Mr. John Philip Johnson shut his front door behind him and went down his front steps into the bright morning with a feeling that all was well with the world on this best of all days, and wasn't the sun warm and good, and didn't his shoes feel comfortable after the resoling, and he knew that he had undoubtedly chosen the very precise tie that belonged with the day and the sun and his comfortable feet, and, after all, wasn't the world just a wonderful place? In spite of the fact that he was a small man, and though the tie was perhaps a shade vivid, Mr. Johnson radiated a feeling of well-being as he went down the steps and onto the dirty sidewalk, and he smiled at people who passed him, and some of them even smiled back. He stopped at the newsstand on the corner and bought his paper, saying “Good morning” with real conviction to the man who sold him the paper and the two or three other people who were lucky enough to be buying papers when Mr. Johnson skipped up. He remembered to fill his pockets with candy and peanuts, and then he set out to get himself uptown. He stopped in a flower shop and bought a carnation for his buttonhole, and stopped almost immediately afterward to give the carnation to a small child in a carriage, who looked at him dumbly, and then smiled, and Mr. Johnson smiled, and the child's mother looked at Mr. Johnson for a minute and then smiled too.
When he had gone several blocks uptown, Mr. Johnson cut across the avenue and went along a side street, chosen at random; he did not follow the same route every morning, but preferred to pursue his eventful way in wide detours, more like a puppy than a man intent upon business. It happened this morning that halfway down the block a moving van was parked, and the furniture from an upstairs apartment stood half on the sidewalk, half on the steps, while an amused group of people loitered, examining the scratches on the tables and the worn spots on the chairs, and a harassed woman, trying to watch a young child and the movers and the furniture all at the same time, gave the clear impression of endeavoring to shelter her private life from the people staring at her belongings. Mr Johnson stopped, and for a moment joined the crowd, then he came forward and, touching his hat civilly, said, “Perhaps I can keep an eye on your little boy for you?”
The woman turned and glared at him distrustfully, and Mr. Johnson added hastily, “We'll sit right here on the steps.” He beckoned to the little boy, who hesitated and then responded agreeably to Mr. Johnson's genial smile. Mr. Johnson took out a handful of peanuts from his pocket and sat on the steps with the boy, who at first refused the peanuts on the grounds that his mother did not allow him to accept food from strangers; Mr. Johnson said that probably his mother had not intended peanuts to be included, since elephants at the circus ate them, and the boy considered, and then agreed solemnly. They sat on the steps cracking peanuts in a comradely fashion, and Mr. Johnson said, “So you're moving?”
“Yep,” said the boy.
“Where you going?”
“Vermont.”
“Nice place. Plenty of snow there. Maple sugar, too; you like maple sugar?”
“Sure.”
“Plenty of maple sugar in Vermont. You going to live on a farm?”
“Going to live with Grandpa.”
“Grandpa like peanuts?”
“Sure.”
“Ought to take him some,” said Mr. Johnson, reaching into his pocket. “Just you and Mommy going?”
“Yep.”
“Tell you what,” Mr. Johnson said. “You take some peanuts to eat on the train.”
The boy's mother, after glancing at them frequently, had seemingly decided that Mr. Johnson was trustworthy, because she had devoted herself wholeheartedly to seeing that the movers did not—what movers rarely do, but every housewife believes they will—crack a leg from her good table, or set a kitchen chair down on a lamp. Most of the furniture was loaded by now, and she was deep in that nervous stage when she knew there was something she had forgotten to pack—hidden away in the back of a closet somewhere, or left at a neighbor's and forgotten, or on the clothesline—and was trying to remember under stress what it was.
“This all, lady?” the chief mover said, completing her dismay.
Uncertainly, she nodded.
“Want to go on the truck with the furniture, sonny?” the mover asked the boy, and laughed. The boy laughed, too, and said to Mr. Johnson, “I guess I'll have a good time at Vermont.”
“Fine time,” said Mr. Johnson, and stood up. “Have one more peanut before you go,” he said to the boy.
The boy's mother said to Mr. Johnson, “Thank you so much; it was a great help to me.”
“Nothing at all,” said Mr. Johnson gallantly. “Where in Vermont are you going?”
The mother looked at the little boy accusingly, as though he had given away a secret of some importance, and said unwillingly, “Greenwich.”
“Lovely town,” said Mr. Johnson. He took out a card, and wrote a name on the back. “Very good friend of mine lives in Greenwich,” he said. “Call on him for anything you need. His wife makes the best doughnuts in town,” he added soberly to the little boy.
“Swell,” said the little boy.
“Goodbye,” said Mr. Johnson.
He went on, stepping happily with his new-shod feet, feeling the warm sun on his back and on the top of his head. Halfway down the block he met a stray dog and fed him a peanut.
