It was a Saturday morning as I prepared to take my eight-year-old son, David, to the aquarium. His eyes were widened with excitement, and he chattered non-stop about the sea creatures we would see, the sharks, the dolphins... We boarded the bus, and after a few stops, we made ourselves comfortably seated. David gazed out the window, watching the world go by with wonder.

The bus continued its route, and with each stop, it became increasingly crowded. Passengers of varying ages and backgrounds filled the seats. David and I were engaged in a light-hearted conversation about marine life, our anticipation and joy building with each passing minute.

As we approached a mid-route bus stop, an elderly lady boarded, her movements labored and her legs visibly unsteady. The bus was full, and for a moment, there was an obvious hesitation among the passengers, each perhaps weighing the social morals against their own comfort. The elderly lady seized her walking aid, swaying slightly with each lurch of the vehicle.

Noticing the elderly lady’s struggle, David made a decision. Without a moment’s hesitation, he rose from his seat. His small hand gestured towards the elderly lady. “You can sit here, ma'am,” he said, his voice clear and sincere. The elderly lady’s face transformed with a mixture of surprise and gratitude. “Oh, thank you, boy,” she said, her voice filling up with emotion. David then took her hand gently, helping her navigate through the crowd to the seat he had left for her. With the help of David, the lady eased herself into the seat, her relief evident. I felt pride welling up within me as I watched what David had done. Looking at David, who was standing now, I saw not just the playful child he was known to be, but the empathetic and considerate young man he was growing into.

As the bus rolled on, it was filled with renewed warmth among the passengers.

That evening, as we returned home, I couldn’t help but reflect on the true treasure of the day.

“WOW. I can’t believe how many people are showing up for this!” Dandelion Pinkley said. She stood in the wide parking lot of the E-Z Life Elephant Sanctuary, watching a lot of cars getting close. Her brother Doodlebug, their cousin Rudyard, and other kids were with her. All of them were ready to wash those cars.

The elephants who lived at E-Z Life had been saved. Now they enjoyed a safe home. And every clean car meant a few more dollars to support their well-being. So working the car wash was a great way to spend a summer day!

The first few cars parked. The drivers paid, and the kids got to work.

“My car is messy!” one driver said as she paid up.

“You’re not kidding.” Doodlebug said. He began washing it.

Nearby, Cousin Rudyard began shining the bumpers (保险杠) on a classic car. “Whoopee!” he shouted. “I love this car, and it’s perfect now!”

He turned to the next car, singing a funny elephant song along with some other kids. A few elephants began to come together at the wooden fence (栅栏).

“They’re happy,” Dandelion’s best friend, Tomiko, said.

“And look at the babies,” Dandelion said, as one put its trunk (象鼻) through the fence and waved at them. “We need to work faster, so we can get them more money!”

All the kids stepped up the action. For a while, it was a lot of fun. The car wash went perfectly. People drove up and paid their money. But the noise and the summer heat began to wear the young car washers down.

“I can’t take this too much longer,” Doodlebug said to his sister.

“I know,” Dandelion agreed, “but there are still so many cars waiting for a wash.” The line of cars seemed endless.

“I need a break,” Rudyard said.

“But we need to help the elephants!” Dandelion said, wanting nothing more than to take a rest. A second later she did.

“What’s the matter with you kids?” one driver complained (抱怨). “It’s only midmorning. You can’t stop working because of tiredness. You’re kids!”

Doodlebug complained, but he started to work again.

But before Dandelion reached the next car in line, the elephants had begun shooting water out their trunks and spraying (喷洒) each car clean.

In a small town, there lived a young elementary school student named Timmy, whose lateness had become his worst trait (特点) in his school.

Every school morning, he struggled to get out of bed, often finding himself rushing through breakfast and forgetting important things like his homework or lunchbox. Meanwhile, his classmates would glance at the empty seat beside them, exchanging knowing looks as the clock ticked pa st the start of the class. When Timmy finally arrived, he would often find himself the center of attention, and his cheeks red with embarrassment as he apologised. Deep down, Timmy felt a growing sense of discomfort and shame about his habitual lateness. His teachers and classmates were concerned about the effect of his constant lateness on his studies.

