第二十八章　家务经验

和大多数少妇一样，美格开始婚姻生活时，就下决心做一个模范的主妇，让约翰感到家是个天堂，太太永远笑脸相迎，每天过着优裕的生活，绝不让他衣服上的纽扣少一个。她爱意深厚、精力充沛、心情愉快地做着家务，尽管有一些障碍，但一定要干好。不过，她的天堂并不宁静，因为这位小妇人尽是折腾，过于想让丈夫满意，跑来跑去不亚于真正的马大嫂[1]，操心的事情实在多。她有时累得连笑都笑不起来，约翰顿顿美味佳肴，搞得消化不良，忘恩负义地要吃什么清淡的。至于纽扣，她很快就发现，根本无法知道它们掉在何处。对男人的粗心大意她直摇头，威胁说要他自己钉扣子，要看看他自己钉的扣子是否更经得起那双不耐烦的笨手去折腾。

他们很幸福，虽然他们已经发现，仅靠爱情来维持生活是不行的。约翰认为美格依然美丽，尽管她的微笑隔着熟悉的咖啡壶。美格每天照样得到浪漫的吻别，此时丈夫还会温柔地问：“达令，要差人送些牛肉或羊肉来做菜吗？”小房子不再是辉煌的凉亭，而是一个家了，年轻的夫妇觉得这种变化更好。起初，他们玩儿似的料理家务，孩子似的在家里嬉戏。后来，约翰慢慢地开始做起生意来，他意识到自己肩负着户主的赡养责任。美格则脱下麻纱披肩，系上大围裙，像前面说的那样，毛手毛脚，干劲十足地投入到家务中。

烹饪热情高涨期间，美格通读了科尼利厄斯太太的《食谱》，仿佛在做数学题，耐心细致地解了一道又一道题目。有时候，菜做得味道很不错，量太多了，她就把全家人请来帮着一起吃宴席；有时候，菜做坏了，她就打个包，躲着人，暗地里差洛蒂送给胡梅尔家的孩子们去吃，方便利用嘛。要是哪天晚上她和约翰一起看了账本，烹饪热情通常会暂时消退，节俭冲动继起，可怜的户主只能吃面包布丁、大杂烩和反复加热的咖啡了，结果吃伤了他的心，尽管他以难能可贵的坚韧去忍受。然而，在发现调和折中的办法之前，美格在家产中添置了年轻夫妇不能长期没有的——家用腌缸。

家庭主妇都渴望看到储藏室里存有自制蜜饯，于是她热情高涨，着手制备自己的醋栗冻。她让约翰订购一打左右的小罐子和大量的糖，因为他们家的醋栗熟了，得马上处理。约翰坚信，任何事“我妻”均能胜任，自然为她的手艺感到自豪，他决心满足她的要求，把他们家唯一的果实以最中意的形式储存起来供冬天食用。家里来了四打漂亮的小罐子，半桶糖和一个帮助她摘醋栗的小男孩。年轻的主妇把漂亮的头发卷起来塞进小帽子里，袖子挽到手肘，系上一条尽管有护胸但看上去很妖艳的格子围裙，开始干了起来。她毫不怀疑自己能成功，不是数百次地看着汉娜做过的吗？起初那一大排的小罐子让她感到相当吃惊，但约翰是那么喜欢吃果冻，漂亮的小罐子摆在架子上又会是那么可爱，美格决心把它们全部装满，于是，花了整整一天的时间采摘、煮沸、过滤，折腾着她的果冻。她尽了最大的努力，还向科尼利厄斯太太的书请教，绞尽脑汁地回忆汉娜如何处理，而自己遗漏了什么。她再煮、再加糖、再过滤，可是讨厌的东西就是不结冻。

她很想就这样系着围裙带着帽子跑回家向母亲求助，但约翰和她有约定，不管遇到什么麻烦，诸如个人烦恼、缺乏经验、怄气争吵，都不去烦扰任何人。当时，提到“争吵”这个词，他俩都笑了，仿佛这个想法是最荒谬的。但他们遵守自己的约定，无论何事只要能自己解决就都不求人，也没有人出面干预，这也是马奇太太的建议。所以，在炎炎夏日里，美格独自一人捣鼓着那难弄的果酱，到了下午五点，她坐在被搞得乱七八糟的厨房里，搓着沾满果汁的双手，大声地哭了起来。

在令人兴奋的新生活的最初阶段，她经常说：“只要丈夫愿意，他随时可以带朋友来家里。我会时刻准备着。没有忙乱，没有责怪，没有不舒服，却有一个整洁的家，一个快乐的妻子，一桌丰盛的饭菜。约翰，亲爱的，不用征得我的批准，喜欢请谁就请谁，我肯定会欢迎的。”

无可否认，这有多诱人！听了妻子的话，约翰骄傲得神采飞扬，深感有这么一个优秀的妻子是多大的造化。但是，尽管不时有客人来，可每一次都是事先打过招呼的，到目前为止，美格根本就没机会表现自己。在这个眼泪谷般的人世间，总有诸如此类不可避免的事情发生，而我们只能感到惊异，表示悲痛，并尽可能地去忍受。

一年有那么多天，可约翰偏偏选择在那一天带朋友回家吃饭，且事先也不打个招呼，如果没有忘记美格在做果冻的话，他确实是犯了个不可饶恕的错误。他庆幸自己在那天上午已预订了美食，确信它会准时烧好，纵情地想象着这次宴请会产生迷人的效果，漂亮的妻子会跑出来迎接他，他怀着一个年轻主人和年轻丈夫抑制不住的踌躇满志，陪着客人走进自己的宅邸。

约翰走近斑鸠房，发现那扇通常好客地敞开着的门，今天不仅关着，而且还上了锁，台阶上仍然点缀着昨天的泥浆，他感到大失所望。客厅的窗关着，窗帘也拉上了。他看不到身着白色的衣服，头上扎了朵勾人的小蝴蝶结的漂亮妻子在门廊上做针线，也没见目光明亮的女主人羞涩地微笑着迎接客人。什么也没有，连个人影都没有，除了一个看上去很凶的男孩在醋栗树丛下睡觉。

