Today I was at the mall waiting for friends, when a lady wearing a knit hat and a sweater came up to me and, shivering, said, “I’m homeless. Would you mind buying me some food?”

    In that split second, everything I’d learned since kindergarten flashed through my mind. Don’t talk to strangers … Be a good citizen … People will take ­advantage of you … Treat others as you wish to be treated … The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return … I guess love won the debate. “Sure,” I said. “What would you like?”

    She thought and then said, “I’d like to get Chinese food.” We headed upstairs. On the way she told me about when she was a teenager. She remembers taking pictures for the yearbook with her best friend. She was in the band and played basketball. She got good grades and was a good student.

    She ordered soup, an egg roll, white rice, and pepper chicken. I would normally think that was a lot, but she had probably barely eaten in the last few days. I got my usual – lo mein and General Tso’s chicken.

    As we ate, we got to know each other. She asked if I played any instruments. I replied that I played the violin, cello, and guitar. She told me she played the flute, piano, guitar, and violin. In the middle of our meal, I realized something. And she thought of it at exactly the same time.

    “So, what’s your name?” she asked.

    “I’m Claire,” I said, startled at our exact same thought. “What’s yours?”

    “Joyce,” she said with a smile.

    We continued talking, and she asked my favorite subjects in school and if I wanted to go to college. “Hopefully,” I replied. “I’m interested in nursing.”

    “I went to college for nursing,” she said.

    I was taken aback. How could we have so much in common? Was she pretending so I’d feel sympathy for her? But her eyes were genuine as she said this.

    Meanwhile I was eating my lo mein, picking around the cabbage and the other vegetables. Joyce said, “If you don’t like it you can take it back.” I told her that I liked it, but was not fond of the vegetables. She broke into a big grin. “You don’t like vegetables, huh? Neither did I. But now I do.” I immediately felt guilty. How could I be picking at my food across from someone who barely gets to eat at all?

    I tried my best to finish, but she seemed to sense my guilt and said, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it.” How could she know what I was feeling? I told her the dish was my favorite, but I just eat slowly.

    She replied, “I used to like lo mein, but pepper chicken was my dad’s favorite, so I get that now.” Noticing that she used the word “was,” I assumed her dad had passed away. I found it sweet that she gave up her favorite in order to honor her dad.

    She asked why I was at the mall.

    “I’m waiting for friends. We’re going to see ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,’” I replied, stumbling over the words a bit.

    “‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,’” she echoed in awe. “What’s that about?” I realized that she didn’t see commercials for movies.

    I explained the basic plot and she chuckled. “A man who is born 80 years old and ages backwards! That sounds interesting.”

    She got up to get a to-go box. “Would you like one?” she asked, but I refused. I realized that this food would probably last her for a few days, and I was glad she had ordered a lot.

    “Would you like these?” I asked, gesturing at the food I had left untouched. “Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “This is enough.” I got up to throw my tray away, feeling guilty about wasting so much.

    “I need to meet my friends now,” I explained. “It was so nice to meet you, Joyce.”

    “You too, Claire,” she replied with a smile. “Thank you.”

    I headed to the theater, and she went back downstairs. It sounds like a perfect coincidence, but I can’t help but think that some force compelled us to meet. I kept puzzling, Why is Joyce homeless? It seems so unfair. She shouldn’t need people to buy her dinner. She was a nurse. She got good grades. She took pictures for her yearbook. She was the person I hope to be in the future. What went wrong? How could such a good life be rewarded with horrible luck?

    I feel lucky to have run into Joyce. She changed my outlook. She is still a wonderful person, despite what the world has done to her. I wish her the best, and can only hope that the force that brought us together will help her find what she deserves in life.

1.From the second paragraph we know that the writer _________.

   A. debated with the girl over moral issues

B. hates having to make a quick decision

   C. hesitated before she decided to reach out

D. fell in love with the girl at the first sight

2.The writer felt guilty for a moment because ________.

   A. she was particular about food and also wasted so much

   B. she was a strict vegetarian who ate very little

   C. she didn’t order enough food for the girl

   D. she urged the girl to take her share of food

3.Why did Joyce end up unemployed and homeless?

   A. She was a victim of high education

B. She actually had some kind of mental disorder

   C. She graduated with average grades

D. The reason is not yet given.

4.Which detail doesn’t show the coincidence in the story?