One day, Timmy’s class teacher, Mrs. Johnson, decided to solve the issue. She approached Timmy with a gentle smile, “Timmy, can we talk about something important?”

Timmy looked up and replied, a bit nervous, “Sure, Mrs. Johnson.”

She crouched (蹲下) down to his level, speaking softly but seriously and sincerely, “I’ve noticed you’ve been late for class quite often. Do you know being on time is very important?”

Timmy lowered his head and said, “Yes, but...”

Mrs. Johnson continued, “Being on time helps you not miss out on your lessons. It’s also about respect for your classmates and me. When you’re late, it can disrupt (打乱) the whole class. We all miss you when you’re not here on time.”

Timmy nodded and said, a look of understanding on his face, “I didn’t realize it was affecting everyone. I’ll try to be better, Mrs. Johnson. But I have difficulty waking up and getting out of bed. Every morning when my alarm clock sounded, I hit the snooze (小睡) button, just 10 more minutes. Then 10 minutes later, another 10 minutes. That’s why I am always late for school.”

“Don’t worry. We’re all here to help you,” Mrs. Johnson said, offering a comforting smile.

In 1940, I worked in the checkroom of the railway station. I saw everybody that came up the stairs.

Harry was a young man who came to the station and waited at the head of the stairs for the passengers from the 9:05 train.

I remembered seeing Harry that first evening. He wasn’t much more than a thin, anxious kid then. He was all dressed up and I knew he was meeting his sister, who he hadn’t seen for many years.

Well, the passengers came up and I had to get busy. I didn’t look toward the stairs again until nearly time for the 9:18 and I was very surprised to see that the Harry was still there. His sister didn’t come on the 9:18 either, nor on the 9:40, and when the passengers from the 10:02 had all arrived and left, Harry was looking pretty upset. Pretty soon he came close to my window so I called out and asked him what his sister looked like.

“She’s small and dark. She is nineteen years old and very neat in the way she walk,” he said. “She has a face that has lots of spirit. I mean she can get mad but she never stays mad for long, and her eyebrows come to a little point in the middle. She’s got a brown fur, but maybe she isn’t wearing it.”

“I couldn’t remember seeing anybody like that,” I told him.

He showed me the telegram he’d received: ARRIVE THURSDAY. MEET ME AT THE STATION. MAY. It was from Omaha, Nebraska. “Well,” I finally said, “why don’t you phone to your home? She’s probably called there if she got in ahead of you.”

He gave me a sick look. “I’ve only been in the town for two days. We were going to meet and then drive down to the south of the city where I’ve got a job. She doesn’t have my address.”

When I came on duty the next day, Harry was still there and I asked more about his sister.

One day, after about two weeks, I thought I could say something encouraging to him.

I sat down to watch a recorded TV play after my husband left for his night-shift job. Not ten minutes into my favorite TV play, I was alerted to the unmistakable beep (哔哔声) of the smoke alarm indicating a low battery. Sighing, I paused my program and got up from the sofa.

I got a stepladder, climbed up it and quickly replaced the battery. The second I sat down and started watching my play, the beep started again. Evidently, the replacement battery was dead, too, so I went through all the motions again. I’d barely picked up the remote and pressed Play a third time when the alarm went off yet again. I gave out some unladylike comments. This time, I was one rung down when the same thing happened.

By then, I was out of all the batteries. I had to search the entire house for some electronic equipment that housed the same kind. I finally found one in an old clock. I crossed my fingers, hoping the battery still had some juice, and popped it in.

No luck! That round, plastic thing that was designed to save lives was about to make me have a nervous breakdown! Frustrated, I pulled the entire thing out of its “nest” and actually yelled at it to shut up before I tore it up into pieces. Holding it, I climbed back down and almost killed myself by practically falling over the dog and two cats who always watched every move I made and every breath I took. Driving my pet s away, I threw the alarm on the table and reminded myself to sleep fully clothed in case I smelled smoke. Carbon-monoxide (一氧化碳) detection would be taken care of by our back up alarm downstairs.

I glared at the troublesome item once more before walking off to seat myself on the sofa again. My program was already forty-five minutes into the play because I’d forgotten to pause it. Within seconds, that sound hit my ears again!