题目内容
It ______ to be seen who will be the victor in the contest.
| A．stayed | B．remained | C．kept | D．left |
B
解析
When I was fourteen, I earned money in the summer by cutting lawns（草坪）, and within a few weeks I had built up a body of customers. I got to know people by the flowers they planted that I had to remember not to cut down, by the things they lost in the grass or struck in the ground on purpose. I reached the point with most of them when I knew in advance what complaint was about to be spoken, which particular request was most important. And I learned something about the measure of my neighbors by their preferred method of payment: by the job, by the month--- or not at all.
Mr. Ballou fell into the last category, and he always had a reason why. On one day, he had no change for a fifty, on another he was flat out of checks, on another, he was simply out when I knocked on his door. Still, except for the money apart, he was a nice enough guy, always waving or tipping his hat when he’d see me from a distance. I figured him for a thin retirement check, maybe a work-relayed injury that kept him from doing his own yard work. Sure, I kept track of the total, but I didn’t worry about the amount too much. Grass was grass, and the little that Mr. Ballou’s property comprised didn’t take long to trim (修剪).
Then, one late afternoon in mid-July, the hottest time of the year, I was walking by his house and he opened the door, mentioned me to come inside. The hall was cool, shaded, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light.
“ I owe you,” Mr Ballou, “ but…”
I thought I’d save him the trouble of thinking of a new excuse. “ No problem. Don’t worry about it.”
“ The bank made a mistake in my account,” he continued, ignoring my words. “ It will be cleared up in a day or two . But in the meantime I thought perhaps you could choose one or two volumes for a down payment.
He gestured toward the walls and I saw that books were stacked (堆放) everywhere. It was like a library, except with no order to the arrangement.
“ Take your time,” Mr. Ballou encouraged. “Read, borrow, keep. Find something you like. What do you read?”
“ I don’t know.” And I didn’t. I generally read what was in front of me, what I could get from the paperback stack at the drugstore, what I found at the library, magazines, the back of cereal boxes, comics. The idea of consciously seeking out a special title was new to me, but, I realized, not without appeal--- so I started to look through the piles of books.
“ You actually read all of these?”
“ This isn’t much,” Mr. Ballou said. “ This is nothing, just what I’ve kept, the ones worth looking at a second time.”
“ Pick for me, then.”
He raised his eyebrows, cocked his head, and regarded me as though measuring me for a suit. After a moment, he nodded, searched through a stack, and handed me a dark red hardbound book, fairly thick.
“ The Last of the Just,” I read. “ By Andre Schwarz-Bart. What’s it about?” “ You tell me,” he said. “ Next week.”
I started after supper, sitting outdoors on an uncomfortable kitchen chair. Within a few pages, the yard, the summer, disappeared, and I was plunged into the aching tragedy of the Holocaust, the extraordinary clash of good, represented by one decent man, and evil. Translated from French, the language was elegant, simple, impossible to resist. When the evening light finally failed I moved inside, read all through the night,
To this day, thirty years later, I vividly remember the experience. It was my first voluntary encounter with world literature, and I was stunned (震惊) by the concentrated power a novel could contain. I lacked the vocabulary, however, to translate my feelings into words, so the next week. When Mr. Ballou asked, “ Well?” I only replied, “ It was good?”
“ Keep it, then,” he said. “ Shall I suggest another?”
I nodded, and was presented with the paperback edition of Margaret Mead’s Coming of Age in Samoa ( a very important book on the study of the social and cultural development of peoples--- anthropology (人类学) ).
To make two long stories short, Mr. Ballou never paid me a cent for cutting his grass that year or the next, but for fifteen years I taught anthropology at Dartmouth College. Summer reading was not the innocent entertainment I had assumed it to be, not a light-hearted, instantly forgettable escape in a hammock (吊床) ( though I have since enjoyed many of those, too). A book, if it arrives before you at the right moment, in the proper season, at an internal in the daily business of things, will change the course of all that follows.
【小题1】.The author thought that Mr. Ballou was ______________.
| A．rich but mean | B．poor but polite |
| C．honest but forgettable | D．strong but lazy |
| A．anything and everything | B．only what was given to him |
| C．only serious novels | D．nothing in the summer |
| A．light-heated and enjoyable | B．dull but well written |
| C．impossible to put down | D．difficult to understand |
| A．read all books twice | B．did not do much reading |
| C．read more books than he kept | D．preferred to read hardbound books |
| A．started studying anthropology at college | B．continued to cut Mr. Ballou’s lawn |
| C．spent most of his time lazing away in a hammock | |
| D．had forgotten what he had read the summer before |
| A．summer jobs are really good for young people |
| B．you should insist on being paid before you do a job |
| C．a good book can change the direction of your life |
| D．a book is like a garden carried in the pocket. |
He came into the room to shut the windows while we were still in bed and I saw he looked ill. He was shivering, his face was white, and he walked slowly as though it ached to move.
"What's the matter, Schatz?"
"I've got a headache."
"You better go back to bed."
"No. I'm all right."
"You go to bed. I'll see you when I'm dressed."
