Monday morning found Tom Sawyer miserable1. Monday morning always found him so—because it began another week’s slow suffering in school. He generally began that day with wishing he had had no intervening holiday, it made the going into captivity2 and fetters3 again so much more odious4.
Tom lay thinking. Presently it occurred to him that he wished he was sick; then he could stay home from school. Here was a vague possibility. He canvassed5 his system. No ailment6 was found, and he investigated again. This time he thought he could detect colicky symptoms, and he began to encourage them with considerable hope. But they soon grew feeble, and presently died wholly away. He reflected further. Suddenly he discovered something. One of his upper front teeth was loose. This was lucky; he was about to begin to groan8, as a “starter,” as he called it, when it occurred to him that if he came into court with that argument, his aunt would pull it out, and that would hurt. So he thought he would hold the tooth in reserve for the present, and seek further. Nothing offered for some little time, and then he remembered hearing the doctor tell about a certain thing that laid up a patient for two or three weeks and threatened to make him lose a finger. So the boy eagerly drew his sore toe from under the sheet and held it up for inspection9. But now he did not know the necessary symptoms. However, it seemed well worth while to chance it, so he fell to groaning10 with considerable spirit.
But Sid slept on unconscious.
Tom groaned11 louder, and fancied that he began to feel pain in the toe.
No result from Sid.
Tom was panting with his exertions12 by this time. He took a rest and then swelled13 himself up and fetched a succession of admirable groans14.
Sid snored on.
Tom was aggravated15. He said, “Sid, Sid!” and shook him. This course worked well, and Tom began to groan again. Sid yawned, stretched, then brought himself up on his elbow with a snort, and began to stare at Tom. Tom went on groaning. Sid said:
“Tom! Say, Tom!” [No response.] “Here, Tom! TOM! What is the matter, Tom?” And he shook him and looked in his face anxiously.
Tom moaned out:
“Oh, don’t, Sid. Don’t joggle me.”
“Why, what’s the matter, Tom? I must call auntie.”
“No—never mind. It’ll be over by and by, maybe. Don’t call anybody.”
“But I must! Don’t groan so, Tom, it’s awful. How long you been this way?”
“Hours. Ouch! Oh, don’t stir so, Sid, you’ll kill me.”
“Tom, why didn’t you wake me sooner? Oh, Tom, don’t! It makes my flesh crawl to hear you. Tom, what is the matter?”
“I forgive you everything, Sid. [Groan.] Everything you’ve ever done to me. When I’m gone—”
“Oh, Tom, you ain’t dying, are you? Don’t, Tom—oh, don’t. Maybe—”
“I forgive everybody, Sid. [Groan.] Tell ’em so, Sid. And Sid, you give my window-sash and my cat with one eye to that new girl that’s come to town, and tell her—”
But Sid had snatched his clothes and gone. Tom was suffering in reality, now, so handsomely was his imagination working, and so his groans had gathered quite a genuine tone.
Sid flew downstairs and said:
“Oh, Aunt Polly, come! Tom’s dying!”
“Dying!”
“Yes’m. Don’t wait—come quick!”
“Rubbage! I don’t believe it!”
But she fled upstairs, nevertheless, with Sid and Mary at her heels. And her face grew white, too, and her lip trembled. When she reached the bedside she gasped16 out:
“You, Tom! Tom, what’s the matter with you?”
“Oh, auntie, I’m—”
“What’s the matter with you—what is the matter with you, child?”
“Oh, auntie, my sore toe’s mortified17!”
The old lady sank down into a chair and laughed a little, then cried a little, then did both together. This restored her and she said:
“Tom, what a turn you did give me. Now you shut up that nonsense and climb out of this.”
The groans ceased and the pain vanished from the toe. The boy felt a little foolish, and he said:
“Aunt Polly, it seemed mortified, and it hurt so I never minded my tooth at all.”
“Your tooth, indeed! What’s the matter with your tooth?”