At the corner, where another wide avenue faced him, Mr. Johnson decided to go on uptown again. Moving with comparative laziness, he was passed on either side by people hurrying and frowning, and people brushed past him going the other way, clattering along to get somewhere quickly. Mr. Johnson stopped on every corner and waited patiently for the light to change, and he stepped out of the way of anyone who seemed to be in any particular hurry, but one young lady came too fast for him, and crashed wildly into him when he stooped to pat a kitten which had run out onto the sidewalk from an apartment house and was now unable to get back through the rushing feet.
“Excuse me,” said the young lady, trying frantically to pick up Mr. Johnson and hurry on at the same time, “terribly sorry.”
The kitten, regardless now of danger, raced back to its home. “Perfectly all right,” said Mr. Johnson, adjusting himself carefully. “You seem to be in a hurry.”
“Of course I'm in a hurry,” said the young lady. “I'm late.”
She was extremely cross, and the frown between her eyes seemed well on its way to becoming permanent. She had obviously awakened late, because she had not spent any extra time in making herself look pretty, and her dress was plain and unadorned with collar or brooch, and her lipstick was noticeably crooked. She tried to brush past Mr. Johnson, but, risking her suspicious displeasure, he took her arm and said, “Please wait.”
“Look,” she said ominously, “I ran into you, and your lawyer can see my lawyer and I will gladly pay all damages and all inconveniences suffered therefrom, but please this minute let me go because I am late.”
“Late for what?” said Mr. Johnson; he tried his winning smile on her but it did no more than keep her, he suspected, from knocking him down again.
“Late for work,” she said between her teeth. “Late for my employment. I have a job, and if I am late I lose exactly so much an hour and I cannot really afford what your pleasant conversation is costing me, be it ever so pleasant.”
“I'll pay for it,” said Mr. Johnson. Now, these were magic words, not necessarily because they were true, or because she seriously expected Mr. Johnson to pay for anything, but because Mr. Johnson's flat statement, obviously innocent of irony, could not be, coming from Mr. Johnson, anything but the statement of a responsible and truthful and respectable man.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I said that since I am obviously responsible for your being late, I shall certainly pay for it.”
“Don't be silly,” she said, and for the first time the frown disappeared. “I wouldn't expect you to pay for anything—a few minutes ago I was offering to pay you. Anyway,” she added, almost smiling, “it was my fault.”
“What happens if you don't go to work?”
She stared. “I don't get paid.”
“Precisely,” said Mr. Johnson.
“What do you mean, precisely? If I don't show up at the office exactly twenty minutes ago I lose a dollar and twenty cents an hour, or two cents a minute or”—she thought—“almost a dime for the time I've spent talking to you.”
Mr. Johnson laughed, and finally she laughed, too. “You're late already,” he pointed out. “Will you give me another four cents' worth?”
“I don't understand why.”
“You'll see,” Mr. Johnson promised. He led her over to the side of the walk, next to the buildings, and said, “Stand here,” and went out into the rush of people going both ways. Selecting and considering, as one who must make a choice involving perhaps whole years of lives, he estimated the people going by. Once he almost moved, and then at the last minute thought better of it and drew back. Finally, from half a block away, he saw what he wanted, and moved out into the center of the traffic to intercept a young man, who was hurrying, and dressed as though he had awakened late, and frowning.
“Oof,” said the young man, because Mr. Johnson had thought of no better way to intercept anyone than the one the young woman had unwittingly used upon him. “Where do you think you're going?” the young man demanded from the sidewalk.
“I want to speak to you,” said Mr. Johnson ominously.
The young man got up nervously, dusting himself and eyeing Mr. Johnson. “What for?” he said. “What'd I do?”
“That's what bothers me most about people nowadays,” Mr. Johnson complained broadly to the people passing. “No matter whether they've done anything or not, they always figure someone's after them. About what you're going to do,” he told the young man.
“Listen,” said the young man, trying to brush past him, “I'm late, and I don't have any time to listen. Here's a dime, now get going.”
“Thank you,” said Mr. Johnson, pocketing the dime. “Look,” he said, “what happens if you stop running?”
“I'm late,” said the young man, still trying to get past Mr. Johnson, who was unexpectedly clinging.
“How much you make an hour?” Mr. Johnson demanded.
“A Communist, are you?” said the young man. “Now will you please let me—”
“No,” said Mr. Johnson insistently, “how much?”
“Dollar fifty,” said the young man. “And now will you—”
“You like adventure?”
The young man stared, and, staring, found himself caught and held by Mr. Johnson's genial smile; he almost smiled back and then repressed it and made an effort to tear away. “I got to hurry,” he said.
“Mystery? You like surprises? Unusual and exciting events?”
“You selling something?”
