Article: When I was seven, my parents gave me a doll, a doll's house and a book. The Arabian Nights, came wrapped in red paper. I was just ready to read when my mother walked into my room. "Isn't your doll just beautiful?" my mother asked. I looked at the doll, with fair hair in a pink dress----I'll have to call her "she" because I never gave her a name. I folded my lips and raised my eyebrows, not really knowing how to let my mother down easily. "This doll is different." My mother explained, trying to talk me into playing with it. Thinking the doll needed love, I hugged her tightly for a long time. Useless, I said to myself. Finally, I decided to play with the doll's house. But since rearranging the tiny furniture seemed to be the only active possible, I lost interest. I caught sight again of the third of my gifts The Arabian Nights, and I began to read it. From that moment, the book was my constant companion. Every day I climbed our garden tree, nestled among its branches, I read the stories in The Arabian Nights to my heart's content. My mother became concerned as she noticed I wasn't playing with either the doll or the little house. She insisted that I take the doll up the tree with me. Trying to read on a branch 15 feet off the ground while holding on to the silly doll was not easy. After nearly falling off twice, I tied one end of a long vine around the doll's neck and the opposite one around the branch, letting the doll hang in mid air while I read. I always looked out for my mother, though. I sensed that my playing with the doll was of great importance to her. So every time I heard her coming, I lifted the doll up and hugged her. The smile in my mother's eyes told me my plan worked. The inevitable happened one afternoon. Totally absorbed in the reading, I didn't hear my mother calling me. When I looked down, I saw my mother staring at the hanging doll. Fearing the worst of scolding, I climbed down in a flash, reaching the ground just as my mother was untying the doll. To my surprise, she didn't scold. She... Question: Why didn't the author give the doll a name? Yes or no, is the answer "Because the girl didn't care much for the doll."?
No

Article: One night Mrs. Riley, an elderly woman, was walking along a dark prefix = st1 /Londonstreet. She was carrying her handbag in one hand and a plastic carrier bag in the other. There was nobody else in the street except two young men. They were standing in a dark shop doorway. One of them was very tall with fair hair, the other was short and fat with a beard. The two young men waited for a few moments, and then ran quickly and quietly towards Mrs. Riley. The tall one held her from behind while the other one tried to seize her handbag. Suddenly Mrs. Riley threw the tall one over her shoulder. He crashed into the other one and they both landed on the ground. Without speaking, Mrs. Riley struck both of them on the head with her handbag and walked calmly away. The two surprised young men were still sitting on the ground when Mrs. Riley crossed the street towards a door with a lighted sign above it. Mrs. Riley paused, turned round, smiled at them and walked into the South West London Judo Club. Question: The story tells about an elderly woman who_. Yes or no, is the answer "had a skill of self-defense"?
No

Q: Article: I used to think that life in Jim Thorpe, Pennsylvania, was filled with never-changing routines. I hated that everyone seemed to know everything about everyone else. Everyone seemed to enjoy talking about other people and their lives. I also didn't like the fact that people seemed very close-minded. I felt trapped. I felt like I was missing out on opportunities. It seemed to me that city life would be the opposite. Then I took my first trip to New York City. I couldn't wait to experience the city. However, when I arrived in the Big Apple, it wasn't at all what I had imagined. I knew it was home to thousands of people, but I hadn't had the least expectation to see so many people on the street at one time. All the streets were filled with people. I also felt a little surprised to see that everyone was in a hurry and everything moved at such a fast pace. When I took the subway for the first time, I said hello to the middle-aged woman next to me. She looked at me with dislike and didn't say a word. After just one day, I realized how important my small town is to me. Now I appreciate the familiar faces I see every day. I like the feeling of security and belonging my town offers. Jim Thorpe gives me a sense of community and togetherness that the city doesn't provide. I realize just how