《嘉莉妹妹》初窥门径：希望之光
The, to Carrie, very important theatrical performance was to take place at the Avery on conditions which were to make it more noteworthy than was at first anticipated. The little dramatic student had written to Hurstwood the very morning her part was brought her that she was going to take part in a play.
"I really am," she wrote, feeling that he might take it as a jest; "I have my part now, honest, truly."
Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this.
"I wonder what it is going to be? I must see that."
He answered at once, making a pleasant reference to her ability. "I haven't the slightest doubt you will make a success. You must come to the park to-morrow morning and tell me all about it."
Carrie gladly complied, and revealed all the details of the undertaking as she understood it.
"Well," he said, "that's fine. I'm glad to hear it. Of course, you will do well, you're so clever."
He had truly never seen so much spirit in the girl before. Her tendency to discover a touch of sadness had for the nonce disappeared. As she spoke her eyes were bright, her cheeks red. She radiated much of the pleasure which her undertakings gave her. For all her misgivings -- and they were as plentiful as the moments of the day -- she was still happy. She could not repress her delight in doing this little thing which, to an ordinary observer, had no importance at all.
Hurstwood was charmed by the development of the fact that the girl had capabilities. There is nothing so inspiring in life as the sight of a legitimate ambition, no matter how incipient. It gives colour, force, and beauty to the possessor.
Carrie was now lightened by a touch of this divine afflatus. She drew to herself commendation from her two admirers which she had not earned. Their affection for her naturally heightened their perception of what she was trying to do and their approval of what she did. Her inexperience conserved her own exuberant fancy, which ran riot with every straw of opportunity, making of it a golden divining rod whereby the treasure of life was to be discovered.
"Let's see," said Hurstwood, "I ought to know some of the boys in the lodge. I'm an Elk myself."
"Oh, you mustn't let him know I told you."
"That's so," said the manager.
"I'd like for you to be there, if you want to come, but I don't see how you can unless he asks you."
"I'll be there," said Hurstwood affectionately. "I can fix it so he won't know you told me. You leave it to me."
This interest of the manager was a large thing in itself for the performance, for his standing among the Elks was something worth talking about. Already he was thinking of a box with some friends, and flowers for Carrie. He would make it a dress-suit affair and give the little girl a chance.
Within a day or two, Drouet dropped into the Adams Street resort, and he was at once spied by Hurstwood. It was at five in the afternoon and the place was crowded with merchants, actors, managers, politicians, a goodly company of rotund, rosy figures, silk-hatted, starchy-bosomed, beringed and bescarfpinned to the queen's taste. John L. Sullivan, the pugilist, was at one end of the glittering bar, surrounded by a company of loudly dressed sports, who were holding a most animated conversation. Drouet came across the floor with a festive stride, a new pair of tan shoes squeaking audibly at his progress.
"Well, sir," said Hurstwood, "I was wondering what had become of you. I thought you had gone out of town again."
Drouet laughed.
"If you don't report more regularly we'll have to cut you off the list."
"Couldn't help it," said the drummer, "I've been busy."
They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shifting company of notables. The dressy manager was shaken by the hand three times in as many minutes.
"I hear your lodge is going to give a performance," observed Hurstwood, in the most offhand manner.
"Yes, who told you?"
"No one," said Hurstwood. "They just sent me a couple of tickets, which I can have for two dollars. Is it going to be any good?"
"I don't know," replied the drummer. "They've been trying to get me to get some woman to take a part."
"I wasn't intending to go," said the manager easily. "I'll subscribe, of course. How are things over there?"
"All right. They're going to fit things up out of the proceeds."
"Well," said the manager, "I hope they make a success of it. Have another?"
He did not intend to say any more. Now, if he should appear on the scene with a few friends, he could say that he had been urged to come along. Drouet had a desire to wipe out the possibility of confusion.
"I think the girl is going to take a part in it," he said abruptly, after thinking it over.
"You don't say so！ How did that happen?"
"Well, they were short and wanted me to find them some one. I told Carrie, and she seems to want to try."
"Good for her," said the manager. "It'll be a real nice affair. Do her good, too. Has she ever had any experience?"
"Not a bit."
"Oh, well, it isn't anything very serious."
"She's clever, though," said Drouet, casting off any imputation against Carrie's ability. "She picks up her part quick enough."
"You don't say so！" said the manager.
