"Any old papers, lady?"

“太太，请问您有旧报纸吗？”

I was busy. I wanted to say no -- until I looked down at their feet. Thin little sandals, sopped with sleet.

当时，我正忙着，本来想对他们说没有，但当我看到他们脚上只穿着一双被冰雪浸湿得再单薄不过的便鞋时，我再也说不出口了。

"Come in and I'll make you a cup of hot cocoa."

“进屋来吧，我来给你们煮一杯热可可茶。”

There was no conversation. Their soggy sandals left marks upon the hearthstone. I served them cocoa and toast with jam to fortify against the chill outside.Then I went back to the kitchen and started again on my household budget.

默默地他们跟我进了屋，炉边他们浸湿的便鞋留下了一串脚印。我给他们端上可可茶和果酱面包，我想这能帮助他们抵御外面的风寒。然后我回到了厨房，像往常一样，为了明天的生活而精打细算。

The silence in the front room struck through to me. I looked in. The girl held the empty cup in her hands, looking at it. The boy asked in a flat voice," Lady ... are you rich?"

前屋里没有一点声音，这让我感到很奇怪。我向屋里望去，小女孩手里正端着那个已经喝完了的茶杯，认真地凝视着，“太太，您富有吗？”男孩子语气平缓地问道。

"Am I rich? Mercy, no!" I looked at my shabby slipcovers. The girl put her cup back in its saucer -- carefully.

"Your cups match your saucers."

“我富有吗？”我看了看沙发上那寒酸的装饰布，回答说，“天哪，我可算不上。”这时，那个小女孩非常小心地把杯子放回到茶碟里。“您的杯子和茶碟非常相配。”

Her voice was old, with a hunger that was not of the stomach. They left then, holding their bundles of papers against the wind. They hadn't said thank you.

她说话的声音听起来不像是个孩子，带着一种对食物以外的东西的渴望。然后，他们抱着旧报纸，顶着风雪离开了。他们甚至没有说一声“谢谢”，是的，他们根本没有必要说，实际上他们所做的比道谢更重要。非常平常的一对兰色陶瓷杯碟，但它们确实很相配。

They didn't need to. They had done more than that. Plain blue pottery cups and saucers. But they matched.I tested the potatoes and stirred the gravy. Potatoes and brown gravy, a roof over our heads, my man with a good steady job -- these things matched, too.

我查看了一下锅里煮着的土豆然后又搅拌了几下肉汁。有土豆和棕色肉汤可以吃，有房子可以住，我的丈夫有一份很好很稳定的工作--这一切的一切同样也很匹配。

I moved the chairs back from the fire and tidied the living room. The muddy prints of small sandals were still wet upon my hearth. I let them be.I want them there in case I ever forget again how very rich I am。

我把椅子从炉边向后拉开些，然后把起居室整理干净。地面上留下的泥脚印还没干。是的，我想让它们留在那里，提醒我不要忘了我是多么的富有。