“怕是发生了什么事。斯科特，你在花园待一会，我得去找布鲁克太太。”约翰说道，寂静和孤独使他警觉起来。

顺着糖被烧焦了的刺鼻气味，他匆匆地绕过房子，斯科特表情讶异，不紧不慢地跟在后面。突然不见了布鲁克，他知趣地远远停住了脚步，但他仍能看见听到。作为一个单身汉，他觉得前景非常有趣。

混乱和绝望笼罩着厨房。一批果冻被倒入了一个个罐子里，另一批还摆在地上，第三批正在炉子上欢快地煮着。有着条顿人般冷静的洛蒂正在平静地吃着面包，喝着醋栗酒，果冻仍旧无望地处于液体状态，布鲁克太太则用围裙蒙着头，坐在那里凄惨啜泣。

“我最亲爱的姑娘，出什么事啦？”约翰叫着冲了进来，心情很复杂：见到娇妻手被烫伤心痛，听到痛苦的意外消息心焦，想到花园里的客人暗自惊慌。

“约翰哦，我又累又热又恼又愁！一直干活，彻底累垮啦。你可要来帮我，否则我会没命的！”疲惫的主妇扑到他的怀里，给了他一个不折不扣的甜蜜欢迎，因为她的围裙和地面一样已经受到醋栗汁的洗礼。

“为啥事烦恼，亲爱的？发生了什么可怕的事？”约翰焦急地问，温柔地亲吻着她小帽子上的蝴蝶结，帽子已完全歪斜了。

“是的。”美格绝望地抽噎着。

“那就快告诉我，别哭了。我能承受任何事情，就是受不了你的哭。说出来，亲爱的。”

“那——那果冻凝结不起来，不知道怎么办！”

约翰·布鲁克顿时大笑了起来，不过他以后再也不敢这么笑了。这阵钟声般的纵情大笑，喜欢嘲讽的斯科特听了不知不觉地露出了笑容；而对可怜的美格来说却是雪上加霜。

“就这事？扔出窗外，以后不再烦果冻了。你要吃，我给你买几大罐。看在上帝的分上，别歇斯底里了。我今天邀请了杰克·斯科特来共进晚餐——”

约翰打住了，因为美格一把推开了他。她凄惨地拍拍双手，跌坐进一张椅子里，大声叫着，语气夹杂着愤怒、责备和沮丧：

“请人吃饭，一切都乱糟糟的！约翰·布鲁克，你怎么可以做这种事？”

“嘘，小声点，人在花园里！我把这可恶的果冻给忘了，现在已没有退路了。”约翰说，焦虑的眼睛扫视着一切。

“你应该捎个话来，或者今天早上就告诉我，你应该知道我有多忙。”美格暴躁地继续说，斑鸠急了也会啄人。

“早上还不知道要请客，也来不及捎话，是出来的路上碰到他的。我根本没想到要批准，你一贯说可以随便请人的。我以前还没这么试过，以后要是再这样，罪该万死！”约翰委屈地补充说。

“希望不要这样！立刻把他带走。我不能见他，也没有晚餐吃。”

“嗨，可我要！我让人送来的牛肉蔬菜在哪里，还有你答应做的布丁？”约翰吼着冲向食橱。

“来不及做任何东西。本来打算到娘家去吃饭。很抱歉，我忙不过来了。”美格的眼泪又掉下来。

约翰是个温和的男人，但他也是人。忙碌了一天，回到家里又累又饿，心里充满了希望，却发现家里一团糟，餐桌上空空的，妻子发脾气，这可不利于心平气和、举止文雅啊。然而，他克制住了情绪，要不是不幸说错了一个词，这场小风暴也就平息了。

“我承认，事情乱套了，但是如果你能帮我一把，我们就能过去，而且还可以过得开心。别哭了，亲爱的，只要稍微卖点力，给我们弄点吃的。我们俩都饿扁了，所以吃什么都不在乎。给我们吃点冷盘肉、面包和奶酪，不会要果冻吃的。”

他只是开个善意的玩笑，可“果冻”这个词断送了他的前途。美格认为，暗讽她那伤心的失败太残酷了，他的话使她最后的一丝忍耐也消失了。

“你自作自受，自己解决麻烦吧。我已经筋疲力尽，不想为任何人‘卖力’了。想用肉骨头、粗面包和奶酪待客，像什么话。我不想让这种事发生在我的家里。把那斯科特带到妈妈家去，告诉他我不在，病了，死了，随你怎么说。我不想见他，你们俩尽管嘲笑我，嘲笑我的果冻。在这里你们别想吃别的。”美格一口气发泄完她的挑衅，扔下围裙，冲出战场，到自己的房间里独自伤心去了。

外面两个男人到底做了些什么，她无从知道，但她知道斯科特先生没有被带到妈妈家里去。他俩一起离开后，美格下楼发现餐桌一片狼藉，是大杂烩餐留下的，心里十分恐怖。洛蒂汇报说，他们吃了很多，谈笑风生，主人还命令她扔掉所有的甜原料，把罐子藏好。

美格想去告诉妈妈，但自知犯错的羞耻感和对约翰的忠诚感阻止了她，约翰是残酷了点，但家事不该外扬。草草收拾了一下屋子后，她把自己穿得漂漂亮亮的，坐在那里等约翰来请求原谅。

不幸的是，约翰没有来，他的看法可不一样。他滴水不漏，把此事当成笑话跟斯科特解释，尽可能为小妻子开脱，同时尽地主之谊盛情款待自己的朋友。即兴的晚餐令客人非常满意，允诺下次再来。但是，约翰很不高兴，虽然没有流露出来。他觉得美格让他陷入了麻烦，还在他急难的时候抛弃了他。说是可以随时带朋友回来，可以自由决定，当他信以为真了，却发了火，还责怪他，把他撂在尴尬的处境中，听凭人笑话，听凭人可怜，这不公平。对，的确不公平！必须让美格知道这一点。用餐期间，他内心深处怒火中烧，但是，当忙乱过去了，朋友送走了，他漫步回家去时，一股柔情袭上心头。“可怜的小东西！她努力想让我高兴，这太难为她了。当然是她错了，可她太年轻。我必须耐心地开导她。”他希望她没有回娘家——他讨厌多嘴，也不希望有人干涉。可是，只要想起这件事他就会生气，而后又担心起美格会哭坏了身体，心也就软了。这促使他加快了步子，决心要平和友好，但坚定不移地，绝对坚定地让她知道，她在什么地方没有尽到做妻子的责任。