“Sure,” said Mr. Johnson. “You want to take a chance?”
The young man hesitated, looking longingly up the avenue toward what might have been his destination and then, when Mr. Johnson said “I'll pay for it” with his own peculiar convincing emphasis, turned and said, “Well, okay. But I got to see it first, what I'm buying.”
Mr. Johnson, breathing hard, led the young man over to the side, where the girl was standing; she had been watching with interest Mr. Johnson's capture of the young man and now, smiling timidly, she looked at Mr. Johnson as though prepared to be surprised at nothing.
Mr. Johnson reached into his pocket and took out his wallet “Here,” he said, and handed a bill to the girl. “This about equals your day's pay.”
“But no,” she said, surprised in spite of herself “I mean, I couldn't.”
“Please do not interrupt,” Mr. Johnson told her. “And here,” he said to the young man, “this will take care of you.” The young man accepted the bill dazedly, but said, “Probably counterfeit” to the young woman out of the side of his mouth. “Now,” Mr. Johnson went on, disregarding the young man, “what is your name, miss?”
“Kent,” she said helplessly. “Mildred Kent.”
“Fine,” said Mr. Johnson. “And you, sir?”
“Arthur Adams,” said the young man stiffly.
“Splendid,” said Mr. Johnson. “Now, Miss Kent, I would like you to meet Mr. Adams. Mr. Adams, Miss Kent.”
Miss Kent stared, wet her lips nervously, made a gesture as though she might run, and said, “How do you do?”
Mr. Adams straightened his shoulders, scowled at Mr. Johnson, made a gesture as though he might run, and said, “How do you do?”
“Now, this,” said Mr. Johnson, taking several bills from his wallet, “should be enough for the day for both of you. I would suggest, perhaps, Coney Island—although I personally am not fond of the place—or perhaps a nice lunch somewhere, and dancing, or a matinee, or even a movie, although take care to choose a really good one; there are so many bad movies these days. You might,” he said, struck with an inspiration, “visit the Bronx Zoo, or the Planetarium. Anywhere, as a matter of fact,” he concluded, “that you would like to go. Have a nice time.”
As he started to move away, Arthur Adams, breaking from his dumb-founded stare, said, “But see here, mister, you can't do this. Why—how do you know—I mean, we don't even know—I mean, how do you know we won't just take the money and not do what you said?”
“You've taken the money,” Mr. Johnson said. “You don't have to follow any of my suggestions. You may know something you prefer to do—perhaps a museum, or something.”
“But suppose I just run away with it and leave her here?”
“I know you won't,” said Mr. Johnson gently, “because you remembered to ask me that. Goodbye,” he added, and went on.
As he stepped up the street, conscious of the sun on his head and his good shoes, he heard from somewhere behind him the young man saying, “Look, you know you don't have to if you don't want to,” and the girl saying, “But unless you don't want to...” Mr. Johnson smiled to himself and then thought that he had better hurry along; when he wanted to he could move very quickly, and before the young woman had gotten around to saying, “Well, I will if you will,” Mr. Johnson was several blocks away and had already stopped twice, once to help a lady lift several large packages into a taxi, and once to hand a peanut to a sea gull; By this time he was in an area of large stores and many more people, and he was buffeted constantly from either side by people hurrying and cross and late and sullen. Once he offered a peanut to a man who asked him for a dime, and once he offered a peanut to a bus driver who had stopped his bus at an intersection and had opened the window next to his seat and put out his head as though longing for fresh air and the comparative quiet of the traffic. The man wanting a dime took the peanut because Mr. Johnson had wrapped a dollar bill around it, but the bus driver took the peanut and asked ironically, “You want a transfer, Jack?”
On a busy corner Mr. Johnson encountered two young people—for one minute he thought they might be Mildred Kent and Arthur Adams—who were eagerly scanning a newspaper, their backs pressed against a storefront to avoid the people passing, their heads bent together. Mr. Johnson, whose curiosity was insatiable, leaned onto the storefront next to them and peeked over the man's shoulder; they were scanning the “Apartments Vacant” columns.
Mr. Johnson remembered the street where the woman and her little boy were going to Vermont and he tapped the man on the shoulder and said amiably, “Try down on West Seventeen. About the middle of the block, people moved out this morning.”
“Say, what do you—” said the man, and then, seeing Mr. Johnson clearly, “Well, thanks. Where did you say?”
“West Seventeen,” said Mr. Johnson. “About the middle of the block.” He smiled again and said, “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” said the man.
“Thanks,” said the girl as they moved off.
“Goodbye,” said Mr. Johnson.