   A. They both took interest in nursing.

   B. They were about to ask names of each other at the same time.

   C. When Claire headed to the theater, Joyce went back downstairs.

   D. They were both musical lovers.

5.The writer was very happy to have met Joyce because______.

   A. she didn’t know what she was going to be until then.

   B. this chance meeting changed her attitudes towards life in a way.

   C. she was glad to be able to pay for someone in need.

   D. hopefully the force that brought them together may bring good luck to Joyce.

6.The passage is intended to _______.

   A. arouse readers’ curiosity

B. explore social problems

   C. teach readers a lesson

D. share a sweet personal story

Today I was at the mall waiting for friends, when a lady wearing a knit hat and a sweater came up to me and, shivering, said, “I’m homeless. Would you mind buying me some food?”
In that split second, everything I’d learned since kindergarten flashed through my mind. Don’t talk to strangers … Be a good citizen … People will take ­advantage of you … Treat others as you wish to be treated … The greatest thing you’ll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return … I guess love won the debate. “Sure,” I said. “What would you like?”
She thought and then said, “I’d like to get Chinese food.” We headed upstairs. On the way she told me about when she was a teenager. She remembers taking pictures for the yearbook with her best friend. She was in the band and played basketball. She got good grades and was a good student.
She ordered soup, an egg roll, white rice, and pepper chicken. I would normally think that was a lot, but she had probably barely eaten in the last few days. I got my usual – lo mein and General Tso’s chicken.
As we ate, we got to know each other. She asked if I played any instruments. I replied that I played the violin, cello, and guitar. She told me she played the flute, piano, guitar, and violin. In the middle of our meal, I realized something. And she thought of it at exactly the same time.
“So, what’s your name?” she asked.
“I’m Claire,” I said, startled at our exact same thought. “What’s yours?”
“Joyce,” she said with a smile.
We continued talking, and she asked my favorite subjects in school and if I wanted to go to college. “Hopefully,” I replied. “I’m interested in nursing.”
“I went to college for nursing,” she said.
I was taken aback. How could we have so much in common? Was she pretending so I’d feel sympathy for her? But her eyes were genuine as she said this.
Meanwhile I was eating my lo mein, picking around the cabbage and the other vegetables. Joyce said, “If you don’t like it you can take it back.” I told her that I liked it, but was not fond of the vegetables. She broke into a big grin. “You don’t like vegetables, huh? Neither did I. But now I do.” I immediately felt guilty. How could I be picking at my food across from someone who barely gets to eat at all?
I tried my best to finish, but she seemed to sense my guilt and said, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it.” How could she know what I was feeling? I told her the dish was my favorite, but I just eat slowly.
She replied, “I used to like lo mein, but pepper chicken was my dad’s favorite, so I get that now.” Noticing that she used the word “was,” I assumed her dad had passed away. I found it sweet that she gave up her favorite in order to honor her dad.
She asked why I was at the mall.
“I’m waiting for friends. We’re going to see ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,’” I replied, stumbling over the words a bit.
“‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button,’” she echoed in awe. “What’s that about?” I realized that she didn’t see commercials for movies.
I explained the basic plot and she chuckled. “A man who is born 80 years old and ages backwards! That sounds interesting.”
She got up to get a to-go box. “Would you like one?” she asked, but I refused. I realized that this food would probably last her for a few days, and I was glad she had ordered a lot.
“Would you like these?” I asked, gesturing at the food I had left untouched. “Oh, no, thank you,” she said. “This is enough.” I got up to throw my tray away, feeling guilty about wasting so much.
“I need to meet my friends now,” I explained. “It was so nice to meet you, Joyce.”
“You too, Claire,” she replied with a smile. “Thank you.”
I headed to the theater, and she went back downstairs. It sounds like a perfect coincidence, but I can’t help but think that some force compelled us to meet. I kept puzzling, Why is Joyce homeless? It seems so unfair. She shouldn’t need people to buy her dinner. She was a nurse. She got good grades. She took pictures for her yearbook. She was the person I hope to be in the future. What went wrong? How could such a good life be rewarded with horrible luck?
I feel lucky to have run into Joyce. She changed my outlook. She is still a wonderful person, despite what the world has done to her. I wish her the best, and can only hope that the force that brought us together will help her find what she deserves in life.

