One cold day in the early spring of the year, my father, who was a farmer, was ploughing(耕地)．I, eleven years old then, was 　　1　　 the horse．I didn't do the 　　2　　 well as it was rather cold．I thought the task was a little 　　3　　 for me．

　　“Dad,”I said,“　　4　　 must I stay in the field?”“An hour,”he answered．An hour 　　5　　 a long time and I said, “I 　　6　　 if I can go home now．My 　　7　　 aches．”

　　“I'm very sorry,”said my father,“but can't you 　　8　　 till it's time for dinner?”“I think not－my headache is getting 　　9　　．”

　　“Well,” he said, taking me 　　10　　 the horse and suspecting(怀疑)that my disease was rather in my heart than my head,“you may go home．I don't want you to work 　　11　　 you are sick．Go straight home, and tell your mother that I say you must take a large bowl of rhubarb(大黄)．Tell her that I think it will 　　12　　 you a lot of good!”

　　There was no choice．I went home, of course, and I had to offer the 　　13　　 to my mother．I told her that I thought my head was better, 　　14　　 not to take the terrible 　　15　　．But it was of no use and it was too late．She understood my case(情况)as 　　16　　 as my father did．She knew well enough that my disease was 　　17　　．So she prepared a large bowl of rhubarb and I had to swallow all of it．Dear me!How 　　18　　 it was!I am sure I would rather ride the horse all day than be treated 　　19　　 that way．Since then I've never told another 　　20　　．

　　Honesty is the best policy．

阅读下面短文，从每题所给的四个选项(A、B、C、D)中，选出最佳选项。

　　It happened in one of those colorful Danish inns which offer service specially for tourists and where English is spoken．I was with my father on a business－and－pleasure trip, and in our free hours we were having a wonderful time．

　　“I wish Mother were here．” I said．

　　“If your mother had come with us,” said Father, “it would have been wonderful to show her around．”

　　He had visited Denmark when he was a young man, I asked him, “How long is it since you were here?”

　　“Oh, about thirty years．I remember being in this very inn, by the way．” He looked around, remembering．“Those were pleasant and enjoyable days…” He stopped wuddenly, and I saw that his face was pale．I followed his eyes and looked across the room to a woman who was setting drinks before some customers．She might have been pretty once, but now she was fat and her hair was untidy．“Do you know her” I asked．

　　“I did once,” he said．

　　The woman came to our table．“Drinks?” she asked．

　　“We'll have beer,” I said．She nodded and went away．

　　“I couldn't believe it! How she has changed! Thank heaven she didn't recognize me,” Father said in a low voice, cleaning his face with a handkerchief．“I knew her before I met your mother, ”he went on．“I was a student, on a tour．She was a lovely young girl, very graceful．I fell madly in love with her, and she with me．”

　　“Does Mother know about her?” I said suddenly, without thinking．

　　“Of course,” Father said gently．He looked at me a little anxiously．I felt embarrassed(尴尬)for him．

　　I said, “Dad, you don't have to…”

　　“Your mother would tell you if she were here．I don't want you wondering about this．I was a foreigner to her family．I depended on my father．If she had married me, she wouldn't have had any bright future．So her father was against our romance．When I wrote to my father that I wanted to get married he stopped posting money to me．And I had to go home．But I met the girl once more, and told her I would return to America, borrow enough money to get married on, and come back for her in a few months．”

　　“We knew, ”he continued, “that her father might stop and take away our letter, so we agreed that I would simply mail her a slip of paper with a date on it, the time she was to meet me at a certain place; then we'd get married．Well, I went home, got the money and sent her the date．She received the note．She wrote me：‘I'll be there．’ But she wasn't．Then I found that she had been married about two weeks before, to a local innkeeper．She hadn't waited．”

　　Then my father said, “Thank God she didn't．I went home, met your mother, and we’ve been completely happy．We often joke about youthful love romance．I suggest that one day you write a story about it．”

　　The woman appeared with our beer．

　　“You are from America?” she asked me．

　　“Yes,” I said．

　　She smiled happily, “A wonderful country, America．”

　　“Yes, a lot of your countrymen have gone there．Did you ever think of it?”

　　“Not me．Not now, ”she said．“I thought so one time, a long time ago．But I stayed here．It's much better here．”

　　We drank our beer and left．Outside I said, “Father, just how did you write that date on which she was to meet you?”

　　He stopped, took out an envelope and wrote on it．“Like this, ”he said．“12/11/13, which was, of course, December11th, 1913．”

　　“No!”I said loudly．“It isn't in Denmark or any European country．Over here they write the day first, then the month．So that date wouldn't be December11th but the 12th of November!”

　　Father passed his hand over his face．“So she was there!” he signed,“and it was because I didn't show up that she got married．” He was silent a while．“Well,” he said, “I hope she's happy．She seems to be．”

　　As we continued walking I said, “It's a lucky thing it happened that way．You wouldn't have met Mother．”

　　He put his arm around my shoulders, looked at me with a heartwarming smile, and said,“I was doubly lucky, young man, for otherwise I wouldn't have met you, either!”