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Dick could see nothing, for the mistiness of his eyes. But he could hear a cracked, tired voice, filled with great pride, saying, “Round steak, maybe, and some rice and potatoes.”
迪克眼前一片模糊，什么也看不见。但是他能听见一个干裂的、疲惫的声音，充满自豪地说着，“也许有圆牛排，还有一些米饭和土豆。”
DICK BUYS A THANKSGIVING DINNER
迪克购买感恩节晚餐
“What are you buying a turkey for?” Mr. Holman, the fat grocer, asked in surprise when Dick made his purchase later in the day.
“你买火鸡干什么？”那天晚上迪克购买火鸡时时，胖胖的杂货商霍尔曼先生惊讶地问。
“Oh—I’m just getting one—for somebody,” Dick explained lamely. “And—I want some cranberries, too — and a pumpkin, a big one.”
迪克磕磕绊绊地解释道，“哦，我只是想给某人买一只，”“我还想要一些小红莓，一个南瓜，要大的。”
Mrs. Attson lived in a ramshackle little house, unpainted, with a low, sloping roof, down near the railroad tracks.Dick had hauled the washing down there once or twice when his mother did not wish the work done at their home. He trudged down that way now through the deep snow in the early dusk of that Wednesday afternoon, with a heavily loaded basket on his arm.
艾特森太太住在一所破旧的小房子里，房子没有上过漆、屋顶低矮倾斜，就在铁轨边上。迪克把洗好的衣服拖到那里一两次，因为他母亲不希望在家里干活。在那个星期三下午的黄昏，他挽着一个沉重的篮子，在深雪中跋涉而下。
It had been snowing all day. There must be a foot and a half or two feet of snow on the ground, a record-breaker for Forestville.Dick didn’t mind—so much. “I probably couldn’t walk on snowshoes if I had them,” he said to himself.
雪下了一整天。地面上一定有一英尺半或两英尺厚的雪，打破了森林小镇的纪录。迪克没那么在意。他自言自语道：“如果我穿着雪鞋的话，我可能就走不动了。”。
