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, and the little boy from the ground floor brought up her letters on rare occasions (场合) when anything came.
Today she was sure there would be something. Myra wouldn’t forget her mother’s birthday, even if she seldom wrote at other times. Of course Myra was busy, and she herself had got a medal for her work for the aged. The old lady was proud of Myra. And Myra had been to see her mother three times since two years ago.
The old lady was eighty today. She had put on her best dress. Perhaps Myra might come. After all, eighty was a special birthday. Even if Myra did not come, she would send a present. She was excited, like a child.
Mrs. Morrison had cleaned the flat, and she had brought a bunch of flowers when she came to do the breakfast. Mrs. Grant downstairs had made a cake. Little Johnnie had been up with a packet of mints (薄荷), and said he wouldn’t go out to play until the post had come.
“I guess you’ll get lots of presents,” he said.
What would it be? A pair of slippers, a table lamp, or a travel book? She stood by the window, watching. The postman turned round the corner on his bicycle. Her heart beat fast.
Johnnie knocked at her door. “Granny, granny,” he shouted, “I have got your post.”
He gave her four envelopes. Three were unsealed cards from old friends. The fourth was sealed (封闭的), in Myra’s writing. The old lady felt a sudden feeling of disappointment.
Almost reluctantly (不情愿地) 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 (支票), Myra.
The cheque dropped to the floor like a bird with a broken wing. Slowly the old lady picked it up. With trembling fingers she tore it into pieces.
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