Once upon a time there was a little girl called Lucie, who lived at a farm called Little-town. She was a good little girl—only she was always losing her pocket-handkerchiefs!
One day little Lucie came into the farm-yard crying—oh, she did cry so! “I've lost my pocket-handkin! Three handkins and a pinny! Have you seen them, Tabby Kitten?”
The Kitten went on washing her white paws; so Lucie asked a speckled hen—
“Sally Henny-penny, has you found three pocket-handkins?”
But the speckled hen ran into a barn, clucking—
“I go barefoot, barefoot, barefoot!”
And then Lucie asked Cock Robin sitting on a twig. Cock Robin looked sideways at Lucie with his bright black eye, and he flew over a stile and away.
Lucie climbed upon the stile and looked up at the hill behind Little-town—a hill that goes up—up—into the clouds as though it had no top! And a great way up the hillside she thought she saw some white things spread upon the grass.
Lucie scrambled up the hill as fast as her short legs would carry her; she ran along a steep path-way—up and up—until Little-town was right away down below—she could have dropped a pebble down the chimney!
Presently she came to a spring, bubbling out from the hillside. Some one had stood a tin can upon a stone to catch the water—but the water was already running over, for the can was no bigger than an egg-cup! And where the sand upon the path was wet—there were foot-marks of a very small person.
Lucie ran on, and on.
The path ended under a big rock. The grass was short and green, and there were clothes-props cut from bracken stems, with lines of plaited rushes, and a heap of tiny clothes pins—but no pocket-handkerchiefs! But there was something else—a door! straight into the hill; and inside it some one was singing—
“Lily-white and clean, oh!
With little frills between, oh!
Smooth and hot—red rusty spot
Never here be seen, oh!”
Lucie knocked—once—twice, and interrupted the song. A little frightened voice called out “Who's that?”
Lucie opened the door: and what do you think there was inside the hill?—a nice clean kitchen with a flagged floor and wooden beams—just like any other farm kitchen. Only the ceiling was so low that Lucie's head nearly touched it; and the pots and pans were small, and so was everything there.
There was a nice hot singey smell; and at the table, with an iron in her hand, stood a very stout short person staring anxiously at Lucie. Her print gown was tucked up, and she was wearing a large apron over her striped petticoat. Her little black nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle; and underneath her cap—where Lucie had yellow curls—that little person had prickles!
“Who are you?” said Lucie. “Have you seen my pocket-handkins?”
The little person made a bob-curtsey—“Oh, yes, if you please'm; my name is Mrs. Tiggy-winkle; oh, yes if you please'm, I'm an excellent clear-starcher!” And she took something out of a clothes-basket, and spread it on the ironing-blanket.
“What's that thing?” said Lucie—“that's not my pocket-handkin?”
“Oh no, if you please'm; that's a little scarlet waist-coat belonging to Cock Robin!”
And she ironed it and folded it, and put it on one side. Then she took something else off a clothes-horse—
“That isn't my pinny?” said Lucie.
“Oh no, if you please'm; that's a damask table-cloth belonging to Jenny Wren; look how it's stained with currant wine! It's very bad to wash!” said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.
Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle's nose went sniffle, sniffle, snuffle, and her eyes went twinkle, twinkle; and she fetched another hot iron from the fire.
“There's one of my pocket-handkins!” cried Lucie—“and there's my pinny!”
Mrs. Tiggy-winkle ironed it, and goffered it, and shook out the frills.
“Oh that is lovely!” said Lucie. “And what are those long yellow things with fingers like gloves?”
“Oh, that's a pair of stockings belonging to Sally Henny-penny—look how she's worn the heels out with scratching in the yard! She'll very soon go barefoot!” said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.
“Why, there's another handkersniff—but it isn't mine; it's red?”
“Oh no, if you please'm; that one belongs to old Mrs. Rabbit; and it did so smell of onions! I've had to wash it separately, I can't get out the smell.”
“There's another one of mine,” said Lucie.
“What are those funny little white things?”
“That's a pair of mittens belonging to Tabby Kitten; I only have to iron them; she washes them herself.”
“There's my last pocket-handkin!” said Lucie.
“And what are you dipping into the basin of starch?”
“They're little dicky shirt-fronts belonging to Tom Tit-mouse—most terrible particular!” said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. “Now I've finished my ironing; I'm going to air some clothes.”
“What are these dear soft fluffy things?” said Lucie.
“Oh those are woolly coats belonging to the little lambs at Skelghyl.”
“Will their jackets take off?” asked Lucy.
“Oh yes, if you please'm; look at the sheep-mark on the shoulder. And here's one marked for Gatesgarth, and three that come from Little-town. They're always marked at washing!” said Mrs. Tiggy-winkle.
And she hung up all sorts and sizes of clothes—small brown coats of mice; and one velvety black moleskin waist-coat; and a red tail-coat with no tail belonging to Squirrel Nutkin; and a very much shrunk blue jacket belonging to Peter Rabbit; and a petticoat, not marked, that had gone lost in the washing—and at last the basket was empty!
