Leo married my mother when I was 1l, two years later we moved into a house in a new suburban development. At first our lawn (草坪) was just a mud pile with a few untidy clumps of grass, but Leo saw bright possibilities. "Your mother wants flowers; she can plant them here, where there's lots of sun," he said, "We'll plant trees over there, to give us shade. And in the backyard, I'd like a barbecue.” Then he smiled. "After so many years of apartment living, now we can have cookouts (野餐)!”

    Weekday mornings when the weather was bad, Leo often drove me to school. Having a father drop you off may have been taken for granted, but I always thought it was wonderful. During dinner, Leo would tell my brother and me stories about his job and we'd talk about our friendship and school-work.. "If you need any help, just ask me," he would say. "But I doubt that you need it. You two are so clever."

   Some people might think that doing errands (差事) and eating meals together are nothing special, but , I , who had spent my childhood watching other families do these everyday activities before, enjoyed them now with great delight. Looking back, I realize that Leo gave me what I needed most--the experience of doing ordinary things together as a family.

   One day, we learned that my "real" father -- who hadn't seen or supported my brother or me for more than five years --- wanted to see us again, on a regular basis. We remembered too well the early years we had spent with him. He had been angry and cruel, violent and unloving. Since my brother was then 17 years old, he didn't have to follow family-court rules. But because I was still a "minor", I had to meet with the judge.

    When Leo, my mother, and I entered the courtroom, my "real" father was already present. I avoided his look and told the judge I was one of a new family now, and that Leo taught me how to make things, that he always listened to me and never raised his voice. I said I didn't want to see my "real" father any more because he had never shown any love for me or even much attention.

  The judge looked at Leo. "How are things going?" he asked.

  "They couldn't be better," Leo answered. "I'm a lucky man to have such a family."

   Aren’t the best parents also good friends to their children, accepting them without reservation and telling them they can be counted on? Step families aren't bound by traditional ties, so the love and friendship they develop is extremely precious. Was Leo "perfect''? He'd deny it if I said so. And that's one reason why he was so "perfect" to me.     

   Soon after we moved to the suburb, one of our new neighbors introduced herself to me. She had already met my mother and Leo. "You know," she remarked, "you look just like your father."

     I knew she was just making conversation---- but even so...

     "Thank you," I said.

     Why tell her anything different?

67. What is the best title for the story?

A. My childhood               B. My “Real father”, My Enemy

C. My Stepfather, My Friend      D. Precious Friendship

68. Which of the following is true according to the passage?

A. Leo had lived in a large house alone in the country before he married my mother.

B. Thanks to Leo, our lawn took on a new look.

C. Before Leo came. I was always picked up by my "real" father when the weather was bad.

D. Leo wouldn’t like to help my brother and me because we were very clever.

69. What was very important to step families according to the writer?

A. Love and friendship                B. Care and respect

C. Wealth and understanding           D. Politeness and kindness

70. It can be inferred from the passage that _____.

A. My "real" father’s request was refused and he was out of my life.

B. My mother and "real" father didn’t separate until my brother was 17.

C. Leo was no one special in my life.

D. Leo and I were so alike that my neighbors couldn’t tell us apart.

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.
I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.
There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.
A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.
Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.
I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”
He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.
I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.
When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.
I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.
“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.
At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!
“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.
Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.
Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.
No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.
【小题1】The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.
I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.
There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.
A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.
Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.
I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”
He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.
I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.
When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.
I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.
“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.
At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!
“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.
Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.
Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.
No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.

1. 1.

   The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

   1. A.
      answer some questions
   2. B.
      express some unusual feelings
   3. C.
      arouse the readers’ curiosity
   4. D.
      give some advice in advance
2. 2.

   What do we know about the author and the man sitting next to him?

   1. A.
      They talked with each other all night
   2. B.
      They got angry about the window
   3. C.
      The author didn’t understand the man’s words
   4. D.
      The author didn’t like the man’s foolish questions
3. 3.

   On this journey on The Flying Bluebird, the author felt uncomfortable because ___________.

   1. A.
      he couldn’t find a seat by the window
   2. B.
      he was angry with the man sitting next to him
   3. C.
      there were too many people on the train
   4. D.
      the window was kept shut all night
4. 4.

   It can be learned from Para. 10 that the author was afraid that ____________.

