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chater ne the wrng dr（第1页）

Thisisastoryaboutsomethingthathappenedlongagowhenyourgrandfatherwasachild．ItisaveryimportantstorybecauseitshowshowallthecomingsandgoingsbetweenourownworldandthelandofNarniafirstbegan．

InthosedaysMr.SherlockHolmeswasstilllivinginBakerStreetandtheBastableswerelookingfortreasureintheLewishamRoad．Inthosedays，ifyouwereaboyyouhadtowearastiffEtoncollareveryday，andschoolswereusuallynastierthannow．Butmealswerenicer；andasforsweets，Iwon’ttellyouhowcheapandgoodtheywere，becauseitwouldonlymakeyourmouthwaterinvain．AndinthosedaystherelivedinLondonagirlcalledPollyPlummer．

Shelivedinoneofalongrowofhouseswhichwerealljoinedtogether．Onemorningshewasoutinthebackgardenwhenaboyscrambledupfromthegardennextdoorandputhisfaceoverthewall．Pollywasverysurprisedbecauseuptillnowtherehadneverbeenanychildreninthathouse，butonlyMr.KetterleyandMissKetterley，abrotherandsister，oldbachelorandoldmaid，livingtogether．Soshelookedup，fullofcuriosity．Thefaceofthestrangeboywasverygrubby．Itcouldhardlyhavebeengrubbierifhehadfirstrubbedhishandsintheearth，andthenhadagoodcry，andthendriedhisfacewithhishands．Asamatteroffact，thiswasverynearlywhathehadbeendoing．

“Hullo，”saidPolly．

“Hullo，”saidtheboy．“What’syourname？”

“Polly，”saidPolly．“What’syours？”

“Digory，”saidtheboy．

“Isay，whatafunnyname！”saidPolly．

“Itisn’thalfsofunnyasPolly，”saidDigory．

“Yesitis，”saidPolly．

“No，itisn’t，”saidDigory．

“AtanyrateIdowashmyface，”saidPolly，“Whichiswhatyouneedtodo；especiallyafter-”andthenshestopped．Shehadbeengoingtosay“Afteryou’vebeenblubbing，”butshethoughtthatwouldn’tbepolite．

“Allright，Ihavethen，”saidDigoryinamuchloudervoice，likeaboywhowassomiserablethathedidn’tcarewhoknewhehadbeencrying．“Andsowouldyou，”hewenton，“ifyou’dlivedallyourlifeinthecountryandhadapony，andariveratthebottomofthegarden，andthenbeenbroughttoliveinabeastlyHolelikethis．”

“Londonisn’taHole，”saidPollyindignantly．Buttheboywastoowounduptotakeanynoticeofher，andhewenton“AndifyourfatherwasawayinIndia-andyouhadtocomeandlivewithanAuntandanUnclewho’smad（whowouldlikethat？）-andifthereasonwasthattheywerelookingafteryourMother-andifyourMotherwasillandwasgoingto-goingto-die．”Thenhisfacewentthewrongsortofshapeasitdoesifyou’retryingtokeepbackyourtears．

“Ididn’tknow．I’msorry，”saidPollyhumbly．Andthen，becauseshehardlyknewwhattosay，andalsototurnDigory’smindtocheerfulsubjects，sheasked：

“IsMr.Ketterleyreallymad？”

“Welleitherhe’smad，”saidDigory，“orthere’ssomeothermystery．HehasastudyonthetopfloorandAuntLettysaysImustnevergoupthere．Well，thatlooksfishytobeginwith．Andthenthere’sanotherthing．Wheneverhetriestosayanythingtomeatmealtimes-henevereventriestotalktoher-shealwaysshutshimup．Shesays，‘Don’tworrytheboy，Andrew‘or’I’msureDigorydoesn’twanttohearaboutthat‘orelse’Now，Digory，wouldn’tyouliketogooutandplayinthegarden？”

“Whatsortofthingsdoeshetrytosay？”

“Idon’tknow．Henevergetsfarenough．Butthere’smorethanthat．Onenight-itwaslastnightinfact-asIwasgoingpastthefootoftheattic-stairsonmywaytobed（andIdon’tmuchcareforgoingpastthemeither）I’msureIheardayell．”

“Perhapshekeepsamadwifeshutupthere．”

“Yes，I’vethoughtofthat．

“Orperhapshe’sacoiner．”

“Orhemighthavebeenapirate，likethemanatthebeginningofTreasureIsland，andbealwayshidingfromhisoldshipmates．”

“Howexciting！”saidPolly，“Ineverknewyourhousewassointeresting．”

“Youmaythinkitinteresting，”saidDigory．“Butyouwouldn’tlikeitifyouhadtosleepthere．HowwouldyouliketolieawakelisteningforUncleAndrew’ssteptocomecreepingalongthepassagetoyourroom？Andhehassuchawfuleyes．”

ThatwashowPollyandDigorygottoknowoneanother：andasitwasjustthebeginningofthesummerholidaysandneitherofthemwasgoingtotheseathatyear，theymetnearlyeveryday．

Theiradventuresbeganchieflybecauseitwasoneofthewettestandcoldestsummerstherehadbeenforyears．Thatdrovethemtodoindoorthings：youmightsay，indoorexploration．Itiswonderfulhowmuchexploringyoucandowithastumpofcandleinabighouse，orinarowofhouses．Pollyhaddiscoveredlongagothatifyouopenedacertainlittledoorinthebox-roomatticofherhouseyouwouldfindthecisternandadarkplacebehinditwhichyoucouldgetintobyalittlecarefulclimbing．Thedarkplacewaslikealongtunnelwithbrickwallononesideandslopingroofontheother．Intherooftherewerelittlechunksoflightbetweentheslates．Therewasnofloorinthistunnel：youhadtostepfromraftertorafter，andbetweenthemtherewasonlyplaster．Ifyousteppedonthisyouwouldfindyourselffallingthroughtheceilingoftheroombelow．Pollyhadusedthebitofthetunneljustbesidethecisternasasmugglers’cave．Shehadbroughtupbitsofoldpackingcasesandtheseatsofbrokenkitchenchairs，andthingsofthatsort，andspreadthemacrossfromraftertoraftersoastomakeabitoffloor．Hereshekeptacash-boxcontainingvarioustreasures，andastoryshewaswritingandusuallyafewapples．Shehadoftendrunkaquietbottleofginger-beerinthere：theoldbottlesmadeitlookmorelikeasmugglers’cave．

Digoryquitelikedthecave（shewouldn’tlethimseethestory）buthewasmoreinterestedinexploring．

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