第 27 节
作者:寻找山吹      更新:2022-11-28 19:12      字数:9321
  reached the tracks; which perilous spot seemed to justify him in retaining
  his   hold throughout   the  remainder of   the  stroll。       Usually  they  lost   Cora
  and Scotty without having been conscious of their loss。
  Their talk?      The girls and boys that each knew; the day's happenings
  at   factory   and   express   office;   next   Wednesday   night's   dance   up   in   the
  Chute;     and   always     the  possibility    of   Chuck's    leaving    the   truck   and
  assuming the managership of the office。
  〃Don't   let   this   go   any   further;   see? But   I   heard   it   straight   that   old
  Benke is going to be transferred to Fond du Lac。               And if he is; why; I step
  in; see?     Benke's got a girl in Fondy; and he's been pluggin' to get there。
  Gee; maybe I won't be glad when he does!〃                 A little silence。     〃Will you
  be glad; Tess?      Hm?〃
  Tess   felt   herself   glowing   and   shivering   as   the   big   hand   closed   more
  tightly on her arm。       〃Me?      Why; sure I'll be pleased to see you get a job
  that's coming to you by rights; and that'll get you better pay; and all。〃
  But she knew what he meant; and he knew she knew。
  No more of that now。         Chuckgone。        Scottygone。       All the boys at
  the watchworks; all the fellows in the neighborhoodgone。                    At first she
  hadn't    minded。     It   was    exciting。    You    kidded    them    at  first:   〃Well;
  believe me; Chuck; if you shoot the way you play ball; you're a gone goon
  already。〃
  〃All you got to do; Scotty; is to stick that face of yours up over the top
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  of   the   trench   and   the  Germans'll     die  of  fright  and   save   you   wasting
  bullets。〃
  There was a great knitting of socks and sweaters and caps。                   Tessie's
  big… knuckled; capable fingers made you dizzy; they flew so fast。                  Chuck
  was outfitted as for a polar expedition。            Tess took half a day off to bid
  him good…by。       They marched down Grand Avenue; that first lot of them;
  in their everyday suits and hats; with their shiny yellow suitcases and their
  pasteboard boxes in their hands; sheepish; red…faced; awkward。                    In their
  eyes; though; a certain look。         And so off for Camp Sherman; their young
  heads sticking   out of   the  car windows in clustersblack;  yellow;  brown;
  red。    But for each woman on the depot platform there was just one head。
  Tessie   saw   a   blurred   blond   one   with   a   misty   halo   around   it。 A   great
  shouting and waving of handkerchiefs:
  〃Good…by!       Good…by!       Write; now!       Be sure!     Mebbe you can get
  off in a week; for a visit。      Good…by!       Good〃
  They were gone。         Their voices came back to the crowd on the depot
  platform   high;   clear   young   voices;   almost   like   the   voices   of   children;
  shouting。
  Well; you wrote lettersfat; bulging lettersand in turn you received
  equally plump envelopes with a red emblem in one corner。
  You sent boxes of homemade fudge (nut variety) and cookies and the
  more durable forms of cake。
  Then; unaccountably; Chuck was whisked all the way to California。
  He   was   furious   at   parting   with   his   mates;   and   his   indignation   was
  expressed      in  his  letters  to  Tessie。   She    sympathized      with   him   in  her
  replies。    She tried to make light of it; but there was a little clutch of terror
  in it; too。   California! Might as well send a person to the end of the world
  while they were about it。        Two months of that。        Then; inexplicably again;
  Chuck's letters bore the astounding postmark of New York。                  She thought;
  in a panic; that he was Franceward bound; but it turned out not to be so。
  Not yet。     Chuck's letters were taking on a cosmopolitan tone。              〃Well;〃 he
  wrote; 〃I guess the little old town is as dead as ever。            It seems funny you
  being   right   there   all   this   time   and   I've   traveled   from   the Atlantic   to   the
  Pacific。    Everybody treats me swell。           You ought to seen some of those
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  California houses。       They make Hatton's place look like a dump。〃