“One of them’s loose, and it aches perfectly18 awful.”
“There, there, now, don’t begin that groaning again. Open your mouth. Well—your tooth is loose, but you’re not going to die about that. Mary, get me a silk thread, and a chunk19 of fire out of the kitchen.”
Tom said:
“Oh, please, auntie, don’t pull it out. It don’t hurt any more. I wish I may never stir if it does. Please don’t, auntie. I don’t want to stay home from school.”
“Oh, you don’t, don’t you? So all this row was because you thought you’d get to stay home from school and go a-fishing? Tom, Tom, I love you so, and you seem to try every way you can to break my old heart with your outrageousness20.” By this time the dental instruments were ready. The old lady made one end of the silk thread fast to Tom’s tooth with a loop and tied the other to the bedpost. Then she seized the chunk of fire and suddenly thrust it almost into the boy’s face. The tooth hung dangling21 by the bedpost, now.
But all trials bring their compensations. As Tom wended to school after breakfast, he was the envy of every boy he met because the gap in his upper row of teeth enabled him to expectorate in a new and admirable way. He gathered quite a following of lads interested in the exhibition; and one that had cut his finger and had been a centre of fascination22 and homage23 up to this time, now found himself suddenly without an adherent24, and shorn of his glory. His heart was heavy, and he said with a disdain25 which he did not feel that it wasn’t anything to spit like Tom Sawyer; but another boy said, “Sour grapes!” and he wandered away a dismantled26 hero.
Shortly Tom came upon the juvenile27 pariah28 of the village, Huckleberry Finn, son of the town drunkard. Huckleberry was cordially hated and dreaded30 by all the mothers of the town, because he was idle and lawless and vulgar and bad—and because all their children admired him so, and delighted in his forbidden society, and wished they dared to be like him. Tom was like the rest of the respectable boys, in that he envied Huckleberry his gaudy31 outcast condition, and was under strict orders not to play with him. So he played with him every time he got a chance. Huckleberry was always dressed in the cast-off clothes of full-grown men, and they were in perennial32 bloom and fluttering with rags. His hat was a vast ruin with a wide crescent lopped out of its brim; his coat, when he wore one, hung nearly to his heels and had the rearward buttons far down the back; but one suspender supported his trousers; the seat of the trousers bagged low and contained nothing, the fringed legs dragged in the dirt when not rolled up.
Huckleberry came and went, at his own free will. He slept on doorsteps in fine weather and in empty hogsheads in wet; he did not have to go to school or to church, or call any being master or obey anybody; he could go fishing or swimming when and where he chose, and stay as long as it suited him; nobody forbade him to fight; he could sit up as late as he pleased; he was always the first boy that went barefoot in the spring and the last to resume leather in the fall; he never had to wash, nor put on clean clothes; he could swear wonderfully. In a word, everything that goes to make life precious that boy had. So thought every harassed33, hampered34, respectable boy in St. Petersburg.
Tom hailed the romantic outcast:
“Hello, Huckleberry!”
“Hello yourself, and see how you like it.”
“What’s that you got?”
“Dead cat.”
“Lemme see him, Huck. My, he’s pretty stiff. Where’d you get him?”
“Bought him off’n a boy.”
“What did you give?”
“I give a blue ticket and a bladder that I got at the slaughter-house.”
“Where’d you get the blue ticket?”
“Bought it off’n Ben Rogers two weeks ago for a hoop-stick.”
“Say—what is dead cats good for, Huck?”
“Good for? Cure warts35 with.”
“No! Is that so? I know something that’s better.”
“I bet you don’t. What is it?”
“Why, spunk-water.”
“Spunk-water! I wouldn’t give a dern for spunk-water.”
“You wouldn’t, wouldn’t you? D’you ever try it?”
“No, I hain’t. But Bob Tanner did.”
“Who told you so!”
