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, when I saw a tramp1 come up the road.

我在院门口晃悠，想着要不要去街对面找维娜玩，她是我五年级最好的朋友。这时，我看见从街上走来一个流浪汉。

“Hello, little girl,” he said. “Is your mama at home？”

“你好，小姑娘，”他说，“你妈妈在家吗？”

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 hobo2 camp by the river during the Great Depression. His shaggy hair hung below a shapeless hat, and his threadbare3 shirt and trousers had been rained on and slept in. He smelled like a bonfire4.

我点点头，把门打开让他进了院子。经济大萧条时期，有许多流浪汉从河那边的游民营来过我家，他看起来跟他们一样，蓬乱的头发从那顶不像样的帽子下露了出来，破破烂烂的衬衣和裤子显然被雨水淋湿过，还穿着睡过觉。他浑身散发着一种篝火烧焦的味道。

He shuffled¹ to the door. When my mother appeared, he asked, “Lady, could you spare a bite to eat？”

他慢吞吞地走到门口。我妈妈出来了，他问：“夫人，能不能给我点吃的？”

“I think so. Please sit on the step.”

“好吧，请坐在台阶上等一下。”

He dropped onto the narrow wooden platform that served as the front porch of our tworoom frame house. In minutes my mother opened the screen and handed him a sandwich made from thick slices of homemade bread and generous chunks5 of boiled meat. She gave him a tin cup of milk. “I thank you, lady,” he said.

他坐在狭长的木板平台上，那是两间屋的走廊。不一会儿，妈妈打开帘子，递给他一个三明治，用家里自制的厚面包片夹着几大块熟肉。她还给了他一杯牛奶。“谢谢您，夫人。”他说。

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.

我在门上一边摇晃着，一边看着这个流浪汉狼吞虎咽地吃下那个三明治，喝干牛奶。然后，他站起来，往外走穿过了大门。“他们说你妈妈会给我东西吃。”他出门的时候对我说。

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

维娜曾说过，谁给流浪汉们东西吃，他们就会互相转告。“他们从不去我家。”她骄傲地说道。

So why does Mama feed them？ I wondered. A widow, she worked as a waitress in the mornings and sewed at nights to earn money. Why should she give anything to men who didn’t work at all？

妈妈为什么要给他们东西吃呢？我很奇怪。妈妈是一个寡妇，上午在餐厅做服务员，晚上还要做缝纫来挣钱。她为什么要把东西给这些毫不相干的人吃呢？

I marched6 inside. “Verna’s mother says those men are too lazy to work. Why do we feed them？”

我大步走进屋子，“维娜的妈妈说，这些人太懒了，不工作。我们为什么要他们给吃的呢？”

My mother smiled. Her blue housedress matched her eyes and emphasized her auburn7 hair.

妈妈笑了，她蓝色的围裙和眼睛很相称，也衬托着她赤褐色的头发。

“Lovely, we don’t know why those men don’t work,” she said. “But they were babies once. And their mothers loved them, like I love you.” She put her hands on my shoulders and drew me close to her apron², which smelled of starch³ and freshly baked bread.

“宝贝，我们不知道他们为什么不工作，”她说，“但他们也曾是孩子，他们的妈妈爱他们，就像我爱你一样。”她把双手放在我肩头，把我拉到她的围裙边，围裙散发出浆洗过的和新烤的面包的味道。

“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.”

“我给他们东西吃，是为了他们的妈妈。如果你饿了，又什么吃的都没有，我希望他们的妈妈也能给你东西吃。”