He lunched alone in a pleasant restaurant, where the food was rich, and only Mr. Johnson's excellent digestion could encompass two of their whipped-cream-and-chocolate-and-rum-cake pastries for dessert. He had three cups of coffee, tipped the waiter largely, and went out into the street again into the wonderful sunlight, his shoes still comfortable and fresh on his feet. Outside he found a beggar staring into the windows of the restaurant he had left and, carefully looking through the money in his pocket, Mr. Johnson approached the beggar and pressed some coins and a couple of bills into his hand. “It's the price of the veal cutlet lunch plus tip,” said Mr. Johnson. “Goodbye.”
After his lunch he rested; he walked into the nearest park and fed peanuts to the pigeons. It was late afternoon by the time he was ready to start back downtown, and he had refereed two checker games and watched a small boy and girl whose mother had fallen asleep and awakened with surprise and fear that turned to amusement when she saw Mr. Johnson. He had given away almost all of his candy, and had fed all the rest of his peanuts to the pigeons, and it was time to go home. Although the late afternoon sun was pleasant, and his shoes were still entirely comfortable, he decided to take a taxi downtown.
He had a difficult time catching a taxi, because he gave up the first three or four empty ones to people who seemed to need them more; finally, however, he stood alone on the corner and—almost like netting a frisky fish—he hailed desperately until he succeeded in catching a cab that had been proceeding with haste uptown, and seemed to draw in toward Mr. Johnson against its own will.
“Mister,” the cabdriver said as Mr. Johnson climbed in, “I figured you was an omen, like. I wasn't going to pick you up at all.”
“Kind of you,” said Mr. Johnson ambiguously.
“If I'd of let you go it would of cost me ten bucks,” said the driver.
“Really?” said Mr. Johnson.
“Yeah,” said the driver. “Guy just got out of the cab, he turned around and give me ten bucks, said take this and bet it in a hurry on a horse named Vulcan, right away.”
“Vulcan?” said Mr. Johnson, horrified. “A fire sign on a Wednesday?”
“What?” said the driver. “Anyway, I said to myself, if I got no fare between here and there I'd bet the ten, but if anyone looked like they needed a cab I'd take it as an omen and I'd take the ten home to the wife.”
“You were very right,” said Mr. Johnson heartily. “This is Wednesday, you would have lost your money. Monday, yes, or even Saturday. But never never never a fire sign on a Wednesday. Sunday would have been good, now.”
“Vulcan don't run on Sunday,” said the driver.
“You wait till another day,” said Mr. Johnson. “Down this street, please, driver. I'll get off on the next corner.”
“He told me Vulcan, though,” said the driver.
“I'll tell you,” said Mr. Johnson, hesitating with the door of the cab half open. “You take that ten dollars and I'll give you another ten dollars to go with it, and you go right ahead and bet that money on any Thursday on any horse that has a name indicating... let me see, Thursday... well, grain. Or any growing food.”
“Grain?” said the driver. “You mean a horse named, like, Wheat or something?”
“Certainly,” said Mr. Johnson. “Or, as a matter of fact, to make it even easier, any horse whose name includes the letters C, R, L. Perfectly simple.”
“Tall Corn?” said the driver, a light in his eye. “You mean a horse named, like, Tall Corn?”
“Absolutely,” said Mr. Johnson. “Here's your money.”
“Tall Corn,” said the driver. “Thank you, mister.”
“Goodbye,” said Mr. Johnson.
He was on his own corner, and went straight up to his apartment. He let himself in and called, “Hello?” and Mrs. Johnson answered from the kitchen, “Hello, dear, aren't you early?”
“Took a taxi home,” Mr. Johnson said. “I remembered the cheesecake, too. What's for dinner?”
Mrs. Johnson came out of the kitchen and kissed him; she was a comfortable woman, and smiling as Mr. Johnson smiled. “Hard day?” she asked.
“Not very,” said Mr. Johnson, hanging his coat in the closet. “How about you?”
“So-so,” she said. She stood in the kitchen doorway while he settled into his easy chair and took off his good shoes and took out the paper he had bought that morning. “Here and there,” she said.
“I didn't do so badly,” Mr. Johnson said. “Couple young people.”
“Fine,” she said. “I had a little nap this afternoon, took it easy most of the day. Went into a department store this morning and accused the woman next to me of shoplifting, and had the store detective pick her up. Sent three dogs to the pound—you know, the usual thing. Oh, and listen,” she added, remembering.
“What?” asked Mr. Johnson.
“Well,” she said, “I got onto a bus and asked the driver for a transfer, and when he helped someone else first I said that he was impertinent, and quarreled with him. And then I said why wasn't he in the army, and I said it loud enough for everyone to hear, and I took his number and I turned in a complaint. Probably got him fired.”
“Fine,” said Mr. Johnson. “But you do look tired. Want to change over tomorrow?”
“I would like to,” she said. “I could do with a change.”
“Right,” said Mr. Johnson. “What's for dinner?”
