Unit3ThePresent课文翻译大学英语一

Unit 3 The Present

They say that blood is thicker than water, that our relatives are more important to

us than others. Everyone was so kind to the old lady on her birthday. Surely her daughter would

make an even bigger effort to please her?

It was the old lady's birthday.

She got up early to be ready for the post. From the second floor flat she could see the

postman when he came down the street, and the little boy from the ground floor brought

up her letters on the rare occasions when anything came.

Today she was sure the would be something. Myra wouldn't forget her mother's birthday,

even if she seldom wrote at other times. Of course Myra was busy. Her husband had been made

Mayor, and Myra herself had got a medal for her work the aged.

The old lady was proud of Myra, but Enid was the daughter she loved. Enid had never married,

but had seemed content to live with her mother, and teach in a primary school round the corner.

One evening, however, Enid said,

you for a few days, Mother. Tomorrow I have to go into hospital--just a minor operation,

I'll soon be home.

In the morning she went, but never came back--she died on the operating table. Myra came to

the funeral, and in her efficient way arranged for Mrs. Morrison to come in and light the fire and give

the old lady her breakfast.

Two years ago that was, and since then Myra had been to see her mother three times,

but her husband never.

The old lady was eight today. She had put on her best dress. Perhaps-- perhaps

Myra might come. After all, eighty was a special birthday, another decade lined or

endured just as you chose to look at it.

Even if Myra did not come, she would send a present. The old lady was sure of that.

Two spots of colour brightened her cheeks. She was excited--like a child. She would enjoy

her day.

Yesterday Mrs. Morrison had given the flat an extra clean, and today she had brought

a card and a bunch of marigolds when she came to do the breakfast. Mrs. Grant downstairs had

made a cake, and in the afternoon she was going down there to tea. The

little boy, Johnnie, had been up with a packet of mints, and said he wouldn't go out

to play until the post had come.

What would she like? A pair of slippers perhaps. Or a new cardigan. A cardigan would be

lovely. Blue's such a pretty colour. Jim had always liked her in blue. Or a table

lamp. Or a book, a travel book, with pictures, or a little clock, with clear black numbers.

So many lovely things.

She stood by the window, watching. The postman turned round the corner on his bicycle. Her

heart beat fast. Johnnie had seen him too and ran to the gate.

Then clatter, clatter up the stairs. Johnnie knocked at her door.

He gave her four envelopes. Three were unsealed cards from old friends. The fourth

was sealed, in Myra's writing. The old lady felt a pang of disappointment.

Maybe the parcel was too large to come by letter post. That was it. It would come later by

parcel post. She must be patient.

Almost reluctantly she tore the envelope open. Folded in the card was a piece of paper. Written

on the card was a message under the printed Happy Birthday

-- Buy yourself something nice with

the cheque, Myra and Harold.