My sister ________ shy, but now she ________ a little outgoing．

1. A.
   use to, is
2. B.
   used to be, is
3. C.
   used to, has
4. D.
   used to be, has

--- Ben, can you come to my birthday party?

---______, but I have to babysit my sister at home.

A. No, I can’t 　　　　　　　 B. sorry, I don’t want to

C. Yes, please 　　　　　　　 D. Yes, I’d love to

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.

Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she’d said again, “it’s for Elizabeth.”

I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter

They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易動(dòng)感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.

As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.

I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.

My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace—it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.

Now the present of her desk told, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--- a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折疊) and refolded many times.

Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.

1.The writer began to love her mother’s desk____________.

   A. after Mother died.

   B. before she became a writer.

   C. when she was a child

   D. when Mother gave it to her

2. The passage shows that _____________.

   A. mother was cold on the surface but kind in her heart to her daughter

   B. mother was too serious about everything her daughter had done

   C. mother cared much about her daughter in words

   D. mother wrote to her daughter in careful words

3.The word “gulf” in the passage means ____________.

   A. deep understanding between the old and the young

   B. different ideas between the mother and the daughter

   C. free talks between mother daughter

   D. part of the sea going far in land

4.What did mother do with her daughter’s letter?

   A. She had never received the letter.

   B. For years, she often talked about the letter.

   C. She didn’t forgive her daughter at all in all her life.

   D. She read the letter again and again till she died.

5.What is the best title of the passage?

   A. My Letter to Mother        B. Mother and Children

   C. My Mother’s Desk         D. Talks between Mother and Me

I’ve loved my mother’s desk since I was just tall enough to see above the top of it as mother sat doing letters. Standing by her chair, looking at the ink bottle, pens, and white paper, I decided that the act of writing must be the most wonderful thing in the world.
Years later, during her final illness, mother kept different things for my sister and brother. “But the desk,” she’d said again, “it’s for Elizabeth.”
I never saw her angry, never saw her cry. I knew she loved me; she showed it in action. But as a young girl, I wanted heart-to-heart talks between mother and daughter
They never happened. And a gulf opened between us. I was “too emotional(易動(dòng)感情的)”. But she lived “on the surface”.
As years passed I had my own family. I loved my mother and thanked her for our happy family. I wrote to her in careful words and asked her to let me know in any way she chose that she did forgive me.
I posted the letter and waited for her answer. None came.
My hope turned to disappointment, then little interest and, finally, peace—it seemed that nothing happened. I couldn’t be sure that the letter had even got to mother. I only knew that I had written it, and I could stop trying to make her into someone she was not.
Now the present of her desk told, as she’d never been able to, that she was pleased that writing was my chosen work. I cleaned the desk carefully and found some papers inside--- a photo of my father and a one-page letter, folded(折疊) and refolded many times.
Give me an answer, my letter asks, in any way you choose. Mother, you always chose the act that speaks louder than words.
【小題1】The writer began to love her mother’s desk____________.

—Can you go to the mall with me this Sunday?

 —________, because I have to babysit my sister.

A. Sure          B. No           C. Yes           D. Sorry