“Veal cutlet.”
“Had it for lunch,” said Mr. Johnson.
約翰·菲利普·約翰遜先生關(guān)上了身后的前門,走下了門前的臺(tái)階。在這個(gè)陽光明媚的上午,他的心情很好,感覺在這美好的日子里,世界上的一切也同樣美好。難道太陽不是溫暖和燦爛的嗎?新?lián)Q了鞋底的一雙鞋穿著難道不是格外舒服嗎?他知道自己無疑選了一條最適合今天戴的領(lǐng)帶,無論如何,陽光和舒服的雙腳告訴自己,這個(gè)世界難道不是一個(gè)奇妙的地方嗎?盡管他的個(gè)頭不高,雖然領(lǐng)帶或許太過色彩艷麗,但是當(dāng)約翰遜先生走下臺(tái)階,來到臟兮兮的人行道上時(shí),他的身上洋溢著幸福,對路過他身邊的每個(gè)人都微笑,甚至也有些人以微笑來回報(bào)。他在街角的報(bào)亭停了下來,買了份報(bào)紙,對著賣報(bào)的人真誠地問候“早安”。兩三個(gè)等著買報(bào)紙的人幸運(yùn)地跳過了約翰遜先生跟他們一一問候的程序。他記著在出門前往兜里裝滿了糖果和花生,并且打算自己徒步去市郊。他在一家花店停了下來,買了一枝康乃馨別在扣眼上,但沒走出多遠(yuǎn),就把這枝康乃馨送給了嬰兒車上的一個(gè)小孩,小孩呆呆地看著他,然后笑了,約翰遜先生也沖他微笑,而小孩的媽媽注視了約翰遜先生一會(huì)兒,也微笑了起來。
約翰遜先生往市郊方向走了幾個(gè)街區(qū),穿過馬路,隨便選了一條小道走。他沒有按照每天早上都走的路線行走,而是寧愿選擇七拐八拐,但還算寬闊的道路在走,走路的姿勢更像一個(gè)愣頭青而不像行事穩(wěn)妥的成年人。今天上午,在街區(qū)半截的地方,停著一輛正在搬家的貨車,家具從樓上的公寓中搬出,一半放在了人行道上,另一半擺在了臺(tái)階上。一群閑著沒事干的人,逗樂似的檢查著桌子上的劃痕和椅子上磕碰的地方。而一位疲憊煩亂的婦女,一邊得設(shè)法照看年幼的孩子,一邊還得一直留意著搬運(yùn)工和家具。她的行動(dòng)清楚地表明,在眾人盯著她的東西看的時(shí)候,她竭力地想保護(hù)她的私人生活。約翰遜先生停下了腳步,也加入了看熱鬧的人群。過了一會(huì)兒,他走上前,禮貌地用手碰了碰帽檐,說道:“也許我能為您照看一下您的小孩,可以嗎?”
婦女轉(zhuǎn)過身來,不信任地盯著他看了一會(huì)兒。約翰遜先生急忙補(bǔ)充道:“我們就坐在這兒,在臺(tái)階上?!彼賳局∧泻ⅲ∧泻㈦m然遲疑了一下,但在約翰遜先生親切微笑的感召下,最終還是同意了。約翰遜先生從口袋里掏出了一把花生,和小男孩一起坐到了臺(tái)階上。小男孩一開始拒絕吃花生,因?yàn)樗麐寢尣辉试S他接受陌生人的食品。約翰遜先生解釋說,也許他媽媽說的食品并不包含花生,因?yàn)轳R戲團(tuán)里的那些大象就吃觀眾給的花生,小男孩認(rèn)真地考慮了一下,然后一本正經(jīng)地同意了。他們坐在臺(tái)階上用一種默契的方式剝著花生,約翰遜先生問道:“這么說,你們要搬家?”
“是的?!毙∧泻⒒卮鸬?。
“搬哪兒去?”
“佛蒙特州?!?/p>
“挺不錯(cuò)的地方,那兒冬天的雪很大,楓葉糖也很不錯(cuò),你喜歡吃楓葉糖嗎?”
“當(dāng)然?!?/p>
“佛蒙特州有很多楓葉糖。你要住在一個(gè)農(nóng)場里嗎?”
“我們要和姥爺一家住在一起?!?/p>
“姥爺喜歡花生嗎?”
“當(dāng)然。”
“那你也應(yīng)該給他帶點(diǎn)兒回去,”約翰遜先生邊說邊把手伸進(jìn)了兜里,“只有你和媽媽去嗎?”
