每个月的最后一天,总是会看见一位白发苍苍、拄着拐杖蹒跚去来的老人。他每次都颤微微地从口袋里搜出拾块钱存到他的折子上。不管是刮风还是下雨,他都这么坚决地走来,存他那拾块钱。他的折子上的钱一月一月的多了起来,然而,却从不见他来取过一分钱。 这天,又是一月的最后一天了,我又习惯地把头抬起来年头门外熙熙攘攘的人群,只是没有那老人熟悉的身影。我正琢磨那老头是怎么了的时候,一个老婆婆急急地走了进来,递进了一本折子说要取钱,我拿过一看,原来是那老人的。我突然想:他终于还是来取钱了。正 On the last day of each month, you will always see an old man with gray hair and hobble around his cane. Every time he trembled a tiny amount of money out of his pocket and deposited it on his surrender. Whether windy or rainy, he came so firmly, save him pick up the money. The money on his moneybag has gone up in January and January, but never saw him take a penny. This day is the last day of January, and I am accustomed to raising my head to the bustling crowds outside the old door, but without the familiar figure of the old man. When I was wondering what happened to the old man, an old lady came in hurriedly and handed in a pecuniary paper to take the money. I took a look and it turned out to be the old man. I suddenly thought: he finally come to withdraw money. positive