“Why, he told Jeff Thatcher37, and Jeff told Johnny Baker38, and Johnny told Jim Hollis, and Jim told Ben Rogers, and Ben told a nigger, and the nigger told me. There now!”
“Well, what of it? They’ll all lie. Leastways all but the nigger. I don’t know him. But I never see a nigger that wouldn’t lie. Shucks! Now you tell me how Bob Tanner done it, Huck.”
“Why, he took and dipped his hand in a rotten stump39 where the rain-water was.”
“In the daytime?”
“Certainly.”
“With his face to the stump?”
“Yes. Least I reckon so.”
“Did he say anything?”
“I don’t reckon he did. I don’t know.”
“Aha! Talk about trying to cure warts with spunk-water such a blame fool way as that! Why, that ain’t a-going to do any good. You got to go all by yourself, to the middle of the woods, where you know there’s a spunk-water stump, and just as it’s midnight you back up against the stump and jam your hand in and say:
‘Barley-corn, barley-corn, injun-meal shorts,
Spunk-water, spunk-water, swaller these warts,’
and then walk away quick, eleven steps, with your eyes shut, and then turn around three times and walk home without speaking to anybody. Because if you speak the charm’s busted40.”
“Well, that sounds like a good way; but that ain’t the way Bob Tanner done.”
“No, sir, you can bet he didn’t, becuz he’s the wartiest boy in this town; and he wouldn’t have a wart36 on him if he’d knowed how to work spunk-water. I’ve took off thousands of warts off of my hands that way, Huck. I play with frogs so much that I’ve always got considerable many warts. Sometimes I take ’em off with a bean.”
“Yes, bean’s good. I’ve done that.”
“Have you? What’s your way?”
“You take and split the bean, and cut the wart so as to get some blood, and then you put the blood on one piece of the bean and take and dig a hole and bury it ’bout7 midnight at the crossroads in the dark of the moon, and then you burn up the rest of the bean. You see that piece that’s got the blood on it will keep drawing and drawing, trying to fetch the other piece to it, and so that helps the blood to draw the wart, and pretty soon off she comes.”
“Yes, that’s it, Huck—that’s it; though when you’re burying it if you say ‘Down bean; off wart; come no more to bother me!’ it’s better. That’s the way Joe Harper does, and he’s been nearly to Coonville and most everywheres. But say—how do you cure ’em with dead cats?”
“Why, you take your cat and go and get in the grave-yard ’long about midnight when somebody that was wicked has been buried; and when it’s midnight a devil will come, or maybe two or three, but you can’t see ’em, you can only hear something like the wind, or maybe hear ’em talk; and when they’re taking that feller away, you heave your cat after ’em and say, ‘Devil follow corpse41, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I’m done with ye!’ That’ll fetch any wart.”
“Sounds right. D’you ever try it, Huck?”
“No, but old Mother Hopkins told me.”
“Well, I reckon it’s so, then. Becuz they say she’s a witch.”
“Say! Why, Tom, I know she is. She witched pap. Pap says so his own self. He come along one day, and he see she was a-witching him, so he took up a rock, and if she hadn’t dodged42, he’d a got her. Well, that very night he rolled off’n a shed wher’ he was a layin drunk, and broke his arm.”
“Why, that’s awful. How did he know she was a-witching him?”
“Lord, pap can tell, easy. Pap says when they keep looking at you right stiddy, they’re a-witching you. Specially43 if they mumble44. Becuz when they mumble they’re saying the Lord’s Prayer backards.”
“Say, Hucky, when you going to try the cat?”
“To-night. I reckon they’ll come after old Hoss Williams to-night.”
“But they buried him Saturday. Didn’t they get him Saturday night?”
“Why, how you talk! How could their charms work till midnight?—and then it’s Sunday. Devils don’t slosh around much of a Sunday, I don’t reckon.”
“I never thought of that. That’s so. Lemme go with you?”
“Of course—if you ain’t afeard.”
