一個流浪漢的到訪

一個流浪漢的到訪

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，w hen 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？”

我在院門口晃悠，想著要不要去街對面找維娜玩，她是我五年級最好的朋友。這時，我看見從街上走來一個流浪漢。

“你好，小姑娘，”他說，“你媽媽在家嗎？”

我點點頭，把門打開讓他進了院子。經濟大蕭條時期，有許多流浪漢從河那邊的游民營來過我家，他看起來跟他們一樣，蓬亂的頭發從那頂不像樣的帽子下露了出來，破破爛爛的襯衣和褲子顯然被雨水淋濕過，還穿著睡過覺。他渾身散發著一種篝火燒焦的味道。

他慢吞吞地走到門口。我媽媽出來了，他問：“夫人，能不能給我點吃的？”

“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.

Verna had said the hobos told one another who would feed them.“They never come to my house，”she had announced proud ly.

So why does mama feed them？I wondered. A widow，she worked as a waitress in the mornings and sew ed at nights 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（赤褐色的；紅褐色）hair.

“Lovely，we don't know why those men don't work，”she said.“But they w ere babies once.And their mothers loved them，like I love you.”She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me c lose 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.”

“好吧，請坐在臺階上等一下。”

他坐在狹長的木板平臺上，那是兩間屋的走廊。不一會兒，媽媽打開簾子，遞給他一個三明治，用家里自制的厚面包片夾著幾大塊熟肉。她還給了他一杯牛奶。“謝謝您，夫人。”他說。

我在門上一邊搖晃著，一邊看著這個流浪漢狼吞虎咽地吃下那個三明治，喝干牛奶。然后，他站起來往外走，穿過了大門。“他們說你媽媽會給我東西吃。”他出門的時候對我說。

維娜曾說過，誰給流浪漢們東西吃，他們就會互相轉告。“他們從不去我家。”她驕傲地說道。

媽媽為什么要給他們東西吃呢？我很奇怪。媽媽是一個寡婦，上午在餐廳做服務員，晚上還要做縫紉來掙錢。她為什么要把東西給這些毫不相干的人吃呢？

我大步走進屋子，“維娜的媽媽說，這些人太懶了，不工作。我們為什么要給他們吃的呢？”

媽媽笑了，她藍色的圍裙和眼睛很相稱，也襯托著她赤褐色的頭發。

“寶貝，我們不知道他們為什么不工作，”她說，“但他們也曾是孩子，他們的媽媽愛他們，就像我愛你一樣。”她把雙手放在我肩頭，把我拉到她的圍裙邊，圍裙散發出漿洗過的和新烤的面包的味道。

“我給他們東西吃，是為了他們的媽媽。如果你餓了，又什么吃的都沒有，我希望他們的媽媽也能給你東西吃。”

（Sunny編譯）

Visit with a Tramp