"Yes, sir; she surprised me the other night. By George, if she didn't."
"We must give her a nice little send-off," said the manager. "I'll look after the flowers."
Drouet smiled at his good-nature.
"After the show you must come with me and we'll have a little supper."
"I think she'll do all right," said Drouet.
"I want to see her. She's got to do all right. We'll make her," and the manager gave one of his quick, steely half-smiles, which was a compound of good-nature and shrewdness.
Carrie, meanwhile, attended the first rehearsal. At this performance Mr. Quincel presided, aided by Mr. Millice, a young man who had some qualifications of past experience, which were not exactly understood by any one. He was so experienced and so business-like, however, that he came very near being rude -- failing to remember, as he did, that the individuals he was trying to instruct were volunteer players and not salaried underlings.
"Now, Miss Madenda," he said, addressing Carrie, who stood in one part uncertain as to what move to make, "you don't want to stand like that. Put expression in your face. Remember, you are troubled over the intrusion of the stranger. Walk so," and he struck out across the Avery stage in a most drooping manner.
Carrie did not exactly fancy the suggestion, but the novelty of the situation, the presence of strangers, all more or less nervous, and the desire to do anything rather than make a failure, made her timid. She walked in imitation of her mentor as requested, inwardly feeling that there was something strangely lacking.
"Now, Mrs. Morgan," said the director to one young married woman who was to take the part of Pearl, "you sit here. Now, Mr. Bamberger, you stand here, so. Now, what is it you say?"
"Explain," said Mr. Bamberger feebly. He had the part of Ray, Laura's lover, the society individual who was to waver in his thoughts of marrying her, upon finding that she was a waif and a nobody by birth.
"How is that -- what does your text say?"
"Explain," repeated Mr. Bamberger, looking intently at his part.
"Yes, but it also says," the director remarked, "that you are to look shocked. Now, say it again, and see if you can't look shocked."
"Explain！" demanded Mr. Bamberger vigorously.
"No, no, that won't do！ Say it this way -- explain."
"Explain," said Mr. Bamberger, giving a modified imitation.
"That's better. Now go on."
"One night," resumed Mrs. Morgan, whose lines came next, "father and mother were going to the opera. When they were crossing Broadway, the usual crowd of children accosted them for alms-"
"Hold on," said the director, rushing forward, his arm extended. "Put more feeling into what you are saying."
Mrs. Morgan looked at him as if she feared a personal assault. Her eye lightened with resentment.
"Remember, Mrs. Morgan," he added, ignoring the gleam, but modifying his manner, "that you're detailing a pathetic story. You are now supposed to be telling something that is a grief to you. It requires feeling, repression, thus: 'The usual crowd of children accosted them for alms.'"
"All right," said Mrs. Morgan.
"Now, go on."
"As mother felt in her pocket for some change, her fingers touched a cold and trembling hand which had clutched her purse."
"Very good," interrupted the director, nodding his head significantly.
"A pickpocket！ Well！" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger, speaking the lines that here fell to him.
"No, no, Mr. Bamberger," said the director, approaching, "not that way. 'A pickpocket -- well?' so. That's the idea."
"Don't you think," said Carrie weakly, noticing that it had not been proved yet whether the members of the company knew their lines, let alone the details of expression, "that it would be better if we just went through our lines once to see if we know them? We might pick up some points."
"A very good idea, Miss Madenda," said Mr. Quincel, who sat at the side of the stage, looking serenely on and volunteering opinions which the director did not heed.
"All right," said the latter, somewhat abashed, "it might be well to do it." Then brightening, with a show of authority, "Suppose we run right through, putting in as much expression as we can."
"Good," said Mr. Quincel.
"This hand," resumed Mrs. Morgan, glancing up at Mr. Bamberger and down at her book, as the lines proceeded, "my mother grasped in her own, and so tight that a small, feeble voice uttered an exclamation of pain. Mother looked down, and there beside her was a little ragged girl."
"Very good," observed the director, now hopelessly idle.
"The thief！" exclaimed Mr. Bamberger.
"Louder," put in the director, finding it almost impossible to keep his hands off.
"The thief！" roared poor Bamberger.
"Yes, but a thief hardly six years old, with a face like an angel's. 'Stop,' said my mother. 'What are you doing?'
"'Trying to steal,' said the child.
"'Don't you know that it is wicked to do so?' asked my father.
