It was Saturday. As always, it was a busy one, for “Six days shall you labor and all your work” was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.
Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string(线). It seemed there was  no limit to the heights to which kites would fly today.
My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she
cast a look toward the window. “Come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”
On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her girls. There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys’ kites and they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.
Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. “Perhaps it’s like this in the kingdom of heaven,” I thought confusedly.
It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn’t mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep “the things that cannot be and yet they are.”
The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to “go park, see duck.” “I can’t go!” I said. “I have this and this to do, and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”
My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered, “really warm, yet there’s a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?”
I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. “Come on,” I told my little girl. “You’re right, it’s too good a day to miss.”
Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath(余波) of a great war. All evening we had been asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of --- what dark and horrible things?
“Say!” A smile sipped out from his lips. “Do you remember --- no, of course you wouldn’t. It probably didn’t make the impression on you as it did on me.”
I hardly dared speak. “Remember what?”
“I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”
【小题1】Mrs. Patrick was laughing guiltily because she thought________.

It was Saturday. As always, it was a busy one, for “Six days shall you labor and all your work” was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.

Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string(线). It seemed there was  no limit to the heights to which kites would fly today.

My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she

cast a look toward the window. “Come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”

On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her girls. There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys’ kites and they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.

Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. “Perhaps it’s like this in the kingdom of heaven,” I thought confusedly.

It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn’t mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep “the things that cannot be and yet they are.”

The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to “go park, see duck.” “I can’t go!” I said. “I have this and this to do, and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”

My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered, “really warm, yet there’s a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?”

I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. “Come on,” I told my little girl. “You’re right, it’s too good a day to miss.”

Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath(余波) of a great war. All evening we had been asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of --- what dark and horrible things?

“Say!” A smile sipped out from his lips. “Do you remember --- no, of course you wouldn’t. It probably didn’t make the impression on you as it did on me.”

I hardly dared speak. “Remember what?”

“I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”

1.Mrs. Patrick was laughing guiltily because she thought________.

A．she was too old to fly kites

B．her husband would make fun of her

C．she should have been doing her housework

D．her girls weren’t supposed to the boy’s games

2. By “we were all beside ourselves writer means that they all ________.

A．felt confused                           B．went wild with joy

C．looked on                             D．forgot their fights

3. What did the author think after the kite-flying?

A．The boys must have had more fun than the girls.

B．They should have finished their work before playing.

C．Her parents should spend more time with them.

D．All the others must have forgotten that day.

4.Why did the writer finally agree to take her little girl for an outing?

A．She suddenly remembered her duty as a mother.

B．She was reminded of the day they flew kites.

C．She had finished her work in the kitchen.

D．She thought it was a great day to play outside.

5. The youngest Patrick boy is mentioned to show that ______.

A．the writer was not alone in treasuring her fond memories

B．his experience in POW camp threw a shadow over his life

C．childhood friendship means so much to the writer

D．people like him really changed a lot after the war

It was Saturday. As always, it was a busy one, for “Six days shall you labor and all your work” was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.
Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string(线). It seemed there was  no limit to the heights to which kites would fly today.
My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she
cast a look toward the window. “Come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”
On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her girls. There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys’ kites and they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.
Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. “Perhaps it’s like this in the kingdom of heaven,” I thought confusedly.
It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn’t mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep “the things that cannot be and yet they are.”
The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to “go park, see duck.” “I can’t go!” I said. “I have this and this to do, and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”
My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered, “really warm, yet there’s a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?”
I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. “Come on,” I told my little girl. “You’re right, it’s too good a day to miss.”
Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath(余波) of a great war. All evening we had been asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of --- what dark and horrible things?
“Say!” A smile sipped out from his lips. “Do you remember --- no, of course you wouldn’t. It probably didn’t make the impression on you as it did on me.”
I hardly dared speak. “Remember what?”
“I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”

1. 1.

   Mrs. Patrick was laughing guiltily because she thought______.

   1. A.
      she was too old to fly kites
   2. B.
      her husband would make fun of her
   3. C.
      she should have been doing her housework
   4. D.
      her girls weren’t supposed to the boy’s games
2. 2.

   By “we were all beside ourselves writer means that they all ______.

   1. A.
      felt confused
   2. B.
      went wild with joy
   3. C.
      looked on
   4. D.
      forgot their fights
3. 3.

   What did the author think after the kite-flying?

   1. A.
      The boys must have had more fun than the girls
   2. B.
      They should have finished their work before playing
   3. C.
      Her parents should spend more time with them
   4. D.
      All the others must have forgotten that day
4. 4.

   Why did the writer finally agree to take her little girl for an outing?

   1. A.
      She suddenly remembered her duty as a mother
   2. B.
      She was reminded of the day they flew kites
   3. C.
      She had finished her work in the kitchen
   4. D.
      She thought it was a great day to play outside
5. 5.

   The youngest Patrick boy is mentioned to show that ______.