1. 1.

   From the second paragraph we know that the writer _________.

   1. A.
      debated with the girl over moral issues
   2. B.
      hates having to make a quick decision
   3. C.
      hesitated before she decided to reach out
   4. D.
      fell in love with the girl at the first sight
2. 2.

   The writer felt guilty for a moment because ________.

   1. A.
      she was particular about food and also wasted so much
   2. B.
      she was a strict vegetarian who ate very little
   3. C.
      she didn’t order enough food for the girl
   4. D.
      she urged the girl to take her share of food
3. 3.

   Why did Joyce end up unemployed and homeless?

   1. A.
      She was a victim of high education
   2. B.
      She actually had some kind of mental disorder
   3. C.
      She graduated with average grades
   4. D.
      The reason is not yet given.
4. 4.

   Which detail doesn’t show the coincidence in the story?

   1. A.
      They both took interest in nursing.
   2. B.
      They were about to ask names of each other at the same time.
   3. C.
      When Claire headed to the theater, Joyce went back downstairs.
   4. D.
      They were both musical lovers.
5. 5.

   The writer was very happy to have met Joyce because______.

   1. A.
      she didn’t know what she was going to be until then.
   2. B.
      this chance meeting changed her attitudes towards life in a way.
   3. C.
      she was glad to be able to pay for someone in need.
   4. D.
      hopefully the force that brought them together may bring good luck to Joyce.
6. 6.

   The passage is intended to _______.

   1. A.
      arouse readers’ curiosity
   2. B.
      explore social problems
   3. C.
      teach readers a lesson
   4. D.
      share a sweet personal story

I met him first in 1936. I rushed into his ugly little shop to have the heels of my shoes repaired. I waited when he did it. He greeted me with a cheerful smile. “You’re new in this neighborbood, aren’t you?”

    I said I was. I had moved into a house at the end of the street only a week before.

    “This is a fine neighborhood,” he said. “You’ll be happy here.” He looked at the leather covering the heel sadly. It was worn through because I had failed to have the repair done a month before. I grew impatient, for I was rushing to meet a friend. “Please hurry,” I begged.

    He looked at me over his spectacles. “Now, lady, we won’t be long. I want to do a good job. You see, I have a tradition to live up to.”

    A tradition? In this ugly little shop that was no different from so many other shoe repair shops on the side streets of New York?

    He must have felt my surprise, for he smiled as he went on. “Yes, lady, I inherited a tradition. My father and my grandfather were shoemakers in Italy, and they were the best. My father always told me, ‘Son, do the best job on every shoe that comes into the shop, and be proud of your fine work. Do that always, and you’ll have both happiness and money enough to live on.’”

    As he handed me the finished shoes, he said: “These will last a long time. I’ve used good leather.”

    I left in a hurry. But I had a warm and grateful feeling. On my way home I passed the little shop again. There he was, still working. He saw me, and to my surprise he waved and smiled. This was the beginning of our friendship. It was a friendship that came to mean more and more to me as time passed.

    Every day I passed his shop, we waved to each other in friendly greeting. At first I went in only when I had repair work to be done. Then I found myself going in every few days just to talk with him.

    He was the happiest man I’ve ever known. Often, as he stood in his shopwindow, working at a pair of shoes, he sang in a high, clear Italian voice. The Italians in our neighborhood called him la luce alla finestra—“the light in the window”.

    One day I was disappointed and angry because of poor jobs some painters had done for me. I went into his shop for comfort. He let me go on talking angrily about the poor work and carelessness of present-day workmen. “They had no pride in their work,” I said. “They just wanted to collect their money for doing nothing.”

    He agreed. “There’s a lot of that kind around, but maybe we should not blame them. Maybe their fathers had no pride in their work. That’s hard on a boy. It keeps him from learning something important.” He waited a minute and said “Every man or woman who hasn’t inherited a prideful tradition must start building one.”

    “In this country, our freedom lets each of us make his own contribution. We must make it a good contribution. No matter what sort of work a man does, if he gives it his best each day, he’s starting a tradition for his children to live up to. And he is making lots of happiness for himself.”