"'No,' said the girl, 'but it is dreadful to be hungry.'
"'Who told you to steal?' asked my mother.
"'She -- there,' said the child, pointing to a squalid woman in a doorway opposite, who fled suddenly down the street. 'That is old Judas,' said the girl."
Mrs. Morgan read this rather flatly, and the director was in despair. He fidgeted around, and then went over to Mr. Quincel.
"What do you think of them?" he asked.
"Oh, I guess we'll be able to whip them into shape," said the latter, with an air of strength under difficulties.
"I don't know," said the director. "That fellow Bamberger strikes me as being a pretty poor shift for a lover."
"He's all we've got," said！ Quincel, rolling up his eyes. "Harrison went back on me at the last minute. Who else can we get?"
"I don't know," said the director. "I'm afraid he'll never pick up."
At this moment Bamberger was exclaiming, "Pearl, you are joking with me."
"Look at that now," said the director, whispering behind his hand. "My Lord！ what can you do with a man who drawls out a sentence like that?"
"Do the best you can," said Quincel consolingly.
The rendition ran on in this wise until it came to where Carrie, as Laura, comes into the room to explain to Ray, who, after hearing Pearl's statement about her birth, had written the letter repudiating her, which, however, he did not deliver. Bamberger was just concluding the words of Ray, "I must go before she returns. Her step！ Too late," and was cramming the letter in his pocket, when she began sweetly with:
"Ray！"
"Miss -- Miss Courtland," Bamberger faltered weakly.
Carrie looked at him a moment and forgot all about the company present. She began to feel the part, and summoned an indifferent smile to her lips, turning as the lines directed and going to a window, as if he were not present. She did it with a grace which was fascinating to look upon.
"Who is that woman?" asked the director, watching Carrie in her little scene with Bamberger.
"Miss Madenda," said Quincel.
"I know her name," said the director, "but what does she do?"
"I don't know," said Quincel. "She's a friend of one of our members."
"Well, she's got more gumption than any one I've seen here so far -- seems to take an interest in what she's doing."
"Pretty, too, isn't she?" said Quincel.
The director strolled away without answering.
In the second scene, where she was supposed to face the company in the ball-room, she did even better, winning the smile of the director, who volunteered, because of her fascination for him, to come over and speak with her.
"Were you ever on the stage?" he asked insinuatingly.
"No," said Carrie.
"You do so well, I thought you might have had some experience."
Carrie only smiled consciously.
He walked away to listen to Bamberger, who was feebly spouting some ardent line.
Mrs. Morgan saw the drift of things and gleamed at Carrie with envious and snapping black eyes.
"She's some cheap professional," she gave herself the satisfaction of thinking, and scorned and hated her accordingly.
The rehearsal ended for one day, and Carrie went home feeling that she had acquitted herself satisfactorily. The words of the director were ringing in her ears, and she longed for an opportunity to tell Hurstwood. She wanted him to know just how well she was doing. Drouet, too, was an object for her confidences. She could hardly wait until he should ask her, and yet she did not have the vanity to bring it up. The drummer, however, had another line of thought to-night, and her little experience did not appeal to him as important. He let the conversation drop, save for what she chose to recite without solicitation, and Carrie was not good at that. He took it for granted that she was doing very well and he was relieved of further worry. Consequently he threw Carrie into repression, which was irritating. She felt his indifference keenly and longed to see Hurstwood. It was as if he were now the only friend she had on earth. The next morning Drouet was interested again, but the damage had been done.
She got a pretty letter from the manager, saying that by the time she got it he would be waiting for her in the park. When she came, he shone upon her as the morning sun.
"Well, my dear," he asked, "how did you come out?"
"Well enough," she said, still somewhat reduced after Drouet.
"Now, tell me just what you did. Was it pleasant?"
Carrie related the incidents of the rehearsal, warming up as she proceeded.
"Well, that's delightful," said Hurstwood. "I'm so glad. I must get over there to see you. When is the next rehearsal?"
"Tuesday," said Carrie, "but they don't allow visitors."
"I imagine I could get in," said Hurstwood significantly.
She was completely restored and delighted by his consideration, but she made him promise not to come around.
"Now you must do your best to please me," he said encouragingly. "Just remember that I want you to succeed. We will make the performance worth while. You do that now."
"I'll try," said Carrie, brimming with affection and enthusiasm.