“是的。”
“我跟你說,”約翰遜先生說道,“你拿點(diǎn)兒花生在火車上吃吧?!?/p>
小男孩的媽媽一開始每過一會(huì)兒就要瞄上他們幾眼,這個(gè)時(shí)候她似乎覺得約翰遜先生是可以信賴的,因?yàn)樗呀?jīng)把全部心思都放在了監(jiān)督工人搬家上——雖然搬家工人不會(huì),或者說幾乎不會(huì)損壞價(jià)格不菲的桌子的腿,或者把廚房的椅子壓到臺(tái)燈上,但是只要是家庭主婦就會(huì)對他們不放心?,F(xiàn)在大多數(shù)的家具已經(jīng)裝車了,而這位婦女還在緊張地忙碌著,她發(fā)現(xiàn)有些東西忘記打包了——這些東西放在柜櫥后面隱蔽的角落里,或者落在鄰居家忘拿了,或者還掛在曬衣繩上——她正努力地回憶到底是什么東西。
“就這么多了吧,女士?”搬家工人的頭問道,算是把她的沮喪完全消除了。
她不太肯定地點(diǎn)了點(diǎn)頭。
“想待在卡車上和這些家具一起嗎,小家伙?”搬家工人笑著問小男孩,小男孩也笑了起來,對約翰遜先生說:“我想在佛蒙特州我會(huì)過得開心的。”
“肯定會(huì)開心,”約翰遜先生站起身來說道,“走之前再多拿點(diǎn)兒花生吧?!彼麑π∧泻⒄f。
小男孩的媽媽對約翰遜先生說道:“太謝謝您了,真是幫了我大忙?!?/p>
“沒什么,”約翰遜先生又殷勤地問道,“您打算去佛蒙特州的什么地方?”
這位媽媽嗔怪地看著小男孩,好像他泄露了什么重要的秘密似的。她不太情愿地說道:“格林威奇?!?/p>
“很不錯(cuò)的小城?!奔s翰遜先生說道。他又拿出了一張卡片,在背面寫上了一個(gè)名字:“我的一個(gè)好朋友就住在格林威奇,”他說道,“有事可以找他。他太太做的炸面圈是城里最棒的?!彼忠荒樥J(rèn)真地跟小男孩補(bǔ)充道。
“太好了?!毙∧泻⒑暗?。
“再見?!奔s翰遜先生說道。
他繼續(xù)上路了,穿著新鞋,步伐輕快,感覺太陽暖暖地照在背上和頭頂。他在這條街區(qū)的半路上又碰見了一條灰狗,也喂了它一?;ㄉ?。
在街區(qū)一角,他面對的又是一條寬闊的大街。他決定再次往市郊方向走,他相對懶散地慢慢向前挪動(dòng)著腳步,從他身邊匆匆走過的人都眉頭緊鎖,他們摩肩接踵地在他身邊向相反的方向擠過,蹬蹬地向某處快速奔去。約翰遜先生在每個(gè)路口都停下來,耐心地等著交通燈變綠,如果看到某人似乎特別匆忙,他會(huì)側(cè)身讓路。但是,他彎腰撫摸便道上的一只小貓時(shí)——這只小貓從公寓樓里跑出來,如今無法穿過擁擠的人潮再回到家了——一位年輕的女士因?yàn)樽叩锰?,猛地把他撞倒了?/p>
“對不起,”年輕的女士說道,慌忙地想把約翰遜先生拉起來,同時(shí)又匆忙地想繼續(xù)趕路,“實(shí)在對不起?!?/p>
小貓顧不上眼前被踩踏的危險(xiǎn)了,飛也似的跑回了家中?!巴耆珱]關(guān)系,”約翰遜先生仔細(xì)地整理了一下衣服,說道,“您看上去很著急呀。”
“我當(dāng)然著急了,”年輕的女士說道,“我要遲到了?!?/p>
她很懊惱,雙目之間緊鎖的眉頭可能經(jīng)常不舒展,似乎愁眉苦臉成了常態(tài)。她顯然是起晚了,因?yàn)樗龥]有多余的時(shí)間化妝,好讓自己看上去漂亮些。她的衣服簡單樸素,既沒有衣領(lǐng)也沒戴胸針,口紅也明顯涂得歪歪扭扭。她想從約翰遜先生旁邊擠過去,但約翰遜先生冒著可能會(huì)讓她以為他圖謀不軌的風(fēng)險(xiǎn),抓住了她的胳膊,說道:“請等一下?!?/p>
“聽著,”她心里咯噔了一下,趕忙說道,“我是撞到了您,您的律師可以去見我的律師,我樂意賠償您的一切損失,以及由此造成的其他不便,但是這會(huì)兒請您讓我走,因?yàn)槲乙t到了。”
“您干什么要遲到了?”約翰遜先生問道,他對她微笑著,想贏得她的信任,但是這似乎不能留住她,他擔(dān)心她在掙脫中會(huì)再次把他撞倒。
“我上班要遲到了,”她從牙縫里擠出這句話,“上班遲到了,我有份工作,如果我遲到了,一小時(shí)會(huì)扣很多錢,而且我真的負(fù)擔(dān)不起跟您愉快地聊天所帶來的成本,無論跟您聊天是多么令人愉快?!?/p>
“我付給您錢。”約翰遜先生說道。這是些神奇的字眼,其實(shí),并不是因?yàn)檫@是句實(shí)話,或者因?yàn)樗娴闹竿s翰遜先生能付她錢,而是因?yàn)榧s翰遜先生樸實(shí)的話語,顯然沒有帶絲毫諷刺的意味。當(dāng)然,從約翰遜先生嘴里說出的話不可能有別的意思,因?yàn)樗莻€(gè)負(fù)責(zé)、真實(shí)、值得尊敬的人。
“您什么意思?”她問道。
“我是說,我顯然對您的遲到負(fù)有責(zé)任,我理所應(yīng)當(dāng)賠償您的損失?!?/p>
“您別犯傻了,”她說道,她緊鎖的眉頭第一次舒展開了,“我沒指望您賠償任何東西——不管怎么說,幾分鐘前,還是我提出來要賠償您?!彼盅a(bǔ)充道,幾乎是微笑著說的,“是我的錯(cuò)呀?!?/p>
“如果您不去上班的話,會(huì)去做些什么事?”