“Afeard! ’Tain’t likely. Will you meow?”
“Yes—and you meow back, if you get a chance. Last time, you kep’ me a-meowing around till old Hays went to throwing rocks at me and says ‘Dern that cat!’ and so I hove a brick through his window—but don’t you tell.”
“I won’t. I couldn’t meow that night, becuz auntie was watching me, but I’ll meow this time. Say—what’s that?”
“Nothing but a tick.”
“Where’d you get him?”
“Out in the woods.”
“What’ll you take for him?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to sell him.”
“All right. It’s a mighty45 small tick, anyway.”
“Oh, anybody can run a tick down that don’t belong to them. I’m satisfied with it. It’s a good enough tick for me.”
“Sho, there’s ticks a plenty. I could have a thousand of ’em if I wanted to.”
“Well, why don’t you? Becuz you know mighty well you can’t. This is a pretty early tick, I reckon. It’s the first one I’ve seen this year.”
“Say, Huck—I’ll give you my tooth for him.”
“Less see it.”
Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said:
“Is it genuwyne?”
Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy46.
“Well, all right,” said Huckleberry, “it’s a trade.”
Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug’s prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before.
When Tom reached the little isolated47 frame school-house, he strode in briskly, with the manner of one who had come with all honest speed. He hung his hat on a peg48 and flung himself into his seat with business-like alacrity49. The master, throned on high in his great splint-bottom arm-chair, was dozing50, lulled51 by the drowsy52 hum of study. The interruption roused him.
“Thomas Sawyer!”
Tom knew that when his name was pronounced in full, it meant trouble.
“Sir!”
“Come up here. Now, sir, why are you late again, as usual?”
Tom was about to take refuge in a lie, when he saw two long tails of yellow hair hanging down a back that he recognized by the electric sympathy of love; and by that form was the only vacant place on the girls’ side of the school-house. He instantly said:
“I stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn!”
The master’s pulse stood still, and he stared helplessly. The buzz of study ceased. The pupils wondered if this foolhardy boy had lost his mind. The master said:
“You—you did what?”
“Stopped to talk with Huckleberry Finn.”
There was no mistaking the words.
“Thomas Sawyer, this is the most astounding53 confession54 I have ever listened to. No mere55 ferule will answer for this offence. Take off your jacket.”
The master’s arm performed until it was tired and the stock of switches notably56 diminished. Then the order followed:
“Now, sir, go and sit with the girls! And let this be a warning to you.”
The titter that rippled57 around the room appeared to abash58 the boy, but in reality that result was caused rather more by his worshipful awe59 of his unknown idol60 and the dread29 pleasure that lay in his high good fortune. He sat down upon the end of the pine bench and the girl hitched61 herself away from him with a toss of her head. Nudges and winks62 and whispers traversed the room, but Tom sat still, with his arms upon the long, low desk before him, and seemed to study his book.
By and by attention ceased from him, and the accustomed school murmur63 rose upon the dull air once more. Presently the boy began to steal furtive64 glances at the girl. She observed it, “made a mouth” at him and gave him the back of her head for the space of a minute. When she cautiously faced around again, a peach lay before her. She thrust it away. Tom gently put it back. She thrust it away again, but with less animosity. Tom patiently returned it to its place. Then she let it remain. Tom scrawled65 on his slate67, “Please take it—I got more.” The girl glanced at the words, but made no sign. Now the boy began to draw something on the slate, hiding his work with his left hand. For a time the girl refused to notice; but her human curiosity presently began to manifest itself by hardly perceptible signs. The boy worked on, apparently68 unconscious. The girl made a sort of non-committal attempt to see, but the boy did not betray that he was aware of it. At last she gave in and hesitatingly whispered:
“Let me see it.”
Tom partly uncovered a dismal69 caricature of a house with two gable ends to it and a corkscrew of smoke issuing from the chimney. Then the girl’s interest began to fasten itself upon the work and she forgot everything else. When it was finished, she gazed a moment, then whispered:
“It’s nice—make a man.”