美格也同样决心要平和友好，但坚定不移地告诉他做丈夫的责任。她内心里很想跑过去迎接他，请求原谅，接受他的亲吻和安慰。相信他肯定会亲吻她，原谅她。可是，她没有这样做，看见约翰过来了，就装着很自然地开始哼起小调，在摇椅上边摇晃边做着针线活，活像休闲的贵太太坐在豪华的客厅里。

约翰因没有看到一个柔弱的尼俄柏[2]而有点失望，但他觉得自己的尊严需要她先道歉，所以就没吭声，只是步态悠闲地走进来，躺在沙发上，说了句非常切题的话：“亲爱的，我们要走进新时代了。”

“我不反对。”美格用同样令人舒畅的口气回答说。

布鲁克先生抛出几个普遍感兴趣的话题，都被布鲁克太太泼了冷水，话题就此凋萎。约翰走到一扇窗前，翻开报纸，仿佛要埋头于此。美格走到另一扇窗前，继续做她的针线，仿佛新的拖鞋圆花饰物是生活的必需品。两人都不说话，看上去都相当平和与坚定，可两人都感到极不舒服。

“天哪！”美格心想，“婚姻生活真费劲，正如母亲所说的，确实需要无尽的爱心和无尽的耐心。”“母亲”这个词又使她想起了很久以前母亲的其他忠告，那时候自己还不相信，声明不接受。

“约翰是个好男人，不过，他有他的缺点，你必须了解他的缺点，容忍他的缺点，也要看到自己的缺点。他是个很有主见的人，但是，如果你平和地与他讲理，而不是不耐烦地与他对抗，他是不会固执的。他喜欢较真，过分拘泥事实，这是优点，尽管你认为是‘折腾’。千万不要有欺骗他的言行，美格，他就会给你应有的信心和你需要的支持。他有脾气，但不像我们发火过后就没事了，他那寂静的怒火很少发作，可一旦发火起来就很难熄灭。要当心，非常当心，不要引火烧身，和睦与幸福取决于维持他的尊重。注意，如果你俩都有错，要首先道歉。要警惕怄气、误会和牢骚，这些往往会走向伤心后悔。”

美格坐在夕阳下做针线，脑海里回忆起母亲的话语，尤其是最后一句。这是他们之间第一次严重的争执。她回想自己那脱口而出的气话真是又蠢又冲，她的愤怒现在看起来太孩子气了。一想到可怜的约翰回到家里见到的是这么一幅景象，她的心软了。她含着眼泪瞥了他一眼，可他没有看见。她放下手头的活计，站起来，心里想着，我要带头说“请原谅”，可他似乎没有听见。她慢慢地穿过房间，强咽下自尊，站到他的身边，然而，他却连头也不回。有一会儿，她感到自己真的做不到，随后又想：“这是开始。我要尽到自己的责任，做到问心无愧。”她弯下腰，温柔地亲吻丈夫的前额。当然，问题统统解决。悔过的吻胜过所有的语言，约翰马上把她拉过来坐在膝上，温柔地说：

“嘲笑不起眼的小果冻罐太不应该了。原谅我，亲爱的。我再也不会了！”

但他还是接着嘲笑，你瞧他，真的，总有几百次吧。后来，美格也自嘲起来。两人都说这是他们有史以来做得最甜的果冻，因为那小小的家用腌缸长期保存了家庭和睦。

后来，美格特意邀请斯科特来共进晚餐，愉快的款待，她为客人端上一道道精心烹饪的美食。在席间，她表现得既快乐又亲切，气氛搞得很诱人。斯科特先生说，约翰是个幸运的家伙，回家时，他一路上直摇头感叹，单身汉的日子真艰难。

那年的秋天，美格有了新的磨难和经历。萨莉·莫法特与她重叙旧情，经常跑到小屋子里来闲聊，或者邀请“那小可怜”到她的大屋子里去玩一天。美格很乐意，阴沉的天气里她经常感到孤独。家人都很忙，约翰夜晚才回来，她在家里除了做做针线活、看看书，或者随便游荡，没事可做，自然而然要养成外出走走的习惯，与朋友聊聊天。看到萨莉的漂亮东西，她渴望自己也有，经常为此而自怜。萨莉很友好，经常想送她些她爱不释手的小玩意儿，但都被美格拒绝了，她知道约翰不喜欢这样。可是，傻傻的小妇人结果还是做出了令约翰深恶痛绝的事。

她知道丈夫的收入，丈夫信任她，她喜欢这种感觉，他不仅把自己的幸福交给她，还把有些男人更看重的钱托付给她。她知道钱放在哪里，可以随意拿，他只要求把花出去的每一分钱都记个账，每月结算一次，只要求她记住自己是穷人妻。此前，她都做得很好，精打细算，小账本的账目记得很清楚，每个月都不必担心交给他过目。但是那个秋天，大毒蛇钻进了美格的伊甸园，像诱惑许多现代夏娃那样诱惑了她，不是用苹果，而是用衣服。美格不想让人可怜自己，使自己感觉寒酸。贫穷令她恼火，她却羞于承认，于是，就时不时地买些可爱的小东西，尽可能安慰自己，这样，萨莉就不会认为她手头拮据。每买一次东西她都有负罪感，因为这些漂亮的小玩意儿很少是必需品，可这些东西花钱不多，不值得担心，于是，小玩意儿在不知不觉中积少成多，逛街的时候，她不再是消极的浏览者了。