她睜大了眼睛,“那我就拿不到薪水了?!?/p>
“一點(diǎn)兒也沒錯(cuò)?!奔s翰遜先生說道。
“您說的一點(diǎn)兒也沒錯(cuò)是什么意思呀?確切地說如果二十分鐘前我沒有在辦公室里出現(xiàn)的話,我一小時(shí)就會(huì)被扣掉一美元二十美分,或者說,一分鐘兩美分,或者”——她心想——“在我跟你說話的工夫,幾乎損失了十美分了。”
約翰遜先生哈哈大笑了起來,后來她也開口笑了?!凹热荒呀?jīng)遲到了,”他指明了這一點(diǎn),“您愿意再跟我聊四美分的天嗎?”
“我不明白您這是為什么?!?/p>
“您會(huì)明白的?!奔s翰遜先生信誓旦旦地說道。他領(lǐng)著她走到人行道的一邊,緊靠著大樓,然后說,“站在這兒,”隨即就走向兩邊分流的人群中了。他挑選和考量著,就像一個(gè)人對整個(gè)人生規(guī)劃要做出選擇一樣,他評(píng)估著匆匆而過的人群。有一次,他幾乎要采取行動(dòng)了,但在仔細(xì)衡量之后,最后一刻又退了回來。終于,在距離有半個(gè)街區(qū)遠(yuǎn)的地方,他發(fā)現(xiàn)了想要的目標(biāo),動(dòng)身走到了人流當(dāng)中,攔住了一位正急匆匆趕路的年輕小伙子。他衣衫不整,好像起晚了,同樣皺著眉頭。
“哎喲,”年輕人喊道,因?yàn)榧s翰遜先生沒有想出什么更好的辦法來攔住他,只好如法炮制地用剛才那位年輕女士用在他身上的莽撞方法?!澳愕降滓ツ膬貉剑俊蹦贻p的小伙子在人行道上問道。
“我想跟你談?wù)劇!奔s翰遜先生壞壞地說道。
年輕人緊張地從地上站起來,撣了撣身上的土,看著約翰遜先生,“談什么?”他問道,“我干什么了?”
“那就是最困擾我的關(guān)于當(dāng)下人們的狀態(tài)的問題,”約翰遜先生對著路過的人群抱怨著,“無論他們已經(jīng)做了某事或者還沒有做事,他們總是認(rèn)為別人在追趕他們。我們來談?wù)勀阋ジ墒裁??!彼嬖V年輕人。
“聽著,”年輕人說道,想從他身邊擠過去,“我已經(jīng)遲到了,沒時(shí)間聽你嘮叨,給你十美分,趕緊走吧?!?/p>
“謝謝!”約翰遜先生說道,把硬幣裝到了口袋里?!奥犖艺f,”他說道,“如果你停止奔跑,會(huì)發(fā)生什么事嗎?”
“我都遲到了,”年輕人一邊說,一邊想從纏著他的約翰遜先生的身邊走開。
“你一個(gè)小時(shí)掙多少錢?”約翰遜先生問道。
“你是一個(gè)共產(chǎn)主義者吧?”年輕人說道,“現(xiàn)在請你讓我……”
“不行,”約翰遜先生堅(jiān)持道,“多少錢?”
“五十美元,”年輕人說道,“現(xiàn)在你可以……”
“你喜歡冒險(xiǎn)嗎?”
