| 完形填空。 | ||||
| It was Christmas. I was teaching in a small town where my twenty-seven third graders excitedly expected the great day of gift-giving in a couple of days. Each day the children produced some new 1 -Christmas cards, handmade gifts, German bells and so on. Through it all she remained alone, 2 from far away. I wondered what would happen to this quiet child, once so happy, now suddenly so quiet. I hoped the festivities would please her. But nothing did. The students made the fried marbles (small balls, made of glass or stone) and competed with one another to bring the 3 ones. The day of gift-giving finally came. We cheered over our handiwork as the presents were 4 . All along, she sat quietly, watching. To see her smile, I had made a special bag for her. She opened it so slowly and carefully. I waited but she 5 . After school I sat down in a chair, hardly knew what was happening, when she came to me with out-stretched hands, holding a small white box that looked a little old, as if it had been 6 many times by unknown, childish hands. She said nothing."For me?" I asked. She said not a word, but 7 her head. I took the box and carefully opened it. There inside, shining green, a fried marble hung from a golden chain. Then I looked into that eight-year-old 8 and saw the question in her dark brown eyes. 9 I knew-she had made it for her mother, who had died just three weeks before and would never hold her or brush her hair or 10 her childish joys or sorrows. I meant 11 when I said in a low voice, "Oh, Maria, it is so beautiful. Your mother would love it." Neither of us could stop the tears. She threw herself into my arms and we cried together. And for that moment I became her mother, for she had given me the greatest 12 of all: her trust and love. | ||||
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