A fried of mine named Paul received an automobile from his brother as a Christmas present. On Christmas Eve when Paul came out of his office, a naughty street boy was walking around the shiny new car, admiring it. “Is this your car, Mister?” he asked..
Paul nodded, “My brother gave it to me for Christmas.” The boy was surprised. “You mean your brother gave it to you and it didn’t cost you anything? I wish…” He hesitated（犹豫）.
Of course Paul knew what he was going to wish for. He was going to wish he had a brother like that. But what the boy said made Paul think all the way.
“I wish ,” the boy went on, “that I could be a brother like that.”
Paul looked at the boy in surprise, adding, “Would you like to take a ride in my automobile?”
“Yes, I’d love that.” After a short ride, the boy turned and said, “Mister, would you mind driving in front of my house?”
Paul smiled, He thought he knew what the boy wanted. But Paul was wrong again. “Will you stop where those two steps are?” the boy asked.
He ran up the steps. Then in a while Paul heard him coming back, but he didn’t come fast. He was carrying his little crippled（伤残） brother. He pointed to the car and said, “There it is, Buddy, just like I told you up stairs. His brother gave it to him for Christmas. And some day I’m going to give one just like it and then you can see for yourself all the pretty things in the Christmas windows that I’ve been trying tell you about. ”
Paul got out and lifted the boy to the front seat. The shining-eyed older brother climbed in beside him and the three of them began a memorable holiday ride.
That Christmas Eve, Paul learned what “It is more blessed to give” means.
【小题1】The naughty street boy wished to _____________ .

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.
【小题1】GG moved in with her daughter because ______.

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.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 long deceased parents.

C．Because she was surrounded by her offspring.

D．Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season.

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

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 amiable.                 D．Because she was imaginative.

6.This passage implies 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.

60. 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

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

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

　 B. Because she recalled her long deceased parents.

　 C. Because she was surrounded by her offspring.

　 D. Because she felt lonely during the Christmas season.

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

　 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.

63. 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.

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

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

　 C. Because she was amiable. 　　　　　　　　　　　　　 D. Because she was imaginative.

65. This passage implies 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

As I grew older, Dad was to build all sorts of things for me as I explored a variety of interests: magic tricks, a toy circus, neighborhood shows and science projects.

　 From as early as I can remember to the time I left home for college, I continued to come to him with a design or an idea, and he would figure out how to build it.

　 In fifth grade, a schoolmate and I wrote a puppet(木偶) show that we wanted to perform for our class. I made the puppet heads myself, and I made the costumes and curtains with Mon---who was as expert designing and sewing with cloth as my father was designing and working with wood and metal. With Dad I made the puppet stage, in our own invented style between kid and adult with me saying something like, “ It has to be this high, and it needs to come apart and fold up so it can fit in the backseat of the car, and it needs to set up fast, and it needs to have different colored lights on top with switches you can reach to control them and a curtain you can pull from under it, even if you still have a puppet on your hand.” Dad figured out how to make it all work, making plans as we went along. Then with the tools in his shop he built it, and I helped.

　 Dad also spent a lot of time out in the garage or in the driveway working on the family car. I don’t remember that he ever took it to a professional auto-repair shop. Maybe to save money, but also because he could usually figure out what needed fixing, just by taking it apart and looking. Though not trained as an auto mechanic, he could look under the engine cover and take parts and pieces out, spread them on a tarp (油布) to catch the oil and figure out what was supposed to happen to the machine and then figure out what wasn’t happening and then replace the worn-out part or whatever and then put everything back together again.

36. If you are the writer, you are supposed to write about ________ahead of the first paragraph.

　 A. father’s achievement in mechanics　　

　　 B. father’s love and skills in mechanics

　 C. father’s experience at repairing cars　

　　 D. father’s inventions in mechanics

37. Who helped the writer to make the puppet?

　 A．The writer himself.　　 B．His classmate. 　　 C．His teacher.　 D．His parents.

38. Before the writer went to college, he always turned to his father for _____________.

　 A．designing a machine　　　　　　　 　　　　 　　B．building his design or idea

　 C．making a puppet show　　　　　　 　　　 　　D．building a show stage

39. According to the passage, which of the following is TRUE?

　 A．The writer’s car is always breaking down.

　　 B．Father works in a car repairing shop.

　 C．Repairing in a shop can save much money.

　　 D．Father was good at mending his car.

40. The purpose of the writer’s writing the passage is ______________.

　 A．to tell how his father made a puppet for him

　 B．in memory of his parents

　 C．to describe to the readers his memories about his father

　 D．to argue that parents should help children to explore the world and make inventions