  The    girls;  Cora   and   Tess   and    the  rest;  laughed    and   joked   among
  themselves   and   assured   one   another;   with   a   toss   of   the   head;   that   they
  could have a good time without the fellas。            They didn't need boys around。
  They gave parties; and they were not a success。              There was one of the
  type known as a stag。          〃Some hen party!〃 they all said。            They danced;
  and   sang   〃Over   There。〃      They   had   ice   cream   and   chocolate   layer   cake
  and went home in great hilarity; with their hands on each other's shoulders;
  still singing。
  But the thing was a failure; and they knew it。             Next day; at the lunch
  hour and in the washroom; there was a little desultory talk about the stag。
  But the meat of such an aftergathering is contained in phrases such as 〃I
  says to him〃and 〃He says to me。〃              They wasted little conversation on
  the stag。    It was much more exciting to exhibit letters on blue…lined paper
  with   the   red   emblem   at   the   top。  Chuck's   last   letter   had   contained   the
  news of his sergeancy。
  Angie      Hatton;    home     from    the    East;   was    writing    letters;   too。
  Everyone in Chippewa knew that。              She wrote on that new art paper with
  the gnawed… looking edges and stiff as a newly laundered cuff。                    But the
  letters   which   she   awaited   so   eagerly   were   written   on   the   same   sort   of
  paper as were those Tessie had from Chuckblue…lined; cheap in quality。
  A New York fellow; Chippewa learned; an aviator。                  They knew; too; that
  young Hatton was an infantry lieutenant somewhere in the East。                      These
  letters were not from him。
  Ever since her home…coming; Angie had been sewing at the Red Cross
  shop on Grand Avenue。            Chippewa boasted two Red Cross shops。                 The
  Grand Avenue   shop   was   the   society  shop。         The   East   End   crowd   sewed
  there; capped;  veiled; apronedand unapproachable。                 Were   your   fingers
  ever   so   deft;   your   knowledge   of   seams   and   basting   mathematical;   your
  skill with that complicated garment known as a pneumonia jacket uncanny;
  if you did not belong to the East End set; you did not sew at the Grand
  Avenue   shop。      No   matter   how   grossly   red   the   blood   which   the   Grand
  Avenue   bandages   and   pads   were   ultimately   to   stanch;   the   liquid   in   the
  fingers that rolled and folded them was pure cerulean。
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  Tessie and her crowd had never thought of giving any such service to
  their country。     They spoke of the Grand Avenue workers as 〃that stinkin'
  bunch。〃     Yet each one of the girls was capable of starting a blouse in an
  emergency on Saturday night and finishing it in time for a Sunday picnic;
  buttonholes   and   all。   Their   help   might   have   been   invaluable。    It   never
  was asked。
  Without     warning;    Chuck    came    home    on   three  days'   furlough。    It
  meant that he was bound for France right enough this time。                  But Tessie
  didn't care。
  〃I don't care where you're goin';〃 she said exultantly; her eyes lingering
  on    the  stocky;   straight;  powerful     figure  in  its  rather  ill…fitting  khaki。
  〃You're here now。       That's enough。       Ain't you tickled to be home; Chuck?
  Gee!〃     ‘
  ‘I'll say;〃 responded Chuck。        But even he seemed to detect some lack
  in his tone and words。       He elaborated somewhat shamefacedly:
  〃Sure。    It's  swell   to  be   home。    But    I  don't  know。    After    you've
  traveled   around;  and   come   back;   things look so   kind of   little  to   you。   I
  don't   knowkind   of〃     He  floundered   about;  at   a loss   for  expression。
  Then   tried   again:    〃Now;   take   Hatton's   place;   for   example。    I   always
  used to think it was a regular palace; but; gosh; you ought to see places
  where I was asked to in San Francisco and around there。               Why; they was…
  …wereenough   to   make   the   Hatton   house   look   like   a   shack。  Swimmin'
  pools of white marble; and acres of yard like a