It was Thanksgiving early morning. I was busy preparing the traditional Thanksgiving dinner when the doorbell rang. I opened the gate and saw two little children in rags trembling on the top step.
“Any old papers, lady？” asked one of them.
I was busy. I wanted to say “no” until I looked down at their feet. They were wearing thin little sandals(凉鞋), wet with heavy snow.
“Come in and I'll make you a cup of hot cocoa.”
They walked over and sat down at the table. Their wet sandals left marks upon the floor. I served them cocoa and bread to fight against the cold outside. Then I went back to the kitchen and started cooking.
The silence in the front room struck me. I looked in. The girl held the empty cup in her hands, looking at it. The boy asked in a flat voice, “Lady, are you rich？”
“Am I rich? Pity, no！”
I looked at my poor slipcovers(椅套). The girl put her cup back in its saucer(茶碟)carefully and said, “Your cups match your saucers.” They left after that, holding their papers against the wind. They had reminded me that I
