(Q).
When I was fourteen, I earned money in the summer by cutting lawns , and within a few weeks I had built up a body of customers. I got to know people by the flowers they planted that I had to remember not to cut down, by the things they lost in the grass or struck in the ground on purpose. I reached the point with most of them when I knew in advance what complaint was about to be spoken, which request was most important. And I learned something about the measure of my neighbors by their preferred method of payment: by the job, by the month--or not at all. Mr. Ballou fell into the last category, and he always had a reason why. On one day, he had no change for a fifty, on another he was flat out of checks, on another, he was simply out when I knocked on his door. Still, except for the money apart, he was a nice enough guy, always waving or tipping his hat when he'd seen me from a distance. I figured him for a thin retirement check, maybe a work-related injury that kept him from doing his own yard work. Sure, I kept track of the total, but I didn't worry about the amount too much. Grass was grass, and the little that Mr. Ballou's property comprised didn't take long to trim  . Then, one late afternoon in mid-July, the hottest time of the year, I was walking by his house and he opened the door, mentioned me to come inside. The hall was cool, shaded, and it took my eyes a minute to adjust to the dim light. "I owe you," Mr Ballou said, "but..." I thought I'd save him the trouble of thinking of a new excuse. "No problem. Don't worry about it." "The bank made a mistake in my account," he continued, ignoring my words. "It will be cleared up in a day or two. But in the meantime I thought perhaps you could choose one or two volumes for a down payment. He gestured toward the walls and I saw that books were stacked   everywhere. It was like a library, except with no order to the arrangement. "Take your time," Mr. Ballou encouraged. "Read, borrow, keep, or find something you like. What do you read?" "I don't know." And I... Before his encounter with Mr. Ballou, the author used to read   _  . A) anything and everything B) only what was given to him C) only serious novels D) nothing in the summer
(A).
A


(Q).
There once lived a rich businessman who had a lazy son. The businessman wanted his son to realize the value of labour and said: "Today, I want you to go out and earn something, failing which you won't have your meals tonight." He went crying straight to his mother. Her heart melted at her son's eyes. She gave him a gold coin. When the father asked his son what he had earned, the son presented him the gold coin. The father asked him to throw it into a well. The next day, he asked his son to earn something. This time he went crying to his sister who gave him a coin. When he showed it to his father he again asked him to throw it in a well. Then the father asked him to earn more money. This time since there was no one to help him, the son was forced to go to the market. One shopkeeper told him he would pay him two coins if he carried his trunk to his house. He did so and sweated plenty. As he returned home he was asked to do the same. The son almost cried out. He could not imagine throwing his hard-earned money like this. He cried, "My entire body is aching. You are asking me to throw the money into the well." At this moment, the businessman told him one feels the pain only when the fruits of hard labour are wasted. On the earlier two occasions he was helped and therefore had no pain in throwing the coins into the well. The son had now realized the value of hard work. He promised never to be lazy and to safely keep the father's wealth. The father handed over the keys of his shop to the son and promised to guide him through the rest of the life. Which of the following is TRUE? A) At first the son was hard-working and responsible. B) The father taught his son a lesson in a good way. C) The father didn't like his son at all. D) The businessman was a little lazy.
(A).
B


(Q).
While I was on my way to Walmart, I was greeted by an elder woman who was working at the door as a greeter, I had a return to make so she stopped me and asked to tag my bag. Usually I would have gotten annoyed because I know I don't steal, so why does my bag need to be tagged? I'd just witnessed someone ahead of me being not so nice, and treating the lady like she was a nobody. I could see this lady looked to be at retirement age, trying to make ends meet. The look on her face and the energy she gave was that of someone afraid and not knowing where they stood in life. Not to mention the person ahead of me who'd just snatched  a bag back from her and stormed off without even saying thank you. I could tell this woman was hurt by that, and no one knows how many people had been treating her that way all day long. What if she was a grandmother who'd recently taken care of her grandchildren for whatever season? What if her husband she had to support recently fell sick and they couldn't afford the medical expenses, so she had to go back to work? What if she just lost everything she had in her retirement and now she had to go back to work? All she wants is to do her job and do it well. All she wants is to serve customers the way she was trained. All she needs is to be appreciated. Can I be that someone she needs, just for the moment? I looked her in her eyes as she scanned my bag, smiled and said, "Your hair is beautiful and fits you well!" Her face lit up and she smiled back and began to tell me how much easier it is to manage. It was salt-and-pepper hair and was cut in the prettiest style. She handed my bag back, smiled and told me the service desk was straight down to my left. I said "Thank you!" By saying "Your hair is beautiful and fits you well." the author wanted to   _  . A) make the old woman feel appreciated B) please her so as not to let her bag tagged C) praise her for her hair style and clothes D) confirm her hard work and special beauty
(A).

A