然而，小玩意儿累计的花费超乎想象，月底合计账目，总数大得吓人。那个月约翰很忙，把账目的事就全交给了她，接下来的一个月他出差在外。然而，第三个月他来了个季度大结算，让美格永远忘不了。那次结算的前几天，她做出了一件可怕的事情，良心颇为不安。萨莉一直在购买丝绸，美格很想买一块新的——就买一块漂亮的浅色丝绸，用来做参加聚会时穿的衣服。她那件黑色丝绸服太普通了，薄绸晚装只适合姑娘家。马奇姑婆元旦通常给四姐妹每人二十五美元的红包。只要再等一个月就有这笔钱了，这块可爱的紫罗兰丝绸正在削价，只要她敢拿，她是有这个钱的。约翰总是说，他的就是她的，但是这不仅要花掉还没到手的二十五美元，还要从家庭基金里另外拿出二十五美元，他会认可吗？这是个问题。萨莉怂恿她买，并说要借钱给她，她的好意引诱美格失去了自控。就在这个邪恶的时候，店主举起了可爱的亮闪闪的绸缎匹说：“很便宜，我向你保证，太太。”她应答说：“买下吧。”绸料剪下了，钱也付了，萨莉非常高兴，美格也若无其事地笑了，随之就驱车离开了，那感觉如同偷了东西，警察正在追似的。

回到家里，她想努力缓和内心自责的痛苦，于是摊开那可爱的丝绸。但它这会儿看起来没那么银光闪闪了，而且也不适合她。“五十美元”几个字似乎像图案被印在整幅绸料上。她收了起来，可它还是折磨着她，全然没有马上要穿新衣的快乐，倒是像遇上了挥之不去的傻帽胚的幽灵，让她害怕。那天晚上，约翰拿出账本时，美格的心都沉下去了，结婚以来第一次，她害怕起老公来。那双仁慈的棕色眼睛显得很严厉。尽管他看上去异常高兴，她感觉到他已经发现了，只是不想让她知道。家里的账单都付清了，账本记得很有条理。约翰夸奖了她，正在打开他们称之为“银行”的旧皮夹子。美格很清楚里面没什么钱了，这时，她压住了他的手，神经质地说：

“还没看我的个人开销账呢。”

约翰从不要求看她的个人开支账目，但她总是坚持让他看，常常快意于他看见女人需要的奇怪东西时所表现出来的那种男子气的惊异表情，她要他猜“绲边”是什么，强烈要求他说说“抱紧我[3]”是什么，或者让他感到惊奇：由三朵蔷薇花蕾、一小块天鹅绒，和两根绳子组成的小东西，居然可以是一顶无边女帽，还值六个美元。那天晚上，他看上去好像乐于打听她的花费数目，摆出被她的奢侈吓坏了的神情，他经常这样，因为他为精打细算的妻子感到骄傲。

小账本被慢慢地拿出来，摆在他面前。美格站在他的椅子后面，借口要为他疲劳的额头抚平皱纹。她站在那里，越说心里越慌了：

“亲爱的约翰，我很惭愧，最近我确实太奢侈了。你知道，我经常走动，免不了要买些东西。萨莉建议我买，就买了，我的新年红包可以支付一部分。可是买下来就后悔了，因为我知道你会认为我犯错误了。”

约翰笑起来，把她拉到身边，开心地说：“别躲躲闪闪的。即使买了一双天价靴子，也不会揍你的。我为妻子的脚感到自豪，花八九美元买一双靴子没什么大不了的，靴子好就行。”

那双靴子是上一次买的一件小玩意儿，约翰说话的时候眼睛刚刚落在这笔账上。“噢，他看到那可怕的五十美元会说什么！”美格的心颤抖着。

“比靴子更糟，是丝裙。”她以绝望的镇静说道，希望这最糟糕的局面赶快结束。

“是吗，亲爱的，就像曼塔里尼先生[4]说的，‘该死的总数’是多少？”

这不像是约翰的作风，她知道的，只见他抬起头，双眼直视着她，以前她总是时刻准备迎接他这样的目光，并报之以同样坦率的目光。她翻过账页，同时转过头，手指着总数，这个没有那五十元就已经够糟糕的总数，加了这一笔更让她心惊肉跳。一时间屋子里非常寂静，于是约翰慢慢地说话了——她能感觉到他正竭力克制着自己的不满：

“唔，不知道花五十块钱买一件衣服是不是贵了，如今你还得买些花边裙饰来配吧。”

“衣服还没做呢，没有配花边。”美格轻轻地哀叹道，突然想起还要花钱，她有点不知所措了。

“用二十五码丝绸裹一个小女人似乎多了些吧，但我毫不怀疑，我妻子穿上它，会和内德·莫法特的太太一样漂亮的。”约翰冷冷地说道。

“我知道你生气了，约翰，但我没有办法。我并不想浪费你的钱，可没想到那些小玩意儿加起来那么费钱。一看到萨莉想买什么就买什么，看我不买而可怜我，我就克制不住了。我努力想让自己知足，但这很难，我已厌倦了贫困生活啊。”

最后一句话说得很轻，她以为他没听到，但是他听到了。这句话深深地刺伤了他，因为为了美格他已经放弃了许多享乐。话刚出口，她就恨不得把自己的舌头咬掉。只见约翰把账本推开，站起来，话音有点颤抖地说：“我就是怕这一点。我尽力吧，美格。”如果他责骂她，甚或推搡她，都没像这两句话这样使她心碎。她跑过去紧紧搂住他，流着后悔的眼泪，哭着说：“哦，约翰，我亲爱的、善良的、勤快的男孩，我不是这个意思！这太狠毒、太不忠诚、太忘恩负义了，我怎能说出口！天哪，怎能说出口！”

