【学习园地 英语精读】  

 Christmas was coming.  I wanted a pony.  To make sure that my par-
     ents understood, I declared that I wanted nothing else.
           \"Nothing but a pony?\"my father asked.
           \"Nothing, \"I said.
  5       \"Not even a pair of high boots?\"
           That was hard.  I did want boots,  but I stuck to the pony. \"No,  not
     even boots . \"
         \"Nor candy?  There ought to be  something to fill  your  stocking with,
     and Santa Claus can\'t put a pony into a stocking. \" .
10     That was true, and  he  couldn\'t  lead a  pony down the chimney either.
     But no. \"All  I want  is a pony. \"I said. \"If  I can\'t  have a  pony,  give  me
     nothing, nothing. \"
          On Christmas  Eve I  hung  up  my  stocking  along  with  my  sisters\' .
          The next  morning  my sisters  and  I  woke up at six.  Then we raced
15 downstairs to  the  fireplace.  And  there  they were,  the gifts,  all sorts of
     wonderful things, mixed-up piles of presents. Only my stocking was emp-
     ty;  it  hung  limp;  not a  thing  in  it;  and  under and around  it -- nothing.
     My sisters had knelt down, each by her pile of gifts; they were crying with
     delight, till they looked up and saw me standing there looking so miserable.
20 They came over to me and felt my stocking: nothing.
           I don\'t remember whether I cried at  that  moment,  but my sisters did.
     They ran with  me  back to my bed;  and there  we all cried till I became in
     dignant. That  helped some.  I got  up,  dressed,  and  driving  my  sisters
     away, I went out alone into the stable, and there, all by myself, I wept.
25 My mother came out to me and she tried to comfort me. But I wanted no
     comfort. She left me.and went on into the house with sharp words for my
     father.
          My sisters. came to me,. and I was rude. I ran away from them. I went
     around to the front of the house, sat down  on the steps, and the crying
30 over , I ached . I was wronged, I was hurt : And my father must have been
     hurt,  too,  a little I saw him looking out of  the window.  He was watching
     me or something for an hour or two,  drawing back the curtain so little lest
     I catch him, but I saw his  face, and I think I can see now the anxiety upon
     it, the worried impatience.
35       After an hour or two,  I caught sight of  a  man riding a pony down the
     street,  a pony  and a brand--new saddle;  the  most beautiful saddie  I ever
     saw, and it was a boy\'s saddle. And the pony ! As he drew near, I saw that
     the  pony was really a  small  horse,  with  a  black  mane and tail,  and one
     white  foot  and  a white  star on  his forehead.  For such  a horse  as that I
40 would have given anything.
           But the man  came  along,  reading  the numbers on the houses, and, as
     my hopes - my impossible hopes - rose, he looked at our door and passed
     by,  he and the pony, and the saddle. Too much,  I  fell upon the steps and
     broke into tears. Suddenly I heard a voice.
45        \"Say, kid,\"it said, \"do you know a boy named Lennie Steffens\"
            I looked up. It was the man on the pony, back again.
           \"Yes, \"I spluttered through my tears. \"That\'s me. \"
           \"Well, \"he said, \"then this is your horse. I\'ve been Iooking all over for
     you  and  your house.  Why don\'t  you  put  your number where it can be
50 seen? \"
           \"Get down, \"I said, running out to him. I wanted to ride.
           He went on saying something about \"ought to have got here at seven
     o\'clock, but --\"
     I hardly heard,  I  could scarcely wait.  I  was  so  happy,  so  thrilled.  I
55 rode off up the street. Such a beautiful pony.  And mine!  After a while I 
     turned and trotted back to the stable. There was the family, father, moth-
     er, sisters, all working for me, all happy. They had been putting .in place
     the tools of my new business: currycomb, brush, pitchfork - everything,
     and there was hay in the loft.
           But that Christmas, which my father had planned so carefully, was it
60 the best or the worst I ever knew? He often asked me that ; I never could
     answer as a boy.  I  think now that it was both.  It covered the whole dis-
     tance  from broken--hearted misery to bursting  happiness -- too fast.  A
     grown-up could hardly have stood it.

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