Most mornings, the sun rose to greet the day and the bird sang its songs outside an upstairs window of the house. Inside the house Ollie and Noah would wake up. The brother and sister usually got along very well. They took turns nicely with the bathroom. They said “please” and “thank you at breakfast. They often sat together on the school bus. And after school they worked together happily on their special project — their own backyard house.

But one gray morning they didn’t get along well at all! Maybe it was the weather, or maybe it was because the bird slept late. But whatever it was, they got into a big fight.

Noah opened her eyes and stretched. Then she sat up and let her legs dangle (垂悬) over the edge of her bed-right in Ollie’s face. She didn’t do it to be rude. It was just one of those things that happens with bunk beds (双层床).

But that morning Ollie was not in a very good mood.

“Noah!” he shouted. “Get your stupid feet out of my face!”

“My feet aren’t stupid, and they’re not in your face!” she shouted back

Before Ollie could answer, she skipped into the bathroom ahead of him. She took a very long time brushing her teeth, washing up, and combing her hair.

“You’d better come out of that bathroom!” shouted Ollie, banging on the door.

“Ollie,” said Mama, coming out of her bedroom, “you know better than to shout at your sister.”

“But she’s taking too long in the bathroom,” complained Ollie, “and she’s doing it on purpose!”

When Ollie raised his fist to bang on the door again, it opened and out came Noah, all dressed up.

“Good morning, Mama,” she said, as nice as you please.

“Gr-r-r!” said Ollie.

Ollie and Noah kept on being mean to each other that day.

“I’ve had quite enough of this foolish fighting.” said Mama seriously.

The economic downturn caught us. We sold our ranch and moved to town, Mother had decided to open a day nursery. She had had no training, but that didn’t stand in her way. She sent away for correspondence courses in child care, did the lessons and in six months formally qualified herself for the task. It wasn’t long before she had a full enrollment and a waiting list. I accepted all this as a perfectly normal instance of Mother’s ability. But neither the nursery nor the motel my parents bought later had provided enough income to send my sister and me to college. In two years I would be ready for college. Time was running out, and Mother was anxious for ways to save money. It was clear that Dad could do no more than he was doing already — farming 80 acres in addition to holding a full-time job. A few months after we’d sold the motel, Mother arrived home with a used green typewriter.

“That’s all we can afford,” Mother said. “It’s good enough to learn on.” And from that day on, as soon as the table was cleared and the dishes were done, Mother would disappear into her sewing room to practice. The slow tap, tap, tap went on some nights until midnight. Soon I heard Mother got a job at the radio station. I was not the least bit surprised, or impressed. But she was wild with joy.

Monday, after her first day at work, I could see that the excitement was gone.

Tuesday, Dad made dinner and cleaned the kitchen. Mother stayed in her sewing room, practicing. “Is Mother all right?” I asked Dad. “She’s having a little trouble with her typing,” he said. “She needs to practice. I think she’d appreciate it if we all helped out a bit more. You might just remember that she is working primarily so you can go to college.”

Wednesday, I arrived home earlier and was surprised by what I saw — Mother was crying in the corner of the couch.

Mother took another job earning half, but the evening practice sessions on the old green typewriter continued.

Her pale face stood out against the blackness of her hair. She looked much younger than her fifteen years, a worn coat hanging loose above her. We weren’t supposed to take a child, but an emergency call came through that morning. A home was needed for a young girl immediately.

I, together with four children, hurried to get her room ready. The kids were great. Joanne, our second-eldest daughter, did the cleaning and Margaret, Rob and Jeff helped make the bed. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I was excited, but scared at the same time because I was told an adopted child might give us a lot of trouble.

That afternoon, Trudy arrived with the social worker Mrs. Kline. She stepped into the front hall and stood against the wall. I will never forget the look in her eyes. The first thing that came to my mind was that she looked like a hunted animal. The children moved towards her, and Jeff grabbed her hand and said proudly, “Come and see your room. I helped make your bed.” Trudy pulled back, speechless.

At this point, I stepped towards her and said, "Welcome to our home, Trudy. “She looked at me with such blank eyes. But with her head bowed, she simply said, eyes moving back and forth like a creature looking for a way out, “No, thank you.”

For the first two weeks, Trudy was very quiet. She would come into the kitchen while I was working, and we would discuss school and what she would like to do in the future. Mrs. Kline had given us all the information about her history, but I never mentioned the terrible things that had happened to her.

As the days went by, Trudy became a delight to have around. Very quickly, it seemed like she had always been with us. The girls would sit in each other’s rooms and giggle(咯咯笑) like typical teenagers. It was a sound that warmed my soul. However, when they talked about new clothes, Trudy fell silent again.

I took Joanne shopping for a winter coat, and Trudy came too.

Back home, I presented the jacket Trudy had tried on.

6 . “Leave her alone.” Hans Hubermann entered the fray (争吵). His gentle voice made its way in, as slipping through a crowd. “Leave her to me.” He moved closer and sat on the floor, against the wall. The floor was cold and unkind.