他很善良，马上就原谅了她，也没有一句责备的话。但美格知道，自己做的事、说的话，是不会被很快遗忘的，尽管他可能再也不会提及此事。她曾经许诺永远爱他，不管是富裕还是贫穷，而现在，她，他的妻子，鲁莽花掉了他赚来的钱后还责备他穷。太可怕了，最糟糕的事情还是约翰从此变得沉默寡言，仿佛什么事也没发生，只是他在城里待得更晚，等她一个人哭着入睡后继续挑灯夜战。一个礼拜的悔恨几乎使美格病倒，又发现约翰取消了定制的新大衣，更使她处于绝望的境地，让人看着怪可怜的。她吃惊地问约翰，为什么改变了主意，约翰只淡淡地回答说：“买不起，亲爱的。”

美格没再说什么。几分钟后，他发现她在过道把脸埋进那件旧大衣里撕心裂肺地哭着。

那天晚上，他们彻夜长谈。美格懂得了丈夫贫困了更值得去爱，因为贫困仿佛使他成了铮铮铁汉，给了他力量勇气去独立奋斗，贫困教会他用温柔的耐心去承受和抚慰他亲人的正常渴望和失败。

第二天，她收起自尊去找萨莉，告诉她实情，请她帮忙买下那块丝绸。善良的莫法特太太欣然把它买下了，后来又当作礼物相送，当然她考虑周到，不是马上就送的。然后，美格订购了大衣。约翰回家了，她穿上了它，问他是否喜欢她的新丝绸礼服。可以想象他会如何作答，他会怎样接受送他的礼物，也可以想象随之而来的是什么样儿的快乐场面。约翰回家早了，美格不再外出闲逛。早晨，满怀幸福的丈夫穿上那件大衣，晚上，被最可心的小妻子亲手脱下。冬去春来，到了仲夏，美格有了新的经历，女人一生中最深切最温柔的经历。

一个礼拜六，兴高采烈的劳里悄悄地溜进斑鸠房的厨房，汉娜一手拿锅，一手拿盖击节相拍，给他一阵铙钹作响的欢迎。

“小妈妈好吗？人都哪里去了？为什么不在我回家之前告诉我？”劳里低声地问。

“那乖乖幸福得像皇后！大家都在楼上欣赏着呢。我们不要驱（飓）风在这里刮。去客厅里等着，我把他们叫下来。”应答有点复杂，汉娜欣喜若狂地转身去了。

不一会儿，乔出现了，得意地捧着搁在一个大枕头上的法兰绒包袱。她神情镇定，眼睛却闪闪放光，说话的声音由于某种抑制的感情而显得有点古怪。

“闭上眼睛，伸出双臂来。”她引诱着说。

劳里急忙退进一个角落，把手放到背后，带着一种哀求的姿势说：“不，谢谢你，宁可不抱，我肯定会把它掉到地上，摔碎的。”

“那你就看不到你的外甥。”乔坚决地说着，转身就要走。

“我抱，我抱！只是弄坏了你负责。”劳里听从命令，勇敢地闭上眼睛，让东西放入怀里。听到乔、艾美、马奇太太、汉娜和约翰发出一阵大笑，他睁开眼睛，发现手里有两个小宝宝，而不是一个。

难怪他们要笑，因为他脸上的表情很滑稽，能逗乐一个贵格会教徒。他站在那里，兴奋地看看两个没有意识的小生命，又看看欢闹的众人，那一副惊讶的表情。这时乔兴奋地坐在地上尖叫着。

“双胞胎，天哪！”一时间他只说出这么一句话，接着他转向女人们求救，脸上的表情又滑稽又可怜，“快抱走，求求你们啦！我要笑了，会摔到地上的。”

约翰救过自己的宝贝，一手抱一个，在房间里踱来踱去，好像已经掌握了育婴奥秘，而劳里则笑得眼泪都流下了脸颊。

“这是本季最搞笑的事，不是吗？我不让大家告诉你，打定主意要让你大吃一惊，庆幸自己做到了。”乔喘过气来后说。

“生来从没有这么吃惊过。很可笑吧？两个都是男孩吗？都给取了什么名字？让我再看一眼。乔，扶我一把，天哪，想不到好事成双啊。”劳里回答着，盯着婴儿，那神态就像一只仁慈的纽芬兰大狗看着一对小猫。

“一男一女。很漂亮吧？”爸爸得意地说，望着那蠕动的红皮肤的婴孩愉快地微笑着，仿佛那是羽毛未丰的天使。

“是我见过的最棒的孩子。哪一个是男，哪一个是女？”劳里像井水吊桶杆一样，弯腰仔细观察起两个神童宝贝。

“艾美用法国方式给男孩系上蓝丝带，给女孩系上粉丝带，方便辨认。还有，一个蓝眼睛，一个棕色眼睛。特迪舅舅，亲亲他们。”乔调皮地说。

“恐怕他们不喜欢亲。”劳里说，对这种事总是异乎寻常的难为情。

“他们当然喜欢亲，已经很习惯了。现在就亲，先生！”乔命令道，生怕他会建议一个代理人。

劳里撮起腮帮，遵乔之命，小心翼翼地在每一张小脸上啄了一下，那样子又引来一阵笑声，却把小宝贝们弄哭了。

“你看，早就知道他们不喜欢亲！这个是男孩，你看他在踢腿，挥舞着拳头很像那么回事。嘿嘿，小布鲁克，与你同级别的男人较量拳头去，行吗？”劳里的脸上挨了来回乱打的一小拳，高兴得叫起来。

“男孩准备叫约翰·劳伦斯，女孩可以随母亲和外婆的，叫玛格丽特。我们管她叫戴茜，这样就不会有两个美格了，我想如果没有更好的名字，小男孩就叫杰克吧。”艾美带着当姨妈的神气兴致说道。

“叫他戴米约翰[5]，简称戴米。”劳里说。

“戴茜和戴米——就这么叫！就知道特迪会取名。”乔鼓起掌来。

这一次特迪当然成功了，因为两个孩子到了书尾还叫“戴茜”和“戴米”。

* * *

[1]《圣经》中忙碌的家庭妇女。

[2]希腊神话人物，现在引申指因丧失子女而悲伤度日的妇人。

[3]一种紧身羊毛背心。

[4]狄更斯小说人物，乱花钱的角色。

[5]意思是小约翰。

CHAPTER 28 DOMESTIC EXPERIENCES

LIKE MOST other young matrons, Meg began her married life with the determination to be a model housekeeper. John should find home a paradise, he should always see a smiling face, should fare sumptuously every day, and never know the loss of a button. She brought so much love, energy, and cheerfulness to the work that she could not but succeed, in spite of some obstacles. Her paradise was not a tranquil one, for the little woman fussed, was overanxious to please, and bustled about like a true Martha, cumbered with many cares. She was too tired, sometimes, even to smile, John grew dyspeptic after a course of dainty dishes and ungratefully demanded plain fare. As for buttons, she soon learned to wonder where they went, to shake her head over the carelessness of men, and to threaten to make him sew them on himself,and see if his work would stand impatient and clumsy fingers any better than hers.

