The other day Roy Price went "home" to his sister's house. It's here home now, but it's also the house he was born in. Pat, his sister, kissed him and said,“You haven't changed much, Roy. Let me see, now. When did we meet last?"
"Twenty-five years ago," he answered. "I was here for a week, do you remember?" He added, "You haven't changed much, either.” It was polite for Roy to say so, but it wasn't true. Pat seemed almost an old lady.
The next morning, Roy walked through the village alone. The place looked very different. There were lots of traffic signs on the roads and beside the roads, there was a new car park, a new post office, a new bus stop. He remembered suddenly that the bus used to stop anywhere: you just put up your hand and it stopped. One surprise followed another. The railway station was gone! The school was gone. A lot of farm machinery stood in the playground!
But Roy's biggest surprise was the people. He didn't recognize (认出) anybody at all. Perhaps because everyone seemed old. He went into the post office and bought some stamps. "Where are all the children and young people?" he asked the postmaster.
The old fellow looked up from his book of stamps. “Children?” he said, “They're in school, of course. There are three or four young families here. The children go to school by bus—to Horham."
Horham was a town about twenty kilometers away.
At lunch Pat said, "The village looks nice, doesn't it?"
"It's all different, Pat. It used to be an exciting place. But now it's full of old people. I don't understand. . . "
"There are a few newcomers, but the ones we knew are still here. You're also not young, Roy, are you?"
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