·Isaac·
I was swinging on the front gate，trying to decide whether to walk down the street to play with Verna，my best friend in fifth grade，when I saw a tramp come up the road.
“Hello，little girl，”he said，“is your mama at home?”
I nodded and swung the gate open to let him in the yard. He looked like all the tramps who came to our house from the hobo camp by the river during the Great Depression. His shaggy hair hung below a shapeless hat，and his threadbare shirt and trousers had been rained on and slept in. He smelled like a bonfire.
He shuffled to the door. When my mother appeared，he asked，“Lady，could you spare a bite to eat?”
“I think so. Please sit on the step.”
He dropped onto the narrow wooden platform that served as the front porch of our two-room frame house. In minutes my mother opened the screen and handed him a sandwich made from thick slices of homemade bread and generous chunks of boiled meat. She gave him a tin cup of milk.“I thank you，lady.”he said.
I swung on the gate，watching the tramp wolf down the sandwich and drain the cup. Then he stood and walked back through the gate.“They said your mama would feed me.”he told me on the way out.
Vema had said the hobos told one another who would feed them.“They never come to my house.”she had announced proudly.
So why does Mama feed them? I wondered. A widow，she worked as a waitress in the mornings and sewed at night to earn money. Why should she give anything to men who didn’t work at all?
I marched inside.“Verna’s mother says those men are too lazy to work. Why do we feed them?”
My mother smiled. Her blue housedress matched her eyes and emphasized her auburn hair.
“Lovely，we don’t know why those men don’t work，”she said，“but they were babies once. And their mothers loved them，like I love you.”She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me close to her apron，which smelled of starch and freshly baked bread.
“I feed them for their mothers，because if you were ever hungry and had nothing to eat，I would want their mothers to feed you.”
一个流浪汉的来访
艾萨克
我在院门口晃悠，想着要不要沿街去找维娜玩，她是我五年级最好的朋友。这时，我看见一个流浪汉从街上走来。
“你好，小姑娘，”他说，“你妈妈在家吗？”
我点点头并把门打开让他进了院子。经济大萧条时期，有许多流浪汉从河那边的游民营来过我家，他看起来跟他们一样。蓬乱的头发从那顶不成型的帽子下露了出来，破破烂烂的衬衣和裤子显然被雨水淋湿过，还穿着睡过觉。他浑身散发着一种篝火烧焦的味道。
他慢吞吞地走到门口。我妈妈出来了，他问，“夫人，能不能给我点吃的？”
“好吧，请坐在台阶上等一下。”
他坐在狭长的木板平台上，那是两间屋的前廊。不一会儿，妈妈打开帘子，递给他一个三明治。用家里自制的厚面包片夹着几大块熟肉。她还给了他一杯牛奶。“谢谢您，夫人。”他说。
我在门口一边晃悠着，一边看着这个流浪汉狼吞虎咽地吃下那个三明治，喝干牛奶。然后，他站起来，穿过了大门往外走。“他们说你妈妈会给我东西吃。”他出门的时候对我说。
维娜曾说过，谁给流浪汉们东西吃，他们就会互相转告。“他们从不去我家。”她骄傲地说道。
妈妈为什么要给他们东西吃呢？我很奇怪。妈妈是一个寡妇，上午在餐厅做服务员，晚上还要做缝纫来挣钱。她为什么要把东西给这些毫不相干的人吃呢？
我大步走进屋子，“维娜的妈妈说，这些人太懒了，都不工作。我们为什么要给他们吃的呢。”
妈妈笑了，她蓝色的围裙和眼睛很相称，也衬托着她赤褐色的头发。
“宝贝，我们不知道他们为什么不工作。”她说，“但他们也曾是孩子，他们的妈妈也爱他们，就像我爱你一样。”她把双手放在我肩头，把我拉到她的身边，围裙散发出浆洗过的和新烤的面包的味道。
“我给他们东西吃，是为了他们的妈妈。如果你饿了，又什么吃的都没有，我希望他们的妈妈也能给你东西吃。”
实战提升篇
核心单词
shaggy [5FA^i] adj.有粗毛的； 头发蓬乱的
appear [E5piE] v. 出现；显露
generous [5dVenErEs] adj. 慷慨的，大方的
announce [E5nauns] v. 宣布，发布
march [mB:tF] n.步调，进展
hungry [5hQN^ri] adj. 饥饿的； 渴望的
实用句型
She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me close to her apron，which smelled of starch and freshly baked bread.
她把双手放在我肩头，把我拉到她的身边，围裙散发出浆洗过的和新烤的面包的味道。
①这里是由which引导的非限定性定语从句。
②put on穿上，把……放在……上，类似的表达还有put up建造；put aside撇开；put away把……收起，放好等固定搭配。
翻译行不行
1.那张沙发当作床用。（serve as）
2.说到德语，我一窍不通。（come to）
3.小男孩还不到上学年龄。（too...to...）
第一章 Forgotten and Forgiven (1)
·Anonymous·
As I sat perched in the second-floor window of our brick schoolhouse that afternoon，my heart began to sink further with each passing car. This was a day I’d looked forward to for weeks: Miss Pace’s fourth-grade，end-of-the-year party. Miss Pace had kept a running countdown on the blackboard all that week，and our class of nine-year-olds had bordered on insurrection by the time the much-anticipated“party Friday”had arrived.
I had happily volunteered my mother when Miss Pace requested cookie volunteers. Mom’s chocolate chips reigned supreme on our block，and I knew they’d be a hit with my classmates. But two o’clock passed，and there was no sign of her. Most of the other mothers had already come and gone，dropping off their offerings of punch and crackers，chips，cupcakes and brownies. My mother was missing in action.
“Don’t worry，Robbie，she’ll be along soon.”Miss Pace said as I gazed forlornly down at the street. I looked at the wall clock just in time to see its black minute hand shift to half-past.
Around me，the noisy party raged on，but I wouldn’t budge from my window watch post. Miss Pace did her best to coax me away，but I stayed out，holding out hope that the familiar family car would round the corner，carrying my rightfully embarrassed mother with a tin of her famous cookies tucked under her arm.
The three o’clock bell soon jolted me from my thoughts，and I dejectedly grabbed my book bag from my desk and shuffled out the door for home.