They were very happy, even after they discovered that they couldn't live on love alone. John did not find Meg's beauty diminished, though she beamed at him from behind the familiar coffeepot. Nor did Meg miss any of the romance from the daily parting, when her husband followed up his kiss with the tender inquiry, “Shall I send some veal or mutton for dinner, darling? ” The little house ceased to be a glorified bower, but it became a home, and the young couple soon felt that it was a change for the better. At first they played keephouse, and frolicked over it like children; then John took steadily to business, feeling the cares of the head of a family upon his shoulders; and Meg laid by her cambric wrappers, put on a big apron, and fell to work, as before said, with more energy than discretion.

While the cooking mania lasted she went through Mrs. Cornelius's Receipt Book as if it were a mathematical exercise, working out the problems with patience and care. Sometimes her family were invited in to help eat up a too bounteous feast of successes, or Lotty would be privately dispatched with a batch of failures, which were to be concealed from all eyes in the convenient stomachs of the little Hummels. An evening with John over the account books usually produced a temporary lull in the culinary enthusiasm, and a frugal fit would ensue, during which the poor man was put through a course of bread pudding, hash, and warmed-over coffee, which tried his soul, although he bore it with praiseworthy fortitude. Before the golden mean was found, however, Meg added to her domestic possessions what young couples seldom get on long without—a family jar.

Fired a with housewifely wish to see her storeroom stocked with homemade preserves, she undertook to put up her own currant jelly. John was requested to order home a dozen or so of little pots and an extra quantity of sugar, for their own currants were ripe and were to be attended to at once. As John firmly believed that “my wife” was equal to anything, and took a natural pride in her skill, he resolved that she should be gratified, and their only crop of fruit laid by in a most pleasing form for winter use. Home came four dozen delightful little pots, half a barrel of sugar, and a small boy to pick the currants for her. With her pretty hair tucked into a little cap, arms bared to the elbow, and a checked apron which had a coquettish look in spite of the bib, the young housewife fell to work, feeling no doubts about her success, for hadn't she seen Hannah do it hundreds of times? The array of pots rather amazed her at first, but John was so fond of jelly, and the nice little jars would look so well on the top shelf, that Meg resolved to fill them all, and spent a long day picking, boiling, straining, and fussing over her jelly. She did her best, she asked advice of Mrs. Cornelius, she racked her brain to remember what Hannah did that she left undone, she reboiled, resugared, and restrained, but that dreadful stuff wouldn't jell.

She longed to run home, bib and all, and ask Mother to lend her a hand, but John and she had agreed that they would never annoy anyone with their private worries, experiments, or quarrels. They had laughed over that last word as if the idea it suggested was a most preposterous one; but they had held to their resolve, and whenever they could get on without help they did so, and no one interfered, for Mrs. March had advised the plan. So Meg wrestled alone with the refractory sweetmeats all that hot summer day, and at five o'clock sat down in her topsy-turvy kitchen, wrung her bedaubed hands, lifted up her voice and wept.

Now, in the first flush of the new life, she had often said, “My husband shall always feel free to bring a friend home whenever he likes. I shall always be prepared. There shall be no flurry, no scolding, no discomfort, but a neat house, a cheerful wife, and a good dinner. John,dear, never stop to ask my leave, invite whom you please, and be sure of a welcome from me.”

How charming that was, to be sure! John quite glowed with pride to hear her say it, and felt what a blessed thing it was to have a superior wife. But, although they had had company from time to time, it never happened to be unexpected, and Meg had never had an opportunity to distinguish herself till now. It always happens so in this vale of tears, there is an inevitability about such things which we can only wonder at, deplore, and bear as we best can.

If John had not forgotten all about the jelly, it really would have been unpardonable in him to choose that day, of all the days in the year, to bring a friend home to dinner unexpectedly. Congratulating himself that a handsome repast had been ordered that morning, feeling sure that it would be ready to the minute, and indulging in pleasant anticipations of the charming effect it would produce, when his pretty wife came running out to meet him, he escorted his friend to his mansion, with the irrepressible satisfaction of a young host and husband.

It is a world of disappointments, as John discovered when he reached the Dovecote. The front door usually stood hospitably open. Now it was not only shut, but locked, and yesterday's mud still adorned the steps. The parlor windows were closed and curtained, no picture of the pretty wife sewing on the piazza, in white, with a distracting little bow in her hair, or a bright-eyed hostess, smiling a shy welcome as she greeted her guest. Nothing of the sort, for not a soul appeared but a sanginary-looking boy asleep under the current bushes.

“I'm afraid something has happened. Step into the garden—Scott, while I look up Mrs. Brooke, ” said John, alarmed at the silence and solitude.

Round the house he hurried, led by a pungent smell of burned sugar, and Mr. Scott strolled after him, with a queer look on his face. He paused discreetly at a distance when Brooke disappeared, but he could both see and hear, and being a bachelor, enjoyed the prospect mightily.

In the kitchen reigned confusion and despair; one edition of jelly was trickled from pot to pot, another lay upon the floor, and a third was burning gaily on the stove. Lotty, with Teutonic phlegm, was calmly eating bread and currant wine, for the jelly was still in a hopelessly liquid state, while Mrs. Brooke, with her apron over her head, sat sobbing dismally.

