The Diary of a Goose Girl(牧鹅女日记).pdf

The Diary of a Goose Girl
The Diary of a Goose
Girl
by Kate Douglas Wiggin
1
The Diary of a Goose Girl
THORNYCROFT FARM, near
Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.
In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest
of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares and
rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the role of Goose Girl,
because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I always
yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what I now am.
As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other day, a fat
buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of progression, I chanced
upon the village of Barbury Green.
One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see,
could see with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving about a
little, struggling to conceal my new-born passion from the stable- boy who
was my escort. Then, it being high noon of a cloudless day, I descended
from the trap and said to the astonished yokel: "You may go back to the
Hydropathic; I am spending a month or two here. Wait a moment--I'll
send a message, please!"
I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in custody.
"I am very tired of people," the note ran, "and want to rest myself by
living a while with things. Address me (if you must) at Barbury Green
post-office, or at all events send me a box of simple clothing there--
nothing but shirts and skirts, please. I cannot forget that I am only
twenty miles from Oxenbridge (though it might be one hundred and
twenty, which is the reason I adore it), but I rely upon you to keep an
honourable distance yourselves, and not to divulge my place of retreat to
others, especially to--you know whom! Do not pursue me. I will never
be taken alive!"
Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and having
seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a cloud of dust, I
looked about me with what Stevenson call