"That's the girl," said Hurstwood fondly. "Now, remember," shaking an affectionate finger at her, "your best."
"I will," she answered, looking back.
The whole earth was brimming sunshine that morning. She tripped along, the clear sky pouring liquid blue into her soul. Oh, blessed are the children of endeavour in this, that they try and are hopeful. And blessed also are they who, knowing, smile and approve.
对嘉莉来说至关重要的这场戏要在阿佛莱礼堂上演。某些情况使得这场演出比原来预料的要引人注目。那个戏剧界的小学生收到台词的第二天早晨就写信告诉赫斯渥，她将在一个戏里演一个角色。
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赫斯渥看到嘉莉显露的才华不禁着了迷。在生活中再没有比看到正当的雄心更让人振奋的事了，不管这种雄心多么幼稚。这雄心赋予人以色彩，力量和美感。
神圣的灵感使嘉莉变得神采奕奕。她还没做什么事，她的两个情人已经对她大加夸赞了。他们既然爱她，她所做的事在他们眼里当然就变得很了不起，值得大肆赞扬了。她则由于年轻无知充满着幻想。这些幻想一遇机会就会泛滥起来，于是一个小小的机会就好像成了金色的魔杖，可以用来发掘生活的宝藏。
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隔了一两天，杜洛埃顺路来到亚当街上这家酒楼。他刚到，赫斯渥就看到了。当时是下午５点，酒馆里挤满了商人、演员、经理、政客。满厅是脸色红润大腹便便的人群，都戴着丝礼帽，穿着浆过的衬衫，手上戴着戒指，领带上别着饰针，真是尽善尽美，无可挑剔。那个著名的拳击家约翰路沙立文正站在酒柜的一端，周围站着许多服装鲜艳的运动员，他们正在热烈交谈。杜洛埃迈着大步，满面春风地穿过大厅，脚上那双黄褐色的新皮鞋走起路来发出喀嚓喀嚓的响声。
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在此期间，嘉莉参加了第一次排演。排演由昆塞尔先生主持，一个年轻人米勒斯先生给他当助手。米勒斯过去在演艺圈干过，有一点资历了，不过究竟有些什么资历旁人就不清楚了。可是，他因为自己有点经验，又摆出一副公事公办的面孔，所以他的态度几近粗暴--事实上，他忘记了自己指导的只是一群业余演员，并不是领工资的下属。
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嘉莉并不喜欢他的这个提示。但是这种场面太新奇，又有那么多陌生人在场，每人多少有点紧张，再加上她竭力想避免演砸，这一切使她胆怯起来，不敢提出反对意见。她照着导演的要求走动着，心里却感到这么走缺少了点什么东西，令人不自在。
