Читать книгу Хорошие жёны / Good wives. Уровень 3 - Луиза Мэй Олкотт, Луиза Мэй Олкотт, Mybook Classics - Страница 11

New York, November

Dear Mummy and Beth,

I’m going to write you a volume. I have may things to tell.

Mrs. Kirke welcomed me so kindly I felt at home at once, even in that big house full of strangers. She gave me a funny little parlor – all she had, but there is a stove in it, and a nice table in a sunny window. I can sit here and write whenever I like.

“Now, my dear, make yourself at home,” said Mrs. K., “There are some pleasant people in the house if you feel sociable, and your evenings are always free. Come to me if anything goes wrong, and be as happy as you can.”

As I went downstairs soon after, I saw something I liked. The flights[27] are very long in this tall house. As I stood waiting at the head of the third one for a little servant girl to show up, I saw a gentleman come along behind her, take the heavy coal out of her hand, carry it all the way up, put it down at a door nearby, and walk away, saying, with a kind nod and a foreign accent,

“It goes better so. The little back is too young to such heaviness.”

Wasn’t it good of him? I like such things, for as Father says, trifles show character. When I mentioned it to Mrs. K., that evening, she laughed, and said,

“That must have been Professor Bhaer, he always does things of that sort.”

Mrs. K. told me he was from Berlin, very learned and good, but poor as a church mouse, and gives lessons to support himself and two little orphan nephews whom he is educating here, according to the wishes of his sister, who married an American. I mean to peep at him, and then I’ll tell you how he looks. He’s almost forty, so it’s no harm, mummy.

I shall keep a journal-letter, and send it once a week, so goodnight, and more tomorrow.

Tuesday

The children were very noisy and I really thought to shake them. Some good angel inspired me to try gymnastics, and soon they were glad to sit down and keep still. After luncheon, the servant took them out for a walk, and I went to my needlework.

Suddenly the parlor door opened and shut, and someone began to hum, “Kennst Du Das Land[28]”, like a big bumblebee. It was dreadfully improper, I know, but I couldn’t resist the temptation, and lifted one end of the curtain before the glass door, and peeped in.

Professor Bhaer was there, and while he arranged his books, I took a good look at him. A regular German-rather stout, with brown hair all over his head, a bushy beard, good nose, the kindest eyes I ever saw, and a splendid big voice. His clothes were rusty, his hands were large, and he had beautiful teeth. He looked like a gentleman, though two buttons were off his coat and there was a patch on one shoe. He went to the window to turn the hyacinth bulbs toward the sun, and stroke the cat, who received him like an old friend. Then he smiled, and when a tap came at the door, said in a loud, brisk tone,