A Spring Coat for Sarah一件春天衣裳.docVIP

A Spring Coat for Sarah一件春天衣裳One winter-thawing1） morning in March， Sarah put on her old spring coat to go out and play. “These buttons don’t work，” Sarah said to Mama. “Why， Sarah， you’ve sprouted2） up like a primrose3） in spring！” Mama said. “After your sisters leave for school， we’ll check the hand-me-downs for a coat that fits.” When the house was quiet， Mama went to the hall closet and pulled out all the old spring coats. But ... Sylvia’s were too big， Susan’s too stained， and Sally’s too tattered4）. The coats were fine for play. But ... “Sarah has no coat for church and town and special occasions，” Mama told Papa when he came in from the barn. Papa sat down at the table. “The cows can’t be milked till after the calves5） are born，” he said. “Are you sure Sarah can’t wear a hand-me-down？” “It’s either a new coat or a ragged coat，” Mama said. Papa frowned. He stared out at the empty calf pasture. Mama said， “Sarah has never had a new coat.” For a long while nobody spoke. The fire in the wood stove crackled. The soup in the kettle sputtered6）. At last Mama said， “Papa， how much can one small coat for our Sarah cost？” Sarah looked closely at Papa. Then Papa cleared his throat. “A ragged coat won’t do，” he said. “Sarah， are you old enough to take care of a new coat？” “Yes， Papa，” Sarah said. “I’m old enough to do almost anything.” Papa gave her a serious look. “Very well，” he said. “While we are in town today， we’ll buy you a coat of your very own.” Later， after they had eaten the soup， Papa backed the old automobile out of the garage， and Mama and Sarah climbed in. Sarah sat in the back so she would feel older. Papa drove past farms with muddy-brown barnyards， sheets flapping on clotheslines， sap7） buckets on every maple tree. When they got to town， Papa parked their car. He put a penny in the meter， and they all went inside the store. Inside was gloomy； racks of coats seemed to rustle and whisper like the ba