年輕人剛才就有些吃驚地盯著他,現(xiàn)在更是目瞪口呆了,他發(fā)現(xiàn)自己被約翰遜先生親切的微笑所吸引而呆立在那兒了。他幾乎都要還以微笑了,但是克制住了,再次努力想從約翰遜身邊擠過去?!拔亿s時(shí)間?!彼f道。
“你喜歡神秘的事嗎?你喜歡出人意料的事嗎?不同尋常和激動(dòng)人心的事呢?”
“你在推銷什么東西吧?”
“當(dāng)然,”約翰遜先生說道,“你想試試運(yùn)氣嗎?”
年輕人猶豫著,眼巴巴地望著街道,這條街道可能通向他的目的地。這時(shí),約翰遜先生又開口了,用他那獨(dú)特而不容置疑的口吻說“我來買單”后,小伙子轉(zhuǎn)過身,勉強(qiáng)地說:“那好吧,但我先得看看,我要買的是什么東西?!?/p>
約翰遜先生使勁呼了口氣,把年輕人領(lǐng)到了女孩站立的人行道邊上。女孩一直在饒有興致地觀察約翰遜先生“捕捉”那位年輕小伙子的整個(gè)過程,而現(xiàn)在,她羞怯地微笑著,看著約翰遜先生,好像無論他再做什么,她都不再感到吃驚一樣。
約翰遜先生把手伸進(jìn)口袋,掏出了他的錢包,“給你,”他邊說邊把一張鈔票遞給了女孩,“這大致相當(dāng)于你一天的薪水?!?/p>
“可是,這不行,”她說道,盡管她自己吃了一驚,“我的意思是,我不能接受。”
“請不要打斷我,”約翰遜先生對姑娘說道?!斑@個(gè)給你,”他又對年輕小伙說道,“這個(gè)能解決你的問題?!蹦贻p人恍恍惚惚地接過了鈔票,可嘴上卻不留神溜出這樣一句話,“這也許是假鈔吧?!薄艾F(xiàn)在,告訴我,”約翰遜先生對年輕的女孩繼續(xù)說道,根本沒理會(huì)年輕小伙子的話,“你叫什么名字,小姐?”
“肯特,”她不知所措地說道,“米爾德里德·肯特?!?/p>
“好的?!奔s翰遜先生又問?!澳悄隳兀壬??”
“亞瑟·亞當(dāng)斯?!蹦贻p小伙子舌頭僵硬地說道。
“好極了。”約翰遜先生說道?!艾F(xiàn)在,肯特小姐,我想讓你認(rèn)識(shí)一下亞當(dāng)斯先生。這位是亞當(dāng)斯先生,這位是肯特小姐。”
肯特小姐瞪大了眼睛,緊張地舔了舔嘴唇,做了一個(gè)手勢,仿佛拔腳要跑,然后招呼道:“您好!”
“現(xiàn)在,這個(gè),”約翰遜先生邊說,邊從錢包里又抽出幾張鈔票,“對你們倆來說,今天應(yīng)該足夠了。我建議,也許是康尼島——雖然我個(gè)人并不怎么喜歡那地方——或者是能享受一頓美妙午餐的地方,還可以去跳舞,或者觀賞劇院的午后演出,甚至是一場電影。呃,費(fèi)點(diǎn)兒心思,但要選一個(gè)真正的好電影,現(xiàn)在的爛片實(shí)在是太多了。你們倆還可以,”他說道,好像突然有了靈感,“去布朗克斯動(dòng)物園,或者去天文館。實(shí)際上,不管什么地方,”他總結(jié)道,“任何你們想去的地方,去度過一段快樂時(shí)光。”
當(dāng)他打算離開的時(shí)候,亞瑟·亞當(dāng)斯好像才從目瞪口呆中緩過神來,說道:“但是,你瞧,先生,你不能這么做。為什么——你怎么能知道——我的意思是,我們甚至都不認(rèn)識(shí)——我的意思是,你怎么能知道我們不會(huì)只拿了你的錢,而不按你說的做呢?”
“你已經(jīng)拿了錢,”約翰遜先生說道,“你不必聽我的任何建議。你可能對你喜歡干的事情心中有數(shù)了——也許是一座博物館,或者其他的什么東西?!?/p>
“可假如我揣著錢跑了,而把她甩在這兒呢?”
“我知道你不會(huì)的,”約翰遜先生溫和地說道,“因?yàn)槟氵€能想起來問我這個(gè)問題,再見?!彼a(bǔ)充道,然后轉(zhuǎn)身走了。
當(dāng)他抬腿走在街道上的時(shí)候,察覺到了太陽升到了頭頂,腳上的這雙鞋也真是合腳。他聽到身后某個(gè)地方傳來年輕小伙子的說話聲,
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