"Mr Crossett," said my father, "Will you permit an pupil to shake hands with you?"

“克罗赛特先生”，我父亲说，“请允许您从前的一个学生跟您握握手好吗？”

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The very name of Mr. Crossett seemed to bring up a thousand memories of when I was a boy, of my friends, and of my mother, now dead.

一看到克罗希特先生的名字，许多往事好像一起涌上心头，使我想起了幼时的情景，想起了朋友们，想起了现在已去世的母亲。

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