats now sneaked up toward Oliver； watched him for a moment； and whispered to each other。 One threw a stone which grazed Oliver's head； the other put his hand to his mouth and yelled： 〃Spad； spad；〃 at the top of his voice。 Oliver understood the epithet； it meant that he wore clean linen； polished shoes； and perhaps； now and then； a pair of gloves。 He had heard the same outcry in his own city； for the slang of the street…rat is Volapuk the world over。 But he did not resent the assault。 He was too tired to chase any boys； and too despondent to answer their taunts。
A constable； attracted by the cries of the boys； now passed in front of him swinging his long staff。 He was about to tap Oliver's knees with one end of it； as a gentle reminder that he had better move on； when something in the young man's face or appearance made him change his mind。
〃Hi； sonny；〃 he cried； turning quickly and facing Olivr； 〃yer can't bum round here after ten； ye know。 Keep yer eyes peeled for them gates； d'ye hear？〃
If Oliver heard he made no reply。 He was in no mood to dispute the officer's right to order him about。 The gates were not the only openings shut in his face； he thought to himself； everything seemed closed against him in this great city。 It was not so at home on Kennedy Square。 Its fence； was a shackly； moss…covered； sagging old fence； intertwined with honeysuckles； full of holes and minus many a paling； where he could have found a dozen places to crawl through。 He had done so only a few weeks before with Sue in a mad frolic across the Square。 Besides； why should the constable speak to him at all？ He knew all about the hour of closing the New York gates without the policeman reminding him of it。 Had he not sat here every night waiting for that cattle…boat？ He hated the place cordially； yet it was the only spot in that great city to which he could come and not be molested while he waited for the barges。 He always selected this particular bench because it was nearest the gate that led to the bronze horse。 He loved to look at its noble contour silhouetted against the sky or illumined by the street…lamps； and was seldom too tired to be inspired by it。 He had never seen any work in sculpture to be compared to it； and for the first few days after his arrival； he was never content to end the day's tramping until he stood beneath it； following its outlines； his heart swelling with pride at the thought that one of his own nationality and not a European had created it。 He wished that his father； who believed so in the talent of his countrymen； could see it。
Suddenly； while he was still resenting the familiarity of the constable； his ears were assailed by the cry of a dog in pain； some street…rat had kicked him。
Instantly Oliver was on his feet。 A small spaniel was running toward him； followed by half a dozen boys who were pelting him with stones。
Oliver sprang forward as the dog crouched at his feet； caught him up in his arms and started for the rats； who dodged behind the tree…trunks； calling 〃Spad； spad；〃 as they ran。 Then came the voice of the same constable。
〃Hi； yer can't bring that dog in here。〃
〃He's not my dog； somebody has hurt him；〃 said Oliver in an indifferent tone； examining carefully the dog's legs to see if any bones were broken。
〃If that ain't your dog what yer doin' with him？ See here； I been a…watchin' ye。 Yer got ter move on or I'll run ye in。 D'ye moind？〃
Oliver's eyes flashed。 In all his life no man had ever doubted his word； nor had anyone ever spoken to him in such terms。
〃You can do as you please； but I will take care of this dog； no matter what happens。 You ought to be ashamed of yourself to see him hurt； and not want to protect him。 You're a pretty kind of an officer。〃
A crowd began to gather。
Oliver was standing with the dog under one arm； holding the little fellow close to his breast； the other bent with fist tight shut as if to defend himself。
〃I am； am I？ yer moon…faced spad！ I'll show ye；〃 and he sprang toward Oliver。
〃Here now； Tim Murphy；〃 came a sharp voice； 〃kape yer hands off the young gintleman。 He ain't a…doin' nothin'； and he ain't done nothin'。 Thim divils hit the dog； I seen 'em myself。〃
The officer turned quickly and faced a big； broad… shouldered Irish woman； bare…headed； her sleeves rolled up to her elbows； every line in her kindly face replete with indignation。
〃Don't put yer hands on him； or I'll go to the lock…up an' tell McManus。〃
〃Oh； it's you； is it； Mrs。 Mulligan？〃 said the officer； in a conciliatory tone。
〃Yes； it's me。 The young gintleman's right。 It's the b'ys ye oughter club into shape； not be foolin' yer time over the dog。〃
〃Well； ye know it's agin the rules to let dogs inside the gates；〃 he retorted as he continued his stroll along the walk； swinging his club as he went； puffing out his chest and cheeks with his old air as he moved toward the gate。
〃Yes； an' so it's agin the rules；〃 she called after him； 〃to have them rapscallions yellin' like mad an' howlin' bloody murder when a body comes up here to git a breath o' air。〃
〃Is the dog hurt； sir？〃 and she stepped close to Oliver and laid her big hand on the dog's head； as it lay nestling close to Oliver's side。
〃No； I don't think sohe would have been if I had not got him。〃
The dog； under the caress； raised his head； and a slight movement of his tail expressed his pleasure。 Then his ears shot forward。 A young man about Oliver's own