The artist erected70 a man in the front yard, that resembled a derrick. He could have stepped over the house; but the girl was not hypercritical; she was satisfied with the monster, and whispered:
“It’s a beautiful man—now make me coming along.”
Tom drew an hour-glass with a full moon and straw limbs to it and armed the spreading fingers with a portentous71 fan. The girl said:
“It’s ever so nice—I wish I could draw.”
“It’s easy,” whispered Tom, “I’ll learn you.”
“Oh, will you? When?”
“At noon. Do you go home to dinner?”
“I’ll stay if you will.”
“Good—that’s a whack72. What’s your name?”
“Becky Thatcher. What’s yours? Oh, I know. It’s Thomas Sawyer.”
“That’s the name they lick me by. I’m Tom when I’m good. You call me Tom, will you?”
“Yes.”
Now Tom began to scrawl66 something on the slate, hiding the words from the girl. But she was not backward this time. She begged to see. Tom said:
“Oh, it ain’t anything.”
“Yes it is.”
“No it ain’t. You don’t want to see.”
“Yes I do, indeed I do. Please let me.”
“You’ll tell.”
“No I won’t—deed and deed and double deed won’t.”
“You won’t tell anybody at all? Ever, as long as you live?”
“No, I won’t ever tell anybody. Now let me.”
“Oh, you don’t want to see!”
“Now that you treat me so, I will see.” And she put her small hand upon his and a little scuffle ensued, Tom pretending to resist in earnest but letting his hand slip by degrees till these words were revealed: “I love you.”
“Oh, you bad thing!” And she hit his hand a smart rap, but reddened and looked pleased, nevertheless.
Just at this juncture73 the boy felt a slow, fateful grip closing on his ear, and a steady lifting impulse. In that wise he was borne across the house and deposited in his own seat, under a peppering fire of giggles74 from the whole school. Then the master stood over him during a few awful moments, and finally moved away to his throne without saying a word. But although Tom’s ear tingled75, his heart was jubilant.
As the school quieted down Tom made an honest effort to study, but the turmoil76 within him was too great. In turn he took his place in the reading class and made a botch of it; then in the geography class and turned lakes into mountains, mountains into rivers, and rivers into continents, till chaos77 was come again; then in the spelling class, and got “turned down,” by a succession of mere baby words, till he brought up at the foot and yielded up the pewter medal which he had worn with ostentation78 for months.
单词标签:
miserable
captivity
fetters
odious
canvassed
ailment
bout
groan
inspection
groaning
groaned
exertions
swelled
groans
aggravated
gasped
mortified
perfectly
chunk
outrageousness
dangling
fascination
homage
adherent
disdain
dismantled
juvenile
pariah
dread
dreaded
gaudy
perennial
harassed
hampered
warts
wart
thatcher
baker
stump
busted
corpse
dodged
specially
mumble
mighty
vacancy
isolated
peg
alacrity
dozing
lulled
drowsy
astounding
confession
mere
notably
rippled
abash
awe
idol
hitched
winks
murmur
furtive
scrawled
scrawl
slate
apparently
dismal
ERECTED
portentous
whack
juncture
giggles
tingled
turmoil
chaos
ostentation
收听单词发音 |
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miserable [ˈmɪzrəbl]
第7级 |
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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captivity [kæpˈtɪvəti]
第10级 |
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| n.囚禁；被俘；束缚 | |
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fetters ['fetəz]
第10级 |
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| n.脚镣( fetter的名词复数 )；束缚v.给…上脚镣，束缚( fetter的第三人称单数 ) | |
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odious [ˈəʊdiəs]
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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canvassed [ˈkænvəst]
第10级 |
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| v.（在政治方面）游说( canvass的过去式和过去分词 )；调查（如选举前选民的）意见；为讨论而提出（意见等）；详细检查 | |
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ailment [ˈeɪlmənt]
第9级 |
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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bout [baʊt]
第9级 |
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| n.侵袭，发作；一次(阵，回)；拳击等比赛 | |
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groan [grəʊn]
第7级 |
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| vi./n.呻吟，抱怨；(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
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inspection [ɪnˈspekʃn]
第8级 |
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| n.检查，审查，检阅 | |
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groaning [grɔ:nɪŋ]
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| adj. 呜咽的, 呻吟的 动词groan的现在分词形式 | |
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groaned [ɡrəund]
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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exertions [ɪgˈzɜ:ʃənz]
第11级 |
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| n.努力( exertion的名词复数 )；费力；（能力、权力等的）运用；行使 | |
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swelled [sweld]
第7级 |
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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groans [ɡrəunz]