“My dearest girl, what is the matter? ” cried John, rushing in, with awful visions of scalded hands, sudden news of affliction, and secret consternation at the thought of the guest in the garden.

“Oh, John, I am so tired and hot and cross and worried! I've been at it till I'm all worn out.Do come and help me or I shall die! ”And the exhausted housewife cast herself upon his breast, giving him a sweet welcome in every sense of the word, for her pinafore had been baptized at the same time as the floor.

“What worries you dear? Has anything dreadful happened? ” asked the anxious John, tenderly kissing the crown of the little cap, which was all askew.

“Yes, ” sobbed Meg despairingly.

“Tell me quick, then. Don't cry. I can bear anything better than that. Out with it, love.”

“The— the jelly won't jell and I don't know what to do! ”

John Brooke laughed then as he never dared to laugh afterward, and the derisive Scott smiled involuntarily as he heard the hearty peal, which put the finishing stroke to poor Meg's woe.

“Is that all? Fling it out of the window, and don't bother any more about it. I'll buy you quarts if you want it, but for heaven's sake don't have hysterics, for I've brought Jack Scott home to dinner, and—”

John got no further, for Meg cast him off, and clasped her hands with a tragic gesture as she fell into a chair, exclaiming in a tone of mingled indignation, reproach, and dismay—

“A man to dinner, and everything in a mess! John Brooke, how could you do such a thing? ”

“Hush, he's in the garden! I forgot the confounded jelly, but it can't be helped now, ” said John, surveying the prospect with an anxious eye.

“You ought to have sent word, or told me this morning, and you ought to have remembered how busy I was, ” continued Meg petulantly, for even turtledoves will peck when ruffled.

“I didn't know it this morning, and there was no time to send word, for I met him on the way out. I never thought of asking leave, when you have always told me to do as I liked. I never tried it before, and hang me if I ever do again! ” added John, with an aggrieved air.

“I should hope not! Take him away at once. I can't see him, and there isn't any dinner.”

“Well, I like that! Where's the beef and vegetables I sent home, and the pudding you promised? ” cried John, rushing to the larder.

“I hadn't time to cook anything. I meant to dine at Mother's. I'm sorry, but I was so busy, ”and Meg's tears began again.

John was a mild man, but he was human; and after a long day's work to come home tired, hungry, and hopeful, to find a chaotic house, an empty table, and a cross wife was not exactly conducive to repose of mind or manner. He restrained himself, however, and the little squall would have blown over, but for one unlucky word.

“It's a scrape, I acknowledge, but if you will lend a hand, we'll pull through and have a good time yet. Don't cry, dear, but just exert yourself a bit, and fix us up something to eat. We're both as hungry as hunters, so we shan't mind what it is. Give us the cold meat, and bread and cheese; we won't ask for jelly.”

He meant it to be a good-natured joke, but that one word sealed his fate.Meg thought it was too cruel to hint about her sad failure,and the last atom of patience vanished as he spoke.

“You must get yourself out of the scrape as you can. I'm too used up to ‘exert' myself for anyone. It's like a man to propose a bone and vulgar bread and cheese for company. I won't have anything of the sort in my house. Take that Scott up to Mother's, and tell him I'm away, sick, dead—anything. I won't see him, and you two can laugh at me and my jelly as much as you like. You won't have anything else here.” And having delivered her defiance all on one breath, Meg cast away her pinafore and precipitately left the field to bemoan herself in her own room.

What those two creatures did in her absence, she never knew; but Mr. Scott was not taken “up to Mother's, ” and when Meg descended, after they had strolled away together, she found traces of a promiscuous lunch which filled her with horror. Lotty reported that they had eaten “a much, and greatly laughed, and the master bid her throw away all the sweet stuff, and hide the pots.”

Meg longed to go and tell Mother, but a sense of shame at her own shortcomings, of loyalty to John, “who might be cruel, but nobody should know it, ” restrained her, and after a summary cleaning up, she dressed herself prettily, and sat down to wait for John to come and be forgiven.

Unfortunately, John didn't come, not seeing the matter in that light. He had carried it off as a good joke with Scott, excused his little wife as well as he could, and played the host so hospitably that his friend enjoyed the impromptu dinner, and promised to come again, but John was angry, though he did not show it, he felt that Meg had deserted him in his hour of need. “It wasn't fair to tell a man to bring folks home any time, with perfect freedom, and when he took you at your word, to flame up and blame him, and leave him in the lurch, to be laughed at or pitied. No, by George, it wasn't! And Meg must know it.” He had fumed inwardly during the feast, but when the flurry was over and he strolled home after seeing Scott off, a milder mood came over him. “Poor little thing! It was hard upon her when she tried so heartily to please me. She was wrong, of course, but then she was young. I must be patient and teach her.” He hoped she had not gone home—he hated gossip and interference. For a minute he was ruffled again at the mere thought of it; and then the fear that Meg would cry herself sick softened his heart, and sent him on at a quicker pace, resolving to be calm and kind, but firm, quite firm, and show her where she had failed in her duty to her spouse.

Meg likewise resolved to be“calm and kind,but firm, ”and show him his duty. She longed to run to meet him, and beg pardon, and be kissed and comforted, as she was sure of being, but, of course, she did nothing of the sort, and when she saw John coming, began to hum quite naturally, as she rocked and sewed, like a lady of leisure in her best parlor.

John was a little disappointed not to find a tender Niobe, but feeling that his dignity demanded the first apology, he made none, only came leisurely in and laid himself upon the sofa with the singularly relevant remark, “We are going to have a new moon, my dear.”

“I've no objection” was Meg's equally soothing remark.

A few other topics of general interest were introduced by Mr. Brooke and wet-blanketed by Mrs. Brooke, and conversation languished. John went to one window, unfolded his paper, and wrapped himself in it, figuratively speaking. Meg went to the other window, and sewed as if new rosettes for slippers were among the necessaries of life. Neither spoke; both looked quite “calm and firm, ” and both felt desperately uncomfortable.

