A little boy invited his mother to attend his school’s first teacher-parent meeting. To the little boy’s   36 , she said she would go. This would be the first time that his classmates and teacher   37  his mother and he felt   38  of her appearance. Although she was a beautiful woman, there was a severe scar that   39  nearly the entire right side of her face. The boy never wanted to   40  why or how she got the scar.
At the meeting, the people were   41  by the kindness and natural beauty of his mother   
  42  the scar, but the little boy was still embarrassed and   43  himself from everyone. He did, however, get within hearing of a conversation between his mother and his teacher.
The teacher asked   44  , “How did you get the scar on your face?”
The mother replied, “   45  my son was a baby, he was in a room that   46  fire. Everyone was   47  afraid to go in because the fire was   48 , so I went in. As I was running toward his bed, I saw a long piece of wood coming down and I placed myself   49  him trying to protect him. I was knocked   50  but fortunately, a fireman came in and saved both of us. ” She   51  the burned side of her face. “This scar will be   52 , but to this day, I have never   53  what I did.”
At this point, the little boy came out running toward his mother with tears in his eyes. He   54  her in his arms and felt a great sense of the sacrifice that his mother had made for him. He held her hand   55  for the rest of the day.

A little boy invited his mother to attend his school’s first teacher-parent meeting. To the little boy’s   36  , she said she would go. This would be the first time that his classmates and teacher   37   his mother and he felt   38   of her appearance. Although she was a beautiful woman, there was a severe scar that   39   nearly the entire right side of her face. The boy never wanted to   40   why or how she got the scar.

At the meeting, the people were   41   by the kindness and natural beauty of his mother   

  42   the scar, but the little boy was still embarrassed and   43   himself from everyone. He did, however, get within hearing of a conversation between his mother and his teacher.

The teacher asked   44   , “How did you get the scar on your face?”

The mother replied, “   45   my son was a baby, he was in a room that   46   fire. Everyone was   47   afraid to go in because the fire was   48  , so I went in. As I was running toward his bed, I saw a long piece of wood coming down and I placed myself   49   him trying to protect him. I was knocked   50   but fortunately, a fireman came in and saved both of us. ” She   51   the burned side of her face. “This scar will be   52  , but to this day, I have never   53   what I did.”

At this point, the little boy came out running toward his mother with tears in his eyes. He   54   her in his arms and felt a great sense of the sacrifice that his mother had made for him. He held her hand   55   for the rest of the day.

1.A. enjoyment     B. disappointment    C. sorrow              D. joy

2.A. noticed       B. greeted           C. accepted                D. met

3.A. sick          B. ashamed            C. afraid              D. tired

4.A. included      B. passed             C. covered            D. shaded

5.A. talk about    B. think about        C. care for                D. hear about

6.A. impressed     B. surprised         C. excited             D. comforted

7.A. in sight of B. by means of          C. by way of               D. in spite of

8.A. hid           B. protected          C. separated               D. escaped

9.A. carefully     B. seriously         C. nervously               D. anxiously

10.A. As           B. When               C. Since                   D. While

11.A. caught       B. set                C. lit                     D. made

12.A. so           B. much               C. quite                   D. too

13.A. out of control B. under control C. in control     D. over control

14.A. under        B. at                 C. to                  D. over

15.A. helpless     B. hopeless           C. senseless              D. useless

16.A. pointed      B. showed             C. wiped               D. touched

17.A. ugly         B. lasting            C. serious             D. frightening

18.A. forgot       B. recognized         C. considered              D. regretted

19.A. grasped      B. held               C. put                 D. caught

20.A. quietly      B. slightly           C. tightly             D. suddenly

When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.

But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.

“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”

“She had an elegant, hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”

GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it. But how happy I was that morning!”

GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”

“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”

A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.

Silent for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”

My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?

Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.

Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?

On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”

GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.

I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.” 

And perhaps she wasn’t saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.

1.GG moved in with her daughter because____.

A．she wanted to live with a large family

B．she was not able to live on her own due to her weakness

C．her husband passed away

D．she thought it was the children’s obligation to take care of her

2.Why did GG become very emotional on a December afternoon?

A．Because she saw her great granddaughter’s doll.

B．Because she recalled her dead parents.

C．Because she was surrounded by her offspring.

D．Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season.

3.What can we infer from Paragraph 5? 

A．GG’s doll was important and was a symbol of many things.

B．GG showed great respect for his husband’s love.

C．GG missed the great old days she spent with her family.

D．GG was grateful for her long life.

4.What happened to GG’s baby sister?

A．She envied her sister all her life.

B．She felt guilty for breaking GG’s doll and decided to go.

C．She left home at a young age.

D．She died of some disease at a young age.

5.Why did Meagan’s mum feel proud of her daughter?

A．Because she was clever.                  B．Because she was loving.

C．Because she was sensitive.                D．Because she was imaginative.

6.The main idea of the passage is that ____.

A．treating the elderly well is moral

B．it is impossible to copy the exact doll for the elderly

C．love, the permanent rhythm of life, will always remain in the elderly’s heart

D．physical comfort from children rather than psychological care is important

When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an exquisite(优美的，高雅的), hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Subdued(沉默的) for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.” 
And perhaps she wasn't saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same

1. 1.