   1. A.
      the writer was not alone in treasuring her fond memories
   2. B.
      his experience in POW camp threw a shadow over his life
   3. C.
      childhood friendship means so much to the writer
   4. D.
      people like him really changed a lot after the war

It was Saturday. As always, it was a busy one, for “Six days shall you labor and all your work” was taken seriously back then. Outside, Father and Mr. Patrick next door were busy chopping firewood. Inside their own houses, Mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring cleaning.

Somehow the boys had slipped away to the back lot with their kites. Now, even at the risk of having brother caught to beat carpets, they had sent him to the kitchen for more string(线). It seemed there was

no limit to the heights to which kites would fly today.

My mother looked at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a thorough sweeping. Again she

cast a look toward the window. “Come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”

On the way we met Mrs. Patric, laughing guiltily as if she were doing something wrong, together with her girls. There never was such a day for flying kites! We played all our fresh string into the boys’ kites and they went up higher and higher. We could hardly distinguish the orange-colored spots of the kites. Now and then we slowly pulled one kite back, watching it dancing up and down in the wind, and finally bringing it down to earth, just for the joy of sending it up again.

Even our fathers dropped their tools and joined us. Our mothers took their turn, laughing like schoolgirls. I think we were all beside ourselves. Parents forgot their duty and their dignity; children forgot their everyday fights and little jealousies. “Perhaps it’s like this in the kingdom of heaven,” I thought confusedly.

It was growing dark before we all walked sleepily back to the housed. I suppose we had some sort of supper. I suppose there must have been surface tidying-up, for the house on Sunday looked clean and orderly enough. The strange thing was, we didn’t mention that day afterward. I felt a little embarrassed. Surely none of the others had been as excited as I. I locked the memory up in that deepest part of me where we keep “the things that cannot be and yet they are.”

The years went on, then one day I was hurrying about my kitchen in a city apartment, trying to get some work out of the way while my three-year-old insistently cried her desire to “go park, see duck.” “I can’t go!” I said. “I have this and this to do, and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”

My mother, who was visiting us, looked up from the peas she was shelling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered, “really warm, yet there’s a fine breeze. Do you remember that day we flew kites?”

I stopped in my dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. “Come on,” I told my little girl. “You’re right, it’s too good a day to miss.”

Another decade passed. We were in the aftermath(余波) of a great war. All evening we had been asking our returned soldier, the youngest Patrick Boy, about his experiences as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but now for a long time he had been silent. What was he thinking of --- what dark and horrible things?

“Say!” A smile sipped out from his lips. “Do you remember --- no, of course you wouldn’t. It probably didn’t make the impression on you as it did on me.”

I hardly dared speak. “Remember what?”

“I used to think of that day a lot in POW camp (战俘营), when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”

76. Mrs. Patrick was laughing guiltily because she thought________.

A. she was too old to fly kites              

B. her husband would make fun of her

C. she should have been doing her housework 

D. her girls weren’t supposed to the boy’s games

77. By “we were all beside ourselves writer means that they all ________.

A. felt confused      B. went wild with joy  

C. looked on        D. forgot their fights

78. What did the author think after the kite-flying?

A. The boys must have had more fun than the girls. 

B. They should have finished their work before playing.

C. Her parents should spend more time with them.  

D. All the others must have forgotten that day.

79. Why did the writer finally agree to take her little girl for an outing?

A. She suddenly remembered her duty as a mother. 

B. She was reminded of the day they flew kites.

C. She had finished her work in the kitchen.       

D. She thought it was a great day to play outside.

80. The youngest Patrick boy is mentioned to show that ______.

A. the writer was not alone in treasuring her fond memories

B. his experience in POW camp threw a shadow over his life

C. childhood friendship means so much to the writer  

D. people like him really changed a lot after the war

The hardworking blacksmith Jones used to work all day in his shop and so hard-working was he that at times he would make the sparks(火星) fly from his hammer.
The son of Mr.Smith, a rich neighbour, used to come to see the blacksmith every day and for hours and hours he would enjoy himself watching how the tradesman worked.
“ Young man, why don’t you try your hand to learn to make shoe tacks (钉) , even if it is only to pass the time ? ” said the blacksmith. “ Who knows, one day, it may be of use to you .”
The lazy boy began to see what he could do. But after a little practice he found that he was becoming very skilled and soon he was making some of the finest tacks.
Old Mr. Smith died and the son on account of the war lost all his goods. He had to leave home and was forced to live in another country. It so happened that in this village there were many shoemakers who were spending a lot of money buying tacks for their shoes and even at times when they paid high prices they were not always able to get what they wanted, because in that part of the country there was a high demand for soldiers’ shoes.
Our young Mr. Smith, who was finding it difficult to earn his daily bread, remembered that once upon a time he had learned the art of making tacks and had the sudden idea of making a bargain with the shoemakers. He told them that he would make the tacks if they would help to get him settled in the workshop. The shoemakers were only too glad of the offer. And after a while, Mr. Smith found that he was soon making the finest tacks in the village.
“ How funny it seems, ” he used to say, “ even making tacks can make money. My trade is more useful to me than all my former riches.”
【小题1】The young man learnt to make shoe tacks because ___________.