“Oh, dear, ” thought Meg, “married life is very trying, and does need infinite patience as well as love, as Mother says.” The word “Mother”suggested other maternal counsels given long ago, and received with unbelieving protests.

“John is a good man, but he has his faults, and you must learn to see and bear with them, remembering your own. He is very decided, but never will be obstinate, if you reason kindly, not oppose impatiently. He is very accurate, and particular about the truth—a good trait, though you call him‘fussy'. Never deceive him by look or word, Meg, and he will give you the confidence you deserve, the support you need. He has a temper, not like ours—one flash and then all over—but the white, still anger that is seldom stirred, but once kindled is hard to quench. Be careful, be very careful, not to wake his anger against yourself, for peace and happiness depend on keeping his respect. Watch yourself, be the first to ask pardon if you both err, and guard against the little piques, misunderstandings, and hasty words that often pave the way for bitter sorrow and regret.”

These words came back to Meg, as she sat sewing in the sunset, especially the last. This was the first serious disagreement; her own hasty speeches sounded both silly and unkind, as she recalled them, her own anger looked childish now, and thoughts of poor John coming home to such a scene quite melted her heart. She glanced at him with tears in her eyes, but he did not see them. She put down her work and got up, thinking,“I will be the first to say, ‘Forgive me, '” but he did not seem to hear her. She went very slowly across the room, for pride was hard to swallow, and stood by him, but he did not turn his head. For a minute she felt as if she really couldn't do it, then came the thought, “This is the beginning. I'll do my part, and have nothing to reproach myself with, ” and stooping down, she softly kissed her husband on the forehead. Of course that settled it. The penitent kiss was better than a world of words, and John had her on his knee in a minute, saying tenderly—

“It was too bad to laugh at the poor little jelly pots. Forgive me, dear. I never will again! ”

But he did, oh bless you, yes, hundreds of times, and so did Meg, both declaring that it was the sweetest jelly they ever made, for family peace was preserved in that little family jar.

After this, Meg had Mr. Scott to dinner by special invitation, and served him up a pleasant feast without a cooked wife for the first course; on which occasion she was so gay and gracious, and made everything go off so charmingly, that Mr. Scott told John he was a lucky fellow, and shook his head over the hardships of bachelorhood all the way home.

In the autumn, new trials and experiences came to Meg. Sallie Moffat renewed her friendship, was always running out for a dish of gossip at the little house, or inviting “that poor dear” to come in and spend the day at the big house. It was pleasant, for in dull weather Meg often felt lonely;all were busy at home, John absent till night, and nothing to do but sew, or read, or potter about. So it naturally fell out that Meg got into the way of gadding and gossiping with her friend. Seeing Sallie's pretty things made her long for such, and pity herself because she had not got them. Sallie was very kind, and often offered her the coveted trifles, but Meg declined them, knowing that John wouldn't like it, and then this foolish little woman went and did what John disliked even worse.

She knew her husband's income, and she loved to feel that he trusted her, not only with his happiness, but what some men seem to value more—his money. She knew where it was, was free to take what she liked, and all he asked was that she should keep account of every penny, pay bills once a month, and remember that she was a poor man's wife. Till now she had done well, been prudent and exact, kept her little account books neatly, and showed them to him monthly without fear. But that autumn the serpent got into Meg's paradise, and tempted her like many a modern Eve, not with apples, but with dress. Meg didn't like to be pitied and made to feel poor;it irritated her, but she was ashamed to confess it, and now and then she tried to console herself by buying something pretty, so that Sallie needn't think she had to economize. She always felt wicked after it, for the pretty things were seldom necessaries; but then they cost so little, it wasn't worth worrying about, so the trifles increased unconsciously, and in the shopping excursions she was no longer a passive looker-on.

But the trifles cost more than one would imagine, and when she cast up her accounts at the end of the month the sum total rather scared her. John was busy that month and left the bills to her, the next month he was absent, but the third he had a grand quarterly settling up, and Meg never forgot it. A few days before she had done a dreadful thing, and it weighed upon her conscience. Sallie had been buying silks, and Meg longed for a new one—just a handsome light one for parties, her black silk was so common, and thin things for evening wear were only proper for girls. Aunt March usually gave the sisters a present of twenty-five dollars apiece at New Year's; that was only a month to wait, and here was a lovely violet silk going at a bargain, and she had the money, if she only dared to take it. John always said what was his was hers, but would he think it right to spend not only the prospective five-and-twenty, but another five-and-twenty out of the household fund? That was the question. Sallie had urged her to do it, had offered to lend the money, and with the best intentions in life had tempted Meg beyond her strength. In an evil moment the shopman held up the lovely, shimmering folds, and said, “A bargain, I assure, you, ma'am.”She answered, “I'll take it, ” and it was cut off and paid for, and Sallie had exulted, and she had laughed as if it were a thing of no consequence, and driven away, feeling as if she had stolen something, and the police were after her.

When she got home, she tried to assuage the pangs of remorse by spreading forth the lovely silk, but it looked less silvery now, didn't become her, after all, and the words “fifty dollars” seemed stamped like a pattern down each breadth. She put it away, but it haunted her, not delightfully as a new dress should, but dreadfully like the ghost of a folly that was not easily laid. When John got out his books that night, Meg's heart sank, and for the first time in her married life, she was afraid of her husband. The kind, brown eyes looked as if they could be stern, and though he was unusually merry, she fancied he had found her out, but didn't mean to let her know it. The house bills were all paid, the books all in order. John had praised her, and was undoing the old pocketbook which they called the “bank”, when Meg, knowing that it was quite empty, stopped his hand, saying nervously—

“You haven't seen my private expense book yet.”

John never asked to see it; but she always insisted on his doing so, and used to enjoy his masculine amazement at the queer things women wanted, and made him guess what “piping” was, demand fiercely the meaning of a“hug-me-tight”, or wonder how a little thing composed of three rosebuds, a bit of velvet, and a pair of strings, could possibly be a bonnet, and cost six dollars. That night he looked as if he would like the fun of quizzing her figures and pretending to be horrified at her extravagance, as he often did, being particularly pro