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鈥湶淮恚钦饩浯剩�澋佳菟担�湹墙疟旧匣顾的阋龀龃蟪砸痪难印Ｄ阍倮匆槐椋茨懿荒茏龀稣鹁哪Ｑｂ�濃�溎阋馐颓宄♀�澃啾锤裣壬辛Φ孛钏怠�
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鈥溣幸惶焱砩希�澖酉吕词悄奶ù剩谑撬徒恿松侠矗�湴致枞タ锤杈纭Ｋ窃诎倮匣愎砺肥保蝗郝砺飞铣＜钠蚨蛩瞧蛱�--鈥濃�湹纫坏龋�澋佳萆熳乓桓龈觳渤迳侠此担�溎愀詹拍畹奶ù世铮星榛挂苛倚ｂ�澞纳衿孟袷呛ε滤岫执蛩难劾锪髀冻鲰Ｅ纳裆�
鈥溂亲。�澦绦担挥欣砘崴张难酃猓还确藕推艘恍�溎阆衷谡驳氖且桓銎嗖业墓适隆Ｄ闼档氖羌媚闵诵牡氖隆Ｕ庑枰⑷敫星椋恢盅挂值纳诵摹Ｒ饷此担�樎砺飞铣＜钠蚨蛩瞧蛱帧�'鈥濃�満冒桑�溎怠�
鈥満茫绦畔氯ァｂ��
鈥溎盖自诳诖锾土闱保氖峙龅揭桓霰洳兜氖郑庵皇终プ×怂那ｂ�濃�満芎茫�澋佳荽蚨狭怂馕渡畛さ氐阕磐贰�
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鈥樴蓿歉鲂⊥担�'你要这么说。对，就是这样。鈥濃�溦庋貌缓茫�澕卫蛞馐兜骄缤诺母鞲鲅菰绷ù驶共灰欢亲×耍鹚底⒁獾较肝⒌谋砬榱耍颓由靥嵋樗担�溛颐窍壤赐ㄒ槐樘ù剩纯疵扛鋈耸欠窦鞘炝恕Ｒ残硗ㄌù实墓讨谢嵊兴舴ⅰｂ�濃�溦庵饕獠淮恚蟮谴镄〗悖�澙ト壬担谖杼ㄒ槐撸蚕甑乜醋排叛荩惺币蔡嵝┮饧堑佳莶挥枥聿恰�
鈥満冒桑�澋佳萦械憔狡鹊厮担�溦庋埠谩ｂ�澆还砩嫌稚衿鹄矗萌ㄍ目谄担衡�溝衷谖颐蔷屯ㄒ槐椤Ｄ畹氖焙颍×堪迅星榉沤ァｂ�濃�満茫�澙ト壬怠�
鈥溦庵皇郑�澞绦钕氯ィ房戳搜郯啾锤裣壬值屯房戳搜劢疟荆�溛夷盖滓话炎プ×恕Ｋサ媚敲唇簦桓鱿赶傅纳舴⒊鲆簧纯嗟募饨小Ｂ璧拖峦罚醇砼允歉鲆律榔评玫男∨ⅰｂ�濃�満芎茫�澫衷诿皇驴筛傻牡佳萜兰鬯怠�
鈥準歉鲈簦♀�澃啾锤裣壬辛似鹄础�
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鈥湶淮恚歉鲈簦钦飧鲈艏负趸共坏剑端辏ぷ乓徽盘焓拱愕牧场�'住手，'妈说，'你想干什么？鈥欌�濃��'想偷钱，'那个孩子说。鈥濃��'你难道不知道这么做不对吗？'我爸问。鈥濃��'不知道，'那孩子说，'但是挨饿是很难受的。'鈥濃��'谁叫你偷的？'我妈问。鈥濃��'是她--在那里，'孩子说，手指着路对面门洞里一个邋遢的女人。那女人猛地顺马路逃了。'那就是老犹大，'小女孩说。鈥澞琳庖淮蠖问保锲降佳菁蛑本恕Ｋ⒉话驳刈醋ィ缓蟪ト壬呷ァ�
鈥溎憔醯盟窃趺囱库�澦省�
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鈥溛铱擅挥邪盐眨�澋佳菟怠ｂ�溛铱窗啾锤裾饧一镅萸槿耸翟谔懔恕ｂ�濃�溛颐钦也坏奖鹑肆耍�澙ト壬叛劬λ担�"哈列生临时变卦不演了，我们还能找谁呢？鈥濃�溛也恢溃�澋佳菟怠ｂ�溛铱峙滤涝堆Р换帷ｂ�澗驮谡馐卑啾锤裣壬辛似鹄矗� 鈥溦渲椋阍诤臀铱嫘Αｂ�濃�溎闱魄疲�澋佳萦靡恢皇治孀抛焖担�溕系郯。裾庋桓鏊祷巴锨坏娜耍隳苣盟趺窗炷兀库�濃�溇∧闼馨桑�澙ト参康厮怠�
排演就这样继续下去，直到嘉莉扮演的罗拉走进房间向雷埃解释。听了珍珠的说明以后，他已经写了一封绝交信，不过信还没有寄出。班贝格正在结束雷埃的台词：鈥溛冶匦朐谒乩粗袄肟０。慕挪缴√倭耍♀�澦呕耪耪诺匕研磐诖锶氯岬厮祷傲耍衡�溊装＃♀�濃�溈�--柯脱兰小姐，鈥澃啾锤窠峤岚桶偷厍嵘怠�
