The Silent Auction Quilt

By seven o'clock, the quilt has been outbid fourteen times, and every raise is exactly one dollar. Caspian, who is running the auction for the community hall's roof fund, stands behind the coffee urn and studies the bid sheet. Fifty-two dollars. Fifty-three. Fifty-four.

到了七点钟，这床被子已经被加价十四次了，而且每次都恰好加一美元。卡斯皮安负责为社区礼堂的屋顶修缮基金主持这场拍卖，他站在咖啡壶后面，研究着竞价单。五十二美元。五十三。五十四。

The quilt is the star of the evening. It has a hundred small squares, each cut from a different shirt, stitched in a spiral that makes the eye go round and round. Three people have been hovering around it all night. None of them seems to be the kind of person who bids a dollar at a time.

这床被子是今晚的明星。它由一百块小方块拼成，每一块都剪自不同的衬衫，以螺旋形缝合，让人的目光一圈又一圈地转。整个晚上有三个人一直在它周围徘徊。他们看上去都不像是会一美元一美元加价的人。

"Somebody is playing games," says the woman who sells the raffle tickets. "If I wanted to win something, I would put down a big number and go home."

“有人在玩花样，”卖抽奖券的女士说，“要是我想赢点什么，我会直接写个大数字，然后回家。”

Caspian agrees. A big number would end the matter. Instead, someone keeps appearing the moment the sheet is raised, writes a single digit higher, and vanishes again. The handwriting is small and careful, and it is always in pencil. The bidder number is 112.

卡斯皮安同意。一个大数字就能了结此事。可是，每当竞价单被抬高，就会有人立刻出现，把数字多写上一点，然后又消失。笔迹小而工整，而且始终是铅笔写的。竞拍号码是112。

He checks the registration list. Number 112 belongs to a man called Jarek, and beside his name someone has written: guest of the quilter. Caspian reads it twice and laughs out loud. A donor's husband bidding on a donor's quilt breaks no rule in particular, but it is certainly not what the rules had in mind.

他查看登记名单。112号属于一个叫亚雷克的男人，名字旁边有人写了一句：缝被人的客人。卡斯皮安读了两遍，不禁笑出声来。捐赠者的丈夫竞拍捐赠者的被子，并不违反哪一条具体的规定，但肯定也不是规定本来想要的样子。

He finds Jarek by the cake table, a tall man in a brown cardigan, holding a paper plate with a single biscuit on it. He hasn't eaten it. His eyes keep drifting toward the bid table.

他在蛋糕桌旁找到了亚雷克，一个穿棕色开襟毛衣的高个子男人，手里的纸盘上放着一块饼干。他没有吃。他的目光总是飘向竞拍桌。

"Number 112," Caspian says quietly. "You've been busy."

“112号，”卡斯皮安轻声说，“您可真忙啊。”

Jarek goes pink to the ears. He explains that his wife, Josefine, has been working on the quilt every evening since January, in the chair by the window. He has been listening to her sewing machine the whole time. "I thought it would go for thirty dollars to someone who would put it on a sofa for the dog," he says. "Then people started bidding, and I couldn't stand any of them."

亚雷克的脸红到了耳根。他解释说，他的妻子约瑟芬从一月起每天晚上都在窗边的椅子上缝这床被子。这段时间里，他一直听着她缝纫机的声音。“我以为它最多卖三十美元，被某个人拿去铺在沙发上给狗睡，”他说，“后来大家开始竞价，我一个也看不顺眼。”

"So you outbid them by one dollar."

“所以您就比他们多出一美元。”

"One dollar felt polite," Jarek says. "Also, I didn't know how much I was allowed to spend."

“一美元显得有礼貌，”亚雷克说，“而且，我不知道自己可以花多少钱。”

Caspian considers the situation. If he disqualified Jarek, the roof fund would lose the quickest-rising bids of the night. Despite the rules, the sensible answer is obvious. "You can keep bidding," he says, "but in real numbers, please. At one dollar a time we would still be here at midnight."

卡斯皮安权衡着眼前的局面。如果取消亚雷克的资格，屋顶基金就会失去今晚涨得最快的几次出价。尽管有规矩，明智的答案显而易见。“您可以继续竞价，”他说，“不过请出真正的数字。一次加一美元，我们到半夜还得待在这儿。”

Jarek stares at him, then nods and walks to the bid table. When he comes back, the sheet says two hundred. Meanwhile, a stranger in a blue scarf has written two hundred and ten, and the evening has become much more interesting.

亚雷克瞪着他，然后点点头，走向竞拍桌。他回来时，竞价单上写着两百。与此同时，一位围蓝围巾的陌生人写下了两百一十，这个夜晚变得有意思多了。

At eight o'clock, Caspian rings the little brass bell and reads out the result. The quilt goes to number 112, for four hundred and eighty dollars, the highest sum of the night.

八点整，卡斯皮安敲响小小的黄铜铃，宣布结果。被子归112号，成交价四百八十美元，是今晚的最高价。

Josefine is standing behind her husband when it is announced. She must have been there for some time. "You could have just asked me," she says. "I would have made you one for free."

宣布的时候，约瑟芬正站在她丈夫身后。她一定已经在那里站了一阵子了。“你直接问我就好了呀，”她说，“我可以免费给你做一床。”

Jarek folds the receipt into his cardigan pocket. "Not this one," he says.

亚雷克把收据折好，放进开襟毛衣的口袋里。“这一床不行，”他说。