Then Mrs. Tiggy-winkle made tea—a cup for herself and a cup for Lucie. They sat before the fire on a bench and looked sideways at one another. Mrs. Tiggy-winkle's hand, holding the tea-cup, was very very brown, and very very wrinkly with the soap-suds; and all through her gown and her cap, there were hair-pins sticking wrong end out; so that Lucie didn't like to sit too near her.
When they had finished tea, they tied up the clothes in bundles; and Lucie's pocket-handkerchiefs were folded up inside her clean pinny, and fastened with a silver safety-pin.
And then they made up the fire with turf, and came out and locked the door, and hid the key under the door-sill. Then away down the hill trotted Lucie and Mrs. Tiggy-winkle with the bundles of clothes!
All the way down the path little animals came out of the fern to meet them; the very first that they met were Peter Rabbit and Benjamin Bunny! And she gave them their nice clean clothes; and all the little animals and birds were so very much obliged to dear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle. So that at the bottom of the hill when they came to the stile, there was nothing left to carry except Lucie's one little bundle.
Lucie scrambled up the stile with the bundle in her hand; and then she turned to say “Good-night,” and to thank the washer-woman—But what a very odd thing! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle had not waited either for thanks or for the washing bill! She was running running running up the hill—and where was her white frilled cap? and her shawl? and her gown—and her petticoat?
And how small she had grown—and how brown—and covered with prickles!
Why! Mrs. Tiggy-winkle was nothing but a hedgehog.
(Now some people say that little Lucie had been asleep upon the stile—but then how could she have found three clean pocket-handkins and a pinny, pinned with a silver safety-pin?
And besides—I have seen that door into the back of the hill called Cat Bells—and besides I am very well acquainted with dear Mrs. Tiggy-winkle!)
THE END
從前,有一個叫露西的小女孩,她住在一個叫作“小鎮(zhèn)”的農(nóng)場上。她是一個乖巧的小姑娘——不過她總是把她的手帕弄丟。
有一天,小露西大叫著來到農(nóng)場的院子中——噢,她是這么叫的:“我丟了我的手帕!三條手帕還有一件圍裙!你看到了沒有,花斑小貓?”
小貓仍然繼續(xù)清理著自己的白爪子,所以露西又去問一只蘆花母雞:
“小母雞薩利,你看到過三條手帕嗎?”
但是蘆花母雞跑進了一個谷倉里,嘴里咯咯咯地叫著:
“我光著腳呢,光著腳呢,光著腳??!”
然后,露西去問棲息在樹枝上的雄知更鳥。雄知更鳥用他閃亮的黑眼睛斜了露西一眼,然后掠過矮土墻,飛走了。
露西爬上矮土墻,眺望著小鎮(zhèn)后面的那座山——那座山好高,好高,直入云霄,高得好像沒有頂。她覺得自己看見山腰的草地上有些白色的東西攤著,就在很遠很高的地方。
露西以她的小短腿能達到的最快速度向山上爬,她沿著那條陡峭的山間小徑向上跑,一直向上,一直向上,直到小鎮(zhèn)被她遠遠地拋在了下面,她甚至可以把一顆石頭直接丟到煙囪里面去。
沒一會兒,她來到了一眼泉水旁邊,泉水汩汩地從山腰流出。有人把一個罐子放在了泉水邊的石頭上接水,但是水都溢了出來,因為那罐子只有雞蛋杯那么大。小徑的沙子是濕的,那上面有許多非常小的腳印。
露西繼續(xù)跑啊跑。
小徑的盡頭在一塊大石頭的下面。那里的草很矮,但是很綠,那里有歐洲蕨的莖做的晾衣桿,中間的繩子則是編織成辮子狀的燈芯草,上面掛著小小的衣服夾子——但是沒有手帕。不過那里還有別的東西——那是一扇門!直接通向山里面,在門內(nèi)有人正唱著歌:
純白無瑕又干凈,哦!
小小飾邊平又整,哦!
光滑滑,熱乎乎,
紅紅的銹斑呀,從來都沒有,哦!
露西敲了一下門,然后又敲了一下,打斷了這歌聲。一個有點兒受驚的聲音問道:“是誰???”
露西打開門,你們猜露西在里面看到了什么?——那里有一間整潔可愛的廚房,石板鋪的地面,木頭的梁柱,就和普通農(nóng)場里的廚房一樣。只是屋頂實在很矮很矮,露西的頭幾乎就頂著房頂了,廚房里面的水壺和鍋也都很小,屋里所有的東西都很小。
屋子里有一股好聞而又熱乎乎的焦味兒,有一個矮矮胖胖的人,手里拿著一個熨斗,正緊張地望著露西。她身上穿的印花長袍被卷了起來,在她的條紋襯裙外面是一條大圍裙。小小的黑鼻頭抽抽,又嗅嗅,她的眼睛不停地眨呀眨。而在她帽子的下面——露西長著黃色的鬈發(fā)——這個小人兒卻長著刺。
“你是誰?”露西問,“你看到我的手帕了嗎?”