嘉莉看了他一会儿，忘记了周围的这些人。她开始把握自己扮演的角色的心理，嘴上露出一丝淡漠的微笑，按照台词的指示转过身来，朝窗子走去，就好像他不在场似的。她这么做的时候，姿态是那么优美，让人看了着迷。
鈥溎歉雠耸撬。库�澋佳菀槐呖醋偶卫蚝桶啾锤竦哪浅∠罚槐呶省�
鈥溌蟮谴镄〗悖�澙ト怠�
鈥溛抑浪拿郑�澋佳菟担�湹撬歉墒裁吹哪兀库�濃�溛也恢溃�澙ト怠ｂ�溗俏颐且桓龌嵩钡呐笥选ｂ�濃�溹牛铱此谡庑┤酥凶钣兄鞫�--看起来对正在演的戏很感兴趣。鈥濃�湺液苊烂玻圆欢裕库�澙ト怠�
接下来在面对舞厅里所有人的那场戏里，她演得更精采了，导演不禁露出了微笑。他被她的魅力吸引住了，就主动走过来和她说话。
鈥溎阋郧把莨仿穑库�澦畛械匚省�
鈥溍挥校�澕卫蛩怠�
鈥溎阊莸谜饷春茫一挂晕阋郧吧瞎亍ｂ�澕卫蛑皇遣缓靡馑嫉匚⑿ψ拧�
他走开去听班贝格先生念台词。他正有气无力地念着一段热情激昂的台词。
莫根太太在旁边都看在眼里。她用发亮的黑眼睛妒忌地瞅着嘉莉。
鈥溗还且桓鱿录南纷佣选ｂ�澦饷匆幌胄睦锏昧诵┌参浚谑撬桶阉毕纷永幢墒雍驮骱蕖�
当天的排演结束了。嘉莉回家时感到自己这一天的表现不错。导演的话还在她耳边回响，她渴望有个机会能告诉赫斯渥，让他知道她演得有多出色。杜洛埃也是她吐露肺腑的对象。在他问她之前，她就迫不及待地想告诉他。不过她的虚荣心还没强到自己主动提这事儿。可是这个推销员今晚心里在想别的事，她的小小经历在他看来无足轻重。因此除了她主动说的一些事以外，他并没有继续这个话题，而她又不善于自吹自夸。他想当然地认为她既然干得不错，他就无须再为此操心了。嘉莉的心里话得不到倾吐，感到受了压抑，心里很不痛快。
她深切感到他对她不关心，因此渴望见到赫斯渥。他现在似乎是她在这世上的唯一的朋友了。第二天早上杜洛埃对她排演的事又感兴趣起来，可是已经为时太晚，他的损失无法挽回了。
她从经理那里收到一封措辞动人的信，信里说她收到信的时候，他已经在公园里等她了。等她到了公园，他用朝阳般灿烂的微笑迎接她。鈥満伲Ρ矗�澦担�溎闩叛莸迷趺囱库�濃�溁共淮怼ｂ�澦祷笆被乖谖怕灏５奶刃那椴患选�
鈥湴涯闩叛莸氖露几嫠呶野伞Ｅ叛莸糜淇炻穑库�澕卫虬雅畔分蟹⑸氖乱晃逡皇馗嫠咚底潘底徘樾鞲哒瞧鹄础�
鈥溙袅耍�澓账逛姿担�溛艺嫖愀咝恕Ｎ乙欢ㄒ侥抢锶タ茨闩叛荨Ｏ乱淮问裁词焙蚺畔罚库�濃�溞瞧诙�澕卫蛩担�湶还遣蛔寂怨鄣摹ｂ��
鈥溛蚁胛铱梢韵敕ㄗ咏サ模�澓账逛缀猩钜獾厮怠�
他这么关心她，使她心情完全好转了，她又感到喜气洋洋了。不过她要他答应不去看排演。
鈥溎悄阋欢ㄒ莺茫梦腋咝烁咝耍�澦睦厮担�溂亲。乙吹侥愠晒ΑＮ颐且拐獬⊙莩鱿窀鲅樱阋欢ㄒ晒Αｂ�濃�溛一崤Φ模�澕卫蛩担肷硌笠缱虐腿惹椤�
鈥溦媸歉龊霉媚铮�澓账逛滋郯厮怠ｂ�溎悄憔图亲×耍�"他伸出一个手指情意款款地朝她摇了摇，鈥溇∧阕畲蟮呐Αｂ�濃�溛一岬模�澦赝匪档馈�
这天早上整个世界充满了阳光。她轻快地走着，湛蓝的天空好像在她心里灌注了蓝色的液体。啊，那些发奋努力的孩子们是有福的，因为他们在满怀希望地奋斗。那些了解他们，对他们的努力给予微笑和赞许的人同样是有福的。
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