No, no, little boy. She shook her finger at him, her eyes searching for the child's mother or nurse. "We mustn't throw sand. It may get in someone's eyes and hurt. We must play nicely in the nice sandbox." The boy looked at her in unblinking expectancy. He was about Larry's age but perhaps ten pounds heavier, a husky little boy with none of Larry's quickness and sensitivity in his face. Where was his mother? The only other people left in the playground were two women and a little girl on roller skates leaving now through the gate, and a man on a bench a few feet away. He was a big man, and he seemed to be taking up the whole bench as he held the Sunday comics close to his face. She supposed he was the child's father. He did not look up from his comics, but spat once deftly out of the corner of his mouth. She turned her eyes away.
“不可以，不可以，孩子。”她对他摇着手指，同时眼睛搜寻着孩子的妈妈或者保姆。“我们不可以扬沙子。它会飞到别人眼睛里，很痛。沙箱这么好，我们得好好地玩。”这个男孩看着她，眼睛一眨不眨，好像在期待什么。他跟拉里年纪相仿，但是可能比拉里要重10磅，很壮实，从他脸上看不到拉里的活泼和机灵。他的妈妈在哪里？游乐场里就剩下两个女人和一个穿旱冰鞋的小女孩，她们正穿过大门离开，还有一个男人坐在几英尺外的长椅上。他块头很大，脸贴近手里拿着的周末连环画，整个长椅仿佛都被他占了。她觉得他就是孩子的父亲。他还在看连环画，头也不抬，但动作娴熟地从嘴角里吐了一口痰。她移开了视线。
At that moment, as swiftly as before, the fat little boy threw another spadeful of sand at Larry. This time some of it landed on his hair and forehead. Larry looked up at his mother, his mouth tentative; her expression would tell him whether to cry or not.
就在这个时候，那个小胖子又朝拉里扬了一铲沙，动作跟之前一样迅速。这次，一些沙子落在了拉里的头发和前额上。拉里抬头看着妈妈，试探性地撇了撇嘴，妈妈的表情将决定他要不要放声大哭。
Her first instinct was to rush to her son, brush the sand out of his hair, and punish the other child, but she controlled it. She always said that she wanted Larry to learn to fight his own battles.
她的第一反应就是想冲向儿子，掸掉他头发里的沙子，然后把那个孩子教训一顿，但她克制住了。她总是说她想让拉里学会自己保护自己。
Don't do that, little boy, she said sharply, leaning forward on the bench. "You mustn't throw sand!"
“不能那么做，孩子，”她坐在长椅上，身体前倾，厉声说道，“你不该扬沙子。”
The man on the bench moved his mouth as if to spit again, but instead he spoke. He did not look at her, but at the boy only.
那个坐在长椅上的男人嘴巴动了动，好像又要吐痰，但却开口说话了。他没有看她，只是盯着那个男孩。
You go right ahead, Joe, he said loudly. "Throw all you want. This here is a public sandbox."
“继续玩你的，乔，”他大声说，“想扬什么就扬什么。这里是公共沙箱。”
She felt a sudden weakness in her knees as she glanced at Morton. He had become aware of what was happening. He put his Times down carefully on his lap and turned his fine, lean face toward the man, a shy, apologetic smile on his face. When he spoke to the man, it was with his usual reasonableness.
她瞥了莫顿一眼，忽然感觉膝盖一阵发软。他已经明白了目前的状况。他把《时报》小心地放在腿上，转头看向那个男人，精致消瘦的脸庞上挂着腼腆、谦卑的微笑。他开口跟那个男人说话了，像平常一样，那么通情达理。
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