第7级 |
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| n.呻吟，叹息( groan的名词复数 )；呻吟般的声音v.呻吟( groan的第三人称单数 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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aggravated [ˈægrəveɪtɪd]
第7级 |
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| 使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 )； 使更严重； 激怒； 使恼火 | |
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gasped [ɡɑ:spt]
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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mortified [ˈmɔ:təˌfaɪd]
第11级 |
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| v.使受辱( mortify的过去式和过去分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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perfectly [ˈpɜ:fɪktli]
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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chunk [tʃʌŋk]
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| n.厚片，大块，相当大的部分（数量） | |
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outrageousness []
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| n. 残暴 蛮横 | |
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dangling [ˈdæŋgəlɪŋ]
第9级 |
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| 悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 )； 摆动不定； 用某事物诱惑…； 吊胃口 | |
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fascination [ˌfæsɪˈneɪʃn]
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| n.令人着迷的事物，魅力，迷恋 | |
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homage [ˈhɒmɪdʒ]
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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adherent [ədˈhɪərənt]
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| n.信徒，追随者，拥护者 | |
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disdain [dɪsˈdeɪn]
第8级 |
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| n.鄙视，轻视；v.轻视，鄙视，不屑 | |
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dismantled [disˈmæntld]
第10级 |
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| 拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 )； 拆卸； 废除； 取消 | |
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juvenile [ˈdʒu:vənaɪl]
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| n.青少年，少年读物；adj.青少年的，幼稚的 | |
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pariah [pəˈraɪə]
第11级 |
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| n.被社会抛弃者 | |
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dread [dred]
第7级 |
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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30
dreaded [ˈdredɪd]
第7级 |
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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31
gaudy [ˈgɔ:di]
第10级 |
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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32
perennial [pəˈreniəl]
第10级 |
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| adj.终年的；长久的 | |
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33
harassed [ˈhærəst]
第9级 |
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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34
hampered [ˈhæmpəd]
第7级 |
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| 妨碍，束缚，限制( hamper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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35
warts [wɔ:ts]
第11级 |
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| n.疣( wart的名词复数 )；肉赘；树瘤；缺点 | |
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36
wart [wɔ:t]
第11级 |
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| n.疣，肉赘；瑕疵 | |
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37
thatcher ['θætʃə(r)]
第10级 |
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| n.茅屋匠 | |
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38
baker [ˈbeɪkə(r)]
第7级 |
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| n.面包师 | |
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39
stump [stʌmp]
第8级 |
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| n.残株，烟蒂，讲演台；v.砍断，蹒跚而走 | |
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40
busted [ˈbʌstɪd]
第9级 |
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| adj. 破产了的，失败了的，被降级的，被逮捕的，被抓到的 动词bust的过去式和过去分词 | |
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41
corpse [kɔ:ps]
第7级 |
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| n.尸体，死尸 | |
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42
dodged [dɔdʒd]
第8级 |
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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43
specially [ˈspeʃəli]
第7级 |
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| adv.特定地；特殊地；明确地 | |
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44
mumble [ˈmʌmbl]
第8级 |
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| n./v.喃喃而语，咕哝 | |
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45
mighty [ˈmaɪti]
第7级 |
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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46
vacancy [ˈveɪkənsi]
第8级 |
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| n.（旅馆的）空位，空房，（职务的）空缺 | |