“You know how to roll a cigarette?” he asked her, and for the next hour or so, they sat in the rising pool of darkness, playing with the tobacco and the cigarette papers and Hans Hubermann smoking them.

When the hour was up, Liesel could roll a cigarette well. She still didn’t have a bath.

To most people, Hans Hubermann was barely visible. An un-special person. Certainly, his painting skills were excellent. His musical ability was better than average. Somehow, though, and   I’m sure you’ve met people like this, he was able to appear as merely part of the background, even if he was standing at the front of a line. He was always just there. Not noticeable. Not important or particularly valuable.

The frustration of that appearance, as you can imagine, was completely misleading, let’s say. There definitely was value in him, and it did not go unnoticed by Liesel Meminger. (The human child — so much cleverer at times than the stupid adults.) She saw it immediately.

His manner.

The quiet air around him.

When he turned the light on in the small, humble washroom that night, Liesel observed the strangeness of her foster father’s (养父) eyes. They were made of kindness, and silver. Like soft silver, melting. Liesel, upon seeing those eyes, understood that Hans Hubermann was worth a lot.

When Liesel finally had a bath, after two weeks of living on Himmel Street, Rosa gave her an enormous tight hug. Nearly choking her, she said, “It’s about time!”

After a few months, they were no longer Mr and Mrs Hubermann. With a few typical words, Rosa said, “Now listen, Liesel — from now on you call me Mama.” She thought a moment. “What did you call your real mother?”

Liesel answered quietly. “Also Mama.”

9 . 阅读下面材料，根据其内容和所给段落开头语续写两段，使之构成一篇完整的短文。

The alarm sounded sharply. Seven-thirty. Too early for a Saturday! And much earlier for her birthday! Rosa thought about her birthdays in hometown, when her grandmother, Abuelita, would make a cake for her, humming (哼) old songs in the kitchen.

“Rosa! Hrry!”

“Yes, Mama,” Rosa called. She wanted to stay in bed, but ever since she had turned fourteen, Saturdays here meant helping Mama at hair salon (发廊). “Where is papa?” Rosa asked. “He left an hour ago. We must go, too,” said Mama.

Rosa and Mama hurried to the bus stop. Sharing the umbrella made them hit into each other. Mama laughed. Rosa didn’t think it was funny. “I don’t like here,” she said. “I miss everything about hometown, especially Abuelita!” “I miss her too,” Mama said. “But there is more work here. We are able to send money to Abuelita.” Rosa nodded. Still, it was hard.

As Rosa arrived, the salon was already full of people. “Hello,” said Morena, Rosa’s cousin.

Rosa took the towels from a basket and started to fold (叠) them. She took a deep breath of their clean fresh smell, and was reminded again of the flowers of Abuelita. “I kept thinking about Abuelita. I miss her so much, especially today!” Rosa said. “Me, too,” Morena smiled. “But that won’t get this work done.”

Rosa carried the towels to the sinks (水池). All the chairs were filled with waiting customers. Rosa hurried over. Mama was shampooing (给…用洗发水) an old lady with a towel across her face. “Here we are. Rosa has brought you another towel.” Mama gently lifted the lady’s head and placed the towel at the base of her neck. “Better?” The woman’s face was still covered, and she didn’t speak, but she waved her hand as if to say yes.

As Mama continued, the lady hummed an old song softly.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Abuelita reached her hand into a basket and took out a homemade cake.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Is this allIgot?” asked my daughter, Allison. “I asked for a new cellphone!”

“What kind of birthday is this?” asked my son, Blake.

Blake and Allison are twins. Every year, I gave them birthday presents. But they always felt unhappy about not receiving something on their wish list.

I knew I had somewhat spoiled(宠坏)them, but I had no idea it was this bad . I was in shock. How self-centered and unappreciative could my children be?

I was determined to do something.

I found a family living on a farm that badly needed help. There were four children in the family aged from three to eight. I began to visit them every two months.

Soon, Allison and Blake’s birthday was drawing near. I decided to introduce them to the new friends. One day, I woke the kids early and drove them to the farm.

When we arrived, I told my children to take two bags off the car, of which one was filled with food and the other with many boxes full of presents my children would never be satisfied with.

We were welcomed inside with smiles and appreciation. Obviously, Alison and Blake were shocked by what they saw. I could guess they had never expected people would live such a difficult life.

“Look! Presents for you. ”Allison was trying to make the kids happier.

With their parents’ permission(允许), the kids began to pick the boxes up, shake them, and guess what was inside. They were so excited. Allison and Blake encouraged the kids to open the boxes. They did. And there were shouts of surprise and joy: a model car, chocolate …then laughter. Then grateful hugs(拥抱)and sincere “thank-yous” .

At first Alison and Blake looked confused but soon joined the children. Before long, they were laughing, too, proud that they brought happiness there.

On the way home, Alison and Blake were a little quiet. When it was time to go to bed that day, my kids hugged me and said, “Thank you, Mum. ”

The next year, with their birthday nearing, I asked Alison and Blake what presents they wanted.                            

I agreed and offered to drive them to the farm.