   1. A.
      he would have to spend another sleepless night on the train
   2. B.
      he would miss the ship that went where he worked
   3. C.
      more people might crowd into the train
   4. D.
      he would have to buy another ticket
5. 5.

   The noise in the underlined sentence “a noise started above our heads”（Para.15）was made by __________.

   1. A.
      the angry passengers shouting at the top of their voices
   2. B.
      the ship that was lying two miles away
   3. C.
      the falling of boxes and suitcases to the floor
   4. D.
      the train itself telling people that something was wrong
6. 6.

   What would be the best title for the text?

   1. A.
      A Bad Experience on the Train
   2. B.
      A Train that Is Never Late
   3. C.
      A Quick and Wise Decision
   4. D.
      A Journey to Mendova

Though I have traveled in hundreds of trains, few unusual things have ever happened to me. But one day in a train something did happen. I do not mean that I was hurt: no one was hurt.

I do my work in a hot country far away from England. Every September I go there to do my business, and every July I come back to England to have a rest. So every September I go to Paris and take a train from the great French city to Mendova, and at Mendova I catch my ship.

There is one very fast train from Paris to Mendova, and it suits me well. It goes as far as Endoran, but it stops at Mendova for a few minutes to let travelers get out or in. It is called The Flying Bluebird. It reaches Mendova at seven minutes past nine in the morning, and it is never late.

A ship leaves Mendova at half past eleven, and so you will understand that The Flying Bluebird suits me very well. I always travel by it, and I have nearly two and a half hours at Mendova to go from the station to the ship. That is more than enough time.

Well, one September night, I took my place in The Flying Bluebird as usual. The train leaves Paris at nine o’clock every night, and I was in my place soon after half past eight. There were three or four people there with me, but very soon a lot of others got into the train. When no more people could sit down, they began to stand up near us and also in the corridor（走廊）. In a short time the corridor was full too, and it was impossible for any more travelers to get into the train.

I could see a lot of other people outside the corridor windows, but they could not get in, and the train left Paris without them. The man sitting next to me started to ask all kinds of questions: “Where do you work? How long does it take you to get there? Are you married? How many children do you have? How much money do they pay you every year? How much do you have in the bank? How much do you spend every month?”

He asked questions for about twenty minutes but I did not give him any clear answers, and at last he stopped and began to read the paper.

I usually sleep quite well in the train, but this time I slept only a little. There were too many people, and there were too many things: small bags, large bags, coats, hats, boxes, newspapers and food. As usual, we got angry about the window. Most people wanted it shut, and two of us wanted it open. But that always happens. It was shut all night, as usual.

When I awoke in the early morning I felt hot and dirty, and glad that the journey was reaching its end. At seven minutes past nine The Flying Bluebird stopped. We were at Mendova, and I stood up thankfully. I took my two suitcases, held one in each hand, and tried to move towards the door into the corridor. In order to get out of the train, I had to pass down the corridor to the door at the far end. There was no other way out.

I could not even into the corridor. There was a suitcase on the floor by my feet, and three men were standing in my way. I felt a touch of fear. I had to get out, you see; I had to catch my ship, which left at half past eleven. And the train did not stop again until it reached Endoran, two hundred miles away.

“I must get out!” I cried. Everyone there understood me, but no one could move.

At last I was able to put one foot over the suitcase on the floor, and I nearly reached the door into the corridor. But then, very slowly, the train began to move. It was taking me away!

“Stop!” I cried. “I want to get out!” But no one outside the train could hear me, and the people inside did not care much. The train moved a little faster. What could I do? I was not even in the corridor.

Fear made me think quickly. In front of my eyes, just, above the door, was a notice that told everyone how to stop the train. I had to pull an iron thing near the notice. I did not waste time. I pulled it.

Well, a noise started above our heads. That was to show everyone that there was something wrong. It was not a small sound. Possibly the men in my ship two miles away could hear it. Then the train stopped.

No one likes to stop a train if there is no need. But I had to catch my ship. That was the only thought in my mind: to get out and catch my ship.

1.The purpose of the author writing the first paragraph is to __________.

2.What do we know about the author and the man sitting next to him?

3.On this journey on The Flying Bluebird, the author felt uncomfortable because ___________.

4.It can be learned from Para. 10 that the author was afraid that ____________.

5.The noise in the underlined sentence “a noise started above our heads”（Para.15）was made by __________.

6.What would be the best title for the text?