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47
isolated ['aisəleitid]
第7级 |
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| adj.与世隔绝的 | |
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48
peg [peg]
第8级 |
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| n.木栓，木钉；vt.用木钉钉，用短桩固定 | |
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49
alacrity [əˈlækrəti]
第10级 |
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| n.敏捷，轻快，乐意 | |
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50
dozing [dəuzɪŋ]
第8级 |
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| v.打瞌睡,假寐 n.瞌睡 | |
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51
lulled []
第8级 |
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| vt.使镇静，使安静（lull的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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52
drowsy [ˈdraʊzi]
第10级 |
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| adj.昏昏欲睡的，令人发困的 | |
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53
astounding [əˈstaʊndɪŋ]
第8级 |
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| adj.使人震惊的vt.使震惊，使大吃一惊astound的现在分词) | |
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54
confession [kənˈfeʃn]
第10级 |
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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55
mere [mɪə(r)]
第7级 |
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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56
notably [ˈnəʊtəbli]
第8级 |
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| adv.值得注意地，显著地，尤其地，特别地 | |
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57
rippled []
第7级 |
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| 使泛起涟漪（ripple的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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58
abash [ə'bæʃ]
第10级 |
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| vt.使窘迫，使局促不安 | |
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59
awe [ɔ:]
第7级 |
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| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
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60
idol [ˈaɪdl]
第8级 |
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| n.偶像，红人，宠儿 | |
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61
hitched [hitʃt]
第10级 |
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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62
winks [wiŋks]
第7级 |
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| v.使眼色( wink的第三人称单数 )；递眼色（表示友好或高兴等）；（指光）闪烁；闪亮 | |
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63
murmur [ˈmɜ:mə(r)]
第7级 |
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| n.低语，低声的怨言；vi.低语，低声而言；vt.低声说 | |
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64
furtive [ˈfɜ:tɪv]
第9级 |
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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65
scrawled [skrɔ:ld]
第10级 |
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| 乱涂，潦草地写( scrawl的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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66
scrawl [skrɔ:l]
第10级 |
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| vt.潦草地书写；n.潦草的笔记，涂写 | |
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67
slate [sleɪt]
第9级 |
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| n.板岩，石板，石片，石板色，候选人名单；adj.暗蓝灰色的，含板岩的；vt.用石板覆盖，痛打，提名，预订 | |
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68
apparently [əˈpærəntli]
第7级 |
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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69
dismal [ˈdɪzməl]
第8级 |
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| adj.阴沉的，凄凉的，令人忧郁的，差劲的 | |
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70
ERECTED [iˈrektid]
第7级 |
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| adj. 直立的，竖立的，笔直的 vt. 使 ... 直立，建立 | |
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71
portentous [pɔ:ˈtentəs]
第11级 |
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| adj.不祥的，可怕的，装腔作势的 | |
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72
whack [wæk]
第11级 |
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| vt.敲击，重打，瓜分；vi.重击；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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73
juncture [ˈdʒʌŋktʃə(r)]
第10级 |
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| n.时刻，关键时刻，紧要关头 | |
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74
giggles [ˈɡiɡlz]
第7级 |
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| n.咯咯的笑( giggle的名词复数 )；傻笑；玩笑；the giggles 止不住的格格笑v.咯咯地笑( giggle的第三人称单数 ) | |
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75
tingled [ˈtiŋɡld]
第10级 |
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
turmoil [ˈtɜ:mɔɪl]
第9级 |
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| n.骚乱，混乱，动乱 | |
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77
chaos [ˈkeɪɒs]
第7级 |
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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78
ostentation [ˌɒstenˈteɪʃn]
第11级 |
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| n.夸耀，卖弄 | |
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