Uncle Silas had lighted his pipe for a comfortable smoke，when Aunt Rebecca looked up from her knitting¹ and said：“Silas，do you know that Sunday next will be the thirtieth anniversary² of our wedding？”

“I swan，”said Silas，“is that so，and what about it？”

“Oh，nothing，”said Aunt Rebecca，“only thought may be we ought to kill them two Rhode Island Red chickens．”

“But，Rebecca，”said Uncle Silas，“how can you blame them two Rhode Island Red chickens for what happened thirty years ago？”

赛拉斯大叔点燃了烟斗想好好吸一口，丽贝卡大妈织着毛衣抬眼说：“赛拉斯，你知不知道下星期日是我们结婚三十周年？”

“老天哪，”赛拉斯说，“是吗？那又怎么样？”

“噢，没什么，”丽贝卡大妈应道，“我只是想，也许我们该把那两只罗得岛红鸡宰了。”

“可是，丽贝卡，”赛拉斯大叔说，“你怎么能够把三十年前发生的事怪到那两只罗得岛红鸡的头上呢？”