On Saturday, a note appeared under our door. It was written in careful blue ink: 'Please walk softly after nine. My wife is ill and sleeps early. - Mr. Ito, downstairs.'
星期六，一张字条出现在我们的门底下。上面是工整的蓝墨水字：“九点以后请轻声走路。我妻子病了，睡得早。——楼下的伊藤先生”
My little sister read it aloud and looked at her feet. That evening we tried to be quiet, but the floor still creaked. I decided to write back, though I had never met Mr. Ito.
妹妹把它大声念出来，然后看了看自己的脚。那天晚上我们努力保持安静，可地板还是吱吱响。我决定写一封回信，尽管我从没见过伊藤先生。
I wrote that we were sorry, and that we would put a rug in the hall. I did not know how to end the letter, so I added: 'My sister draws birds. Would you like one?'
我写道，我们很抱歉，会在走廊铺一块地毯。我不知道该怎么结尾，就加了一句：“我妹妹会画小鸟。您想要一张吗？”
Two days later, a reply came. Mr. Ito thanked us for the rug. He said his wife liked birds very much, and asked whether my sister could draw a blue one. I carried the letter upstairs like a small prize.
两天后，回信来了。伊藤先生谢谢我们的地毯。他说他妻子很喜欢鸟，还问妹妹能不能画一只蓝色的。我把信拿上楼，像捧着一件小小的奖品。
On Sunday we knocked downstairs with the drawing. Mr. Ito opened the door. Behind him, his wife sat by the window in a blanket, smiling at us.
星期天，我们拿着那幅画去敲楼下的门。伊藤先生开了门。他身后，他的妻子裹着毯子坐在窗边，朝我们微笑。
We did not stay long. But after that, letters went up and down the stairs almost every week. My sister drew birds; Mr. Ito wrote about the weather and his garden. The floor still creaks sometimes, but now it sounds like someone saying hello.
我们没有待很久。但从那以后，信几乎每个星期都在楼梯上上下下。妹妹画鸟，伊藤先生写天气和他的花园。地板有时还是会响，可现在听起来，像是有人在打招呼。