    I went to Europe for a few months. When I returned, there was no “light in the window”. The door was closed. There was a little sign: “Call for shoes at shop next door.” I learned the old man had suddenly got sick and died two weeks before

    I went away with a heavy heart. I would miss him. But he had left me something—an important piece of wisdom I shall always remember: “If you inherited a prideful tradition, you must carry it on; if you haven’t, start building one now.”                                            

1.The shoemaker looked sadly at the shoes because __________

A. they were of poor quality.

B. he didn’t have the right kind of leather

C. he thought they were too worn to be repaired

D. the author hadn’t taken good care of them.

2.The author was surprised when she heard that the shop had a tradition because the shop ________.

A. looked no different from other shoe repair shops        

B. had a light in the window

C. was at the end of a street

D. was quite an ugly and dirty one

3.What does the underlined word “inherit” mean in paragraph 6 mean?

A. develop                             B. receive                           C. learn                                  D. appreciate

4.The author later frequently went into the little shop __________.

A. to repair her worn shoes

B. only to chat with the shoemaker

C. to look at the new shoes there

D. only to get comfort from the shoemaker

5.Why was the shoemaker called “the light in the window” by his neighbors?

A. Because he always worked late at night.

B. Because he always put a light in the window.

C. Because he was always guiding the others.

D. Because he was always happy and cheerful.

6.What’s the best title of this passage?

A. A Proud Shoemaker                                                     B. A Prideful Tradition

C. The Light in the Window                                             D. Treasure Your Shoes

As a young boy, I sometimes traveled the country roads with my dad. He was a rural mill carrier, and on Saturdays he would ask me to go with him. Driving through the countryside was always an adventure: There were animals to see, people to visit, and chocolate cookies if you knew where to stop, and Dad did.
In the spring, Dad delivered boxes full of baby chickens, and when 1 was a boy it was such a fun to stick your finger 'through one of the holes of the boxes and let the baby birds peck on your fingers.
On Dad' s final day of work, it took him well into the evening to complete his rounds because at least one member from each family was waiting at their mailbox to thank him for his friendship and his years of service. "Two hundred and nineteen mailboxes on my route." he used to say, "and a story at every one. " One lady had no mailbox, so Dad took the mail in to her every day because she was nearly blind. Once inside, he read her mail and helped her pay her bills.
Mailboxes were sometimes used for things other than mail. One note left in a mailbox read. "Nat, take these eggs to Marian; she's baking a cake and doesn't have any eggs. " Mailboxes might be buried in the snow, or broken, or lying on the groom:. bat the mail was always delivered On cold days Dad might find one of his customers waiting for him with a cup of hot chocolate. A young wrote letters but had no stamps, so she left a few button on the envelope in the mailbox; Dad paid for the stamps. One businessman used to leave large amounts of cash in his mailbox for Dad to take to the bank. Once, the amount came to 8 32,000.
A dozen years ago, when I traveled back to my hometown on the sad occasion of Dad’s death,  the mailboxes along the way reminded me of some of his stories. I thought I knew them all, but that wasn't the case.
As I drove home, I noticed two lamp poles, one on each side of the street. When my dad was around, those poles supported wooden boxes about four feet off the ground. One box was painted green and the other was red, and each had a long narrow hole at the top with white lettering: SANTA CLAUS, NORTH POLE. For years children had dropped letters to Santa through those holes.
I made a turn at the comer and drove past the post office and across the railroad tracks to our house. Mom and I were sitting at the kitchen table when I heard footsteps. There, at the door, stood Frank Townsend, Dad's postmaster and great friend for many years. So we all sat down at the table and began to tell stories.
At one point Frank looked at me with tears in his eyes. " What are we going to do about the letters this Christmas?" he asked.
"The letters?"
'I guess you never knew. "
"Knew what?"
" Remember, when you were a kid and you used to put your letters to Santa in those green and red boxes on Main Street? It was your dad who answered all those letters every year. "
I just sat there with tears in my eyes. It wasn’t hard for me to imagine Dad sitting at the old table in our basement reading those letters and answering each one. I have since spoken with several of the people who received Christmas letters during their childhood, and they told me how amazed they were that Santa had known so much about their homes and families.
For me, just knowing that story about my father was the gift of a lifetime.
【小题1】It can be inferred from the passage that the writer regarded his travels with Dad us_____.