But when I came downstairs he was dressed, sitting by the fire, looking a very sick and miserable boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead I knew he had a fever.
"You go up to bed," I said, "You're sick."
"I'm all right," he said.
When the doctor came he took the boy's temperature.
"What's is it?" I asked him.
"One hundred and two."
Downstairs, the doctor left three different medicines in different colored capsules（胶囊） with instructions for giving them. One was to bring down the fever, another a purgative(泻药), the third to overcome an acid condition. The germs of influenza（流感）can only exist in an acid condition, he explained. He seemed to know all about influenza and said there was nothing to worry about if the fever did not go above one hundred and four degrees. This was a light epidemic(传染病；传染性的) of flu and there was no danger if you avoided pneumonia（肺炎）.
Back in the room I wrote the boy's temperature down and made a note of the time to give the various capsules.
"Do you want me to read to you?"
"All right. If you want to, " said the boy. His face was very white and there were dark areas under his eyes. He lay still in the bed and seemed very detached（超然的；冷漠的）from what was going on.
I read aloud from Howard Pyle's Book of Pirates（海盗）;but I could see he was not following what I was reading.
"How do you feel, Schatz?" I asked him.
"Just the same, so far," he said.
I sat at the foot of the bed and read to myself while I waited for it to be time to give another capsule. It would have been natural for him to go to sleep, but when I looked up he was looking at the foot of the bed, looking very strangely.
"Why don't you try to sleep? I'll wake you up for the medicine."
"I'd rather stay awake."
After a while he said to me, "You don't have to stay in here with me, Papa, if it bothers you."
"It doesn't bother me."
"No, I mean you don't have to stay if it's going to bother you."
I thought perhaps he was a little lightheaded and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock I went out with my gun and the young hunting dog….I killed two quail(鹌鹑), and missed five, and started back pleased to have found a covey of quail close to the house and happy there were so many left to find on another day.
At the house they said the boy had refused to let anyone come into the room.
"You can't come in," he said. "You mustn't get what I have."
I went up to him and found him in exactly the position I had left him, white-faced, but with the tops of his cheeks flushed（发红）by the fever, staring still, as he had stared, at the foot of the bed.
I took his temperature.
"What is it?"
"Something like a hundred," I said. It was one hundred and two and four tenths.
"It was a hundred and two," he said.
"Who said so?"
"The doctor."
"Your temperature is all right," I said. "It's nothing to worry about."
"I don't worry," he said, "but I can't keep from thinking."
"Don't think," I said. "Just take it easy."
"I'm taking it easy," he said and looked straight ahead, He was evidently holding tight onto himself about something.
"Take this with water."
"Do you think it will do any good?"
"Of course it will."
I sat down and opened the Pirate book and began to read, but I could see he was not following, so I stopped.
"About what time do you think I'm going to die?" he asked.
"What?"
"About how long will it be before I die?"
"You aren't going to die. What's the matter with you? "
"Oh, yes, I am, I heard him say a hundred and two."
"People don't die with a fever of one hundred and two. That's a silly way to talk."
"I know they do. At school in France the boys told me you can't live with forty-four degrees. I've got a hundred and two."
He had been waiting to die all day, ever since nine o'clock in the morning.
"You poor Schatz," I said. "Poor old Schatz. It's like miles and kilometers. You aren't going to die. That's different thermometer（温度计）. On that thermometer thirty-seven is normal. On this kind it's ninety-eight."
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely," I said, "It's like miles and kilometers. You know, like how many kilometers we make when we do seventy miles in the car?"
"Oh," he said.
But his gaze at the foot of the bed relaxed slowly. The hold over himself relaxed too, finally, and the next day it was very slack(松驰的) and he cried very easily at little things that were of no importance.
1.The author writes about the doctor’s visit in order to _____.
A. show the doctor’s knowledge about influenza and its treatment
B. show the boy’s illness was quite serious
C. create a situation of misunderstanding around which to build a story
D. show the father was very much concerned about the boy’s illness
2.The pronoun “it” in “Papa, if it bothers you” (line 41) refers to _____.
A. the boy’s high temperature
B. the father giving the medicine to the boy
C. the father staying with the boy
D. the boy’s death
3.It can be inferred from the story that it is _____ by the time the father gets home from hunting.
A. early in the afternoon B. close to evening
C. at noon D. late in the morning
4.From the story we know that the boy kept tight control over himself because _____.
A. he did not want to be a bother to others
B. he wanted to recover quickly so that he could go hunting with his father
C. he was afraid that he would die if he lost control over himself
D. he thought he was going to die and he must show courage in the face of death
5.That the boy cried very easily at little things of no importance the next day suggests that _____.
A. he couldn’t control his emotions when he finally relaxed
B. his father would go out hunting without him if he didn’t cry
C. something went wrong with his brain after the fever
D. he often complained about unimportant things as a spoiled boy
6.The theme of the story is _____.
A. death is something beyond a child’s comprehension
B. to be calm and controlled in the face of death is a mark of courage
C. misunderstanding can occur even between father and son
D. misunderstanding can sometimes lead to an unexpected effect