2024年4月28日发(作者：)

55 Saving Christmas

一、请根据两个提示句进行故事续写，150词左右。

As Christmas decorations appeared in town, our parents called my two younger brothers and me together. I

had never seen my parents look so sad. Mom hugged me as she murmured (小声说), “Christmas is going to be

different this year. We won’t be having a tree or presents. We can barely afford food.”

Dad, resting on the couch with the swollen foot supported high on pillows, beckoned (示意) the boys into his

arms. “Things will change when I get back to work.” Dad worked in a coal mine. Unfortunately, he was hurt in a

rock fall that broke bones in his foot, which worsened our living conditions.

At nine years old, I mothered my younger brothers: Rodney, age six, and Stevie, three. We shared a small

bedroom. That night, after our parents’ announcement, we talked.

“Maybe we can do something to cheer them up,” I said with enthusiasm.

The boys sat up. “We can take the money from our piggy bank… earn some more… and surprise them with

gifts!”

“I can run errands (跑腿) for Aunt Em and neighbors to earn money,” I offered.

“Yeah,” Rodney added, “Stevie and can return pop bottles and save the deposit money… instead of buying

candy!” He elbowed Stevie.

“We’ll have to hide it!” Rodney suggested and then wondered, “Where?”

“In… piggy!” Stevie pointed to the piggy bank on the dresser (梳妆台).

“Not there,” I said. “Mommy’ll notice if it gets heavier.”

“I know!” Rodney raised a finger and pointed it downward. “In the shoebox!”

Under the big bed was a shoebox containing windup toys, marbles, plastic cowboys and a flashlight.

“Good idea!” We had a plan!

Until they nodded off, I coached my little brothers (especially Stevie) in ways to guard our secret. “Don’t talk

about it during the day.” “Act natural.” “Don’t let coins jingle.” We awoke in the morning, transformed. No longer

poor, sad children, we were secret agents on an important mission!

The following weeks saw me dashing home from school each day determined to earn a nickel or dime.

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On Christmas morning, we dashed into the living room bearing our gifts and a homemade card.

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二、原作品读

Saving Christmas

It was 1947. My family was poorer than dirt. As Christmas decorations appeared in town, our parents called

my two younger brothers and me together. Mom hugged me as she murmured, “Christmas is going to be different

this year. We won’t be having a tree or presents. We can barely afford food.” Dad, resting on the couch, beckoned

the boys into his arms. “Things will change when I get back to work.” When Dad worked, it was in a coal mine.

Unfortunately Dad was hurt in a rock fall that broke bones in his foot. Languishing on the couch with the swollen

foot propped high on pillows, he didn’t talk or smile much. There was little to smile about. No work, no income.

At nine years old, I mothered my younger brothers: Rodney, age six, and Stevie, three. We shared a small

bedroom. That night, after our parents’ announcement, we talked and planned to do something to cheer them up.

“We can take the money from our piggy bank, earn some more and surprise them with gifts!” Rodney

suggested.

“I can run errands for Aunt Em and neighbors to earn money,” I offered.

“Yeah,” Rodney added, “me and Stevie can return pop bottles and save the deposit money… instead of

buying candy!” He nudged Stevie.

“We’ll have to hide it!” Rodney exclaimed. Then wondered, “Where?”

“In the cowboy box under the big bed!” Rodney raised a finger and pointed it downward. Under the big bed

were stored boxes of all sorts containing windup toys, marbles, and two items that would meet our needs: a

shoebox filled with plastic cowboys and Indians, and a flashlight. Until they nodded off, I coached my little

brothers in ways to guard our secret. “Don’t talk about it during the day.” “Act natural.” “Don’t let coins jingle.”

We awoke in the morning, transformed. No longer poor, sad children, we were secret agents on an important

mission!

The following weeks saw me dashing home from school each day determined to earn a nickel or dime. At

night, after hearing our parents’ door close, we quietly held our secret meetings. With animated sign language and

the slightest of whispers, we’d add any new coins that we had stashed in a pocket or sock. Every two or three

nights, one of my brothers held the flashlight while I, the official treasurer (the only one who could add), counted

all the coins before my audience of two.

“When we get twenty more cents, we’ll have four dollars,” I announced one night. Silently exclaiming

“FOUR DOLLARS!” Rodney threw up his thin arms and rolled his large brown eyes.

A few days before Christmas, we cheerfully went shopping. We had less than five dollars, but with the

unforgettable charity of the store owner, we bought Mom a ceramic pink flamingo balanced on one thin leg, and

for Dad, a pair of fur-lined leather slippers.

The night of Christmas Eve seemed endless. At turns, I awoke, or one of my brothers woke me asking, “How

long ’til daylight?”

On Christmas morning, we hurried excitedly into the living room bearing our gifts and a homemade card.

Eagerly, we handed Mommy and Daddy the card and their gifts. They were more than surprised. They were

stunned! Opening the boxes, they became more stunned, asking confusing questions. “How did you…?” “Where

did you…?” “Who gave you…?” As we explained how we’d schemed and earned and saved our money, their

faces relaxed into expressions of astonishment. Then, through glistening tears, Mom and Dad gazed at us as if

they were seeing a sunrise.

The scent of Christmas pine from the scraggly tree (donated from the leftover pile) infused the room. Its