John Reed was a schoolboy of fourteen years old; four years older than I, for I was but ten: large and stout for his age, with a dingy and unwholesome skin; thick linea-ments in a spacious visage, heavy limbs and large extrem-ities. He gorged himself habitually at table, which made him bilious, and gave him a dim and bleared eye and flab-by cheeks. He ought now to have been at school; but his mama had taken him home for a month or two, “on ac-count of his delicate health.”Mr. Miles, the master, af-firmed that he would do very well if he had fewer cakes and sweetmeats sent him from home; but the mother's heart turned from an opinion so harsh, and inclined rather to the more refined idea that John's sallowness was owing to over-application and, perhaps, to pining after home.
约翰·里德是个十四岁的小学生，比我大四岁，我才十岁。尽管按年纪来说他长得又胖又大，但却肤色灰暗，一副病容。一张宽脸盘，粗眉大眼，腿臂肥壮，大手大脚。他吃起饭来老是狼吞虎咽，结果弄得肝火很旺，目光呆滞无神，两颊松垂。这阵子，他本该呆在学校里，可是他妈妈却把他接回家来住一两个月。说是“由于身体虚弱”。老师迈尔斯先生断言，只要他家里少给他送些糕饼甜食去，他准会过得很好。可是做母亲的心不能接受如此刻薄的意见，而宁愿倾向于一种更为高雅的看法，那就是约翰之所以脸色不好，是因为用功过度，或者是想家。