   GG moved in with her daughter because ______

   1. A.
      she wanted to live with a large family
   2. B.
      she was not able to live on her own due to her weakness
   3. C.
      her husband passed away
   4. D.
      she thought it was the children’s obligation to take care of her
2. 2.

   Why did GG become very emotional on a December afternoon?

   1. A.
      Because she saw her great granddaughter’s doll
   2. B.
      Because she recalled her long deceased parents
   3. C.
      Because she was surrounded by her offspring
   4. D.
      Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season
3. 3.

   What can we infer from the underlined sentence in paragraph 4?

   1. A.
      GG’s doll was important and was a symbol of many things
   2. B.
      GG showed great respect for his husband’s love
   3. C.
      GG missed the great old days she spent with her family
   4. D.
      GG was grateful for her long life
4. 4.

   What happened to GG’s baby sister?

   1. A.
      She envied her sister all her life
   2. B.
      She felt guilty for breaking GG’s doll and decided to go
   3. C.
      She left home at a young age
   4. D.
      She died of some disease at a young age
5. 5.

   Why did Meagan’s mum feel proud of her daughter?

   1. A.
      Because she was clever
   2. B.
      Because she was loving
   3. C.
      Because she was amiable
   4. D.
      Because she was imaginative
6. 6.

   This passage implies that ______

   1. A.
      treating the elderly well is moral
   2. B.
      it is impossible to copy the exact doll for the elderly
   3. C.
      love, the permanent rhythm of life, will always remain in the elderly’s heart
   4. D.
      physical comfort from children rather than psychological care is important

When my grandfather died, my 83-year-old grandmother, once so full of life, slowly began to fade. No longer able to manage a home of her own, she moved in with my mother, where she was visited often by other members of her large, loving family. Although she still had her good days, it was often hard to arouse her interest.
But one chilly December afternoon three years ago, my daughter Meagan, then eight, and I were visiting her, when she noticed that Meagan was carrying her favorite doll.
“I, too, had a special doll when I was a little girl,” she told a wide-eyed Meagan. “I got it one Christmas when I was about your age. I lived in an old farmhouse in Maine, with Mom, Dad and my four sisters, and the very first gift I opened that Christmas was the most beautiful doll you’d ever want to see.”
“She had an elegant, hand-painted face, and her long brown hair was pulled back with a big pink bow. Her eyes were blue, and they opened and closed. I remember she had a body of kidskin, and her arms and legs bent at the joints.”
GG’s voice dropped low, taking on an almost respectful tone. “My doll was dressed in a pretty pink gown, decorated with fine lace. … Getting such a fine doll was like a miracle for a little farm girl like me — my parents must have had to sacrifice so much to afford it. But how happy I was that morning!”
GG’s eyes filled and her voice shook with emotion as she recalled that Christmas of long ago. “I played with my doll all morning long. And then it happened. My mother called us to the dining room for Christmas dinner and I laid my new doll down gently on the hall table. But as I went to join the family at the table, I heard a loud crash.”
“I hardly had to turn around — I knew it was my precious doll. And it was. Her lace skirt had hung down from the table just enough for my baby sister to reach up and pull on it. When I ran in, there lay my beautiful doll on the floor, her face smashed into a dozen pieces. She was gone forever.”
A few years later, GG’s baby sister was also gone, she told Meagan, a victim of pneumonia(肺炎). Now the tears in her eyes spilled over — tears, I knew, not only for a lost doll and a lost sister, but for a lost time.
Silent for the rest of the visit, Meagan was no sooner in the car going home than she exclaimed, “Mom, I have a great idea! Let’s get GG a new doll for Christmas. Then she won’t cry when she thinks about it.”
My heart filled with pride as I listened to my sympathetic little daughter. But where would we find a doll to match GG’s fond memories?
Where there’s a will, as they say, there’s a way. When I told my best friends, Liz and Chris, about my problem, Liz put me in touch with a local doll-make. From a doll supply house I ordered a long brown hair and a kidskin body to copy the outfit GG had so lovingly described. Liz volunteered to put the doll together, and Chris helped me make the doll’s outfit. Meagan wrote the story of the lost doll by giving examples.
Finally our creation was finished. To our eyes it was perfect. But there was no way it could be exactly like the doll GG had loved so much and lost. Would she think it looked anything like it?
On Christmas Eve, Meagan and I carried our happily packed gift to GG, where she sat surrounded by children, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. “It’s for you,” Meagan said, “but first you have to read the story that goes with it.”
GG no sooner got through the first page than her voice cracked and she was unable to go on, but Meagan took over where she left off. Then it was time to open her present.
I’ll never forget the look on GG’s face as she lifted the doll and held it to her chest. Once again her tears fell, but this time they were tears of joy. Holding the doll in her frail arms, she repeated over and over again, “She’s exactly like my old doll, exactly like her.” 
And perhaps she wasn’t saying that just to be kind. Perhaps however impossible it seemed, we had managed to produce a close copy of the doll she remembered. But as I watched my eight-year-old daughter and her great-grandmother examining the doll together, I thought of a likelier explanation. What GG really recognized, perhaps, was the love that inspired the gift. And love, wherever it comes from, always looks the same.
【小题1】GG moved in with her daughter because____.