It was the old lady's eightieth birthday. She was sure Myra wouldn't forget her mother's birthday, even if she was busy. After all, eighty was a special birthday. Perhaps Myra might come. Even if Myra did not come, she would send a present. The old lady was sure of that. She was excited like a child.
Mrs. Morrison had brought a card and some flowers when she came to do the breakfast. Mrs. Grant downstairs had made a cake. Johnnie, the little boy next door, was now up with her with a bag of sweets.
"I guess you'll get lots and lots of presents," he said. "I did last week when I was six."
What would she like? A pair of slippers, perhaps. A blue new sweater. Or a little clock, with clear black numbers. So many lovely things.
She sat in her wheelchair by the window, watching. The postman turned round the corner on his bicycle. Her heart beat fast. Johnnie had seen him too and ran to the gate.
"Granny, granny," Johnnie returned. "I've got your post!"
He gave her four envelopes (信封). Three were from old friends. The fourth was in Myra's writing.
"No parcel (包裹), Johnnie?"
"No, granny."
Disappointedly, she opened the fourth envelope. Folded in the card was a check. Written on the card was a message: Happy Birthday—Buy yourself something nice with the check, Myra and Harold.
The check for $1,000 fell to the floor like a bird with a broken wing. Slowly the old lady picked it up, thinking of the lovely present she wanted. With shaking fingers she tore (撕) the check into small pieces.
