了！”

The grandmother had been blackleading the stove, it was Saturday morning. She came to the door in her sacking apron, a blacklead-brush in her hand, and a black smudge on her nose. She was a little, rather dry woman.

那是周六的早晨，女孩的祖母正用黑铅粉漆着炉灶。她系着粗布围裙，走到门口来，手拿沾满铅粉的毛刷，鼻头上有块黑渍。她五短身材，形容颇为枯槁。

"Why, whatever?" she said, hastily wiping her arm across her face as she saw Connie standing outside.

“哎呀，啥事情？”她说，看到康妮站在屋外，忙不迭地抬起手臂去抹脸。

"Good morning!" said Connie. "She was crying, so I just brought her home." The grandmother looked around swiftly at the child: "Why, wheer was yer Dad?" The little girl clung to her grandmother's skirts and simpered.

“早安！”康妮说。“她哭个不停，我就把她送回家来了。”孩子祖母麻利地转过来望向自己的孙女。“我说，你爹上哪去了？”小姑娘扯着奶奶的裙摆，哧哧笑着。

"He was there," said Connie, "but he'd shot a poaching cat, and the child was upset.” "Oh, you'd no right t'ave bothered, Lady Chatterley, I'm sure! I'm sure it was very good of you, but you shouldn't 'ave bothered. Why, did ever you see! and the old w