這個小人兒行了一個屈膝禮說:“噢,是的,如果你愿意的話,可以叫我碰碰螺太太。噢,對,你相信嗎,我可是一個優(yōu)秀的漿洗工。”然后,她從洗衣籃里面拿出了一樣東西,然后攤開,鋪在了熨衣毯上。
“那是什么?”露西問,“那不是我的手帕嗎?”
“噢,不是的,抱歉,這件小小的紅色馬甲是雄知更鳥的?!?/p>
然后她熨了那件馬甲,疊好放在一邊。接著她又從衣架上拿下了什么。
“那不是我的圍裙嗎?”露西說。
“噢,不是的,抱歉,這是鷦鷯珍妮的緞子桌布。看看這一大片酒漬!非常難洗?!迸雠雎萏f。
碰碰螺太太的鼻子抽了抽,又抽了抽,然后又大聲地抽了一下,她的眼睛眨了眨,又眨了眨。然后她從火上拿下了另一個熱燙的熨斗。
“那是我的一塊手帕!”露西叫道,“那是我的圍裙。”
碰碰螺太太將圍裙熨好,壓出褶皺,抖開荷葉邊。
“噢,真是太好了!”露西說,“那些有著手套一樣分指的長長的黃東西是什么呀?”
“噢,那是小母雞薩利的長筒襪——看看呀,她整天刨地,腳后跟兒都破了。用不了多久她就得光著腳了?!迸雠雎萏f。
“哎呀,還有一塊手帕——不過不是我的,這條是紅色的吧?”
“噢,不是你的,抱歉,這是老兔子太太的,上面一股洋蔥味!我洗它的時候是單獨洗的,怎么也洗不掉那股氣味。”
“那是我的另一塊手帕。”露西說,“那些好玩的白色的小東西是什么呀?”
“那是小花斑貓的露指手套。我只需要熨燙它們,因為是她自己洗的。”
“那是我的最后一塊手帕!”露西說,“你放到水淀粉盆子里面的是什么?”
“這是小老鼠湯姆的小襯衫前襟——他講究得過分!”碰碰螺太太說,“我已經(jīng)熨完了?,F(xiàn)在得把一些衣服晾一晾。”
“那些可愛的、軟軟的、毛茸茸的東西是什么?”露西問。
“噢,這些是斯凱高爾的小羊們的羊毛外套?!?/p>
“他們的外套能脫下來嗎?”露西問。
“噢,是的,來看看肩膀上的這些羊的記號。有一個是蓋茨蓋斯的記號,還有三個是小鎮(zhèn)的。他們總是在這些要洗的東西上做標記?!迸雠雎萏f。
然后,她把各種各樣、大大小小的衣物掛了起來,里面有老鼠們的棕色小外套;還有一件軟軟的黑色鼴鼠皮馬甲;松鼠堅果金的一件紅色無尾燕尾服;小兔彼得的一件縮水嚴重的藍色夾克;還有一件襯裙,上面沒有標記,應該是在洗滌的過程中掉了——最后,籃子終于空了。
接著,碰碰螺太太去泡了茶,一杯給自己,一杯給露西。她們坐在壁爐前的一條長凳上,側(cè)臉看著彼此。碰碰螺太太端著茶杯的手是極深的棕色,皺皺的,上面還掛著肥皂泡,她的長袍和帽子上都是刺到外面的“發(fā)針”,所以,露西并不想坐得離她太近。
她們喝完茶后,把衣服包進包袱里。露西的手帕都被疊起來放到了干凈的圍裙里,然后用一根銀別針固定好。然后,她們往火里添了些泥炭,便出了門,鎖好門后,把鑰匙藏在了門縫下面。露西和碰碰螺太太帶著一大包衣服。一路飛快地走下了山。
下山的路上,時不時就會有小動物從草叢中出來迎接她們,她們最先見到的是小兔彼得和小兔本杰明。碰碰螺太太把干凈、整潔的衣服給了他們,所有的小動物和小鳥都對碰碰螺太太非常感激。等她們到了山腳,來到了矮土墻邊時,她們手上已經(jīng)只剩下露西的小包袱了。
露西拿著小包袱爬上了矮土墻,然后轉(zhuǎn)身向這位洗衣婦道晚安并表示謝意。但是真奇怪啊!碰碰螺太太既沒有等著她道謝,也沒有要洗衣費,而是一路跑啊跑啊跑,跑上山——她的荷葉邊小白帽怎么不見了呢?她的圍巾呢?她的袍子呢?還有她的襯裙呢?
哎呀,她可真小啊——顏色是非常深的棕色——而且還長滿了刺!
哎呀!碰碰螺太太原來就是一只刺猬。
有些人說小露西是在矮土墻上面睡著了——但她又是怎么找到三條干凈的手帕和一件圍裙,而且還用安全別針固定在一起的呢?
另外,我曾經(jīng)見過通向那座叫作“貓鈴山”后山中的門,另外我和親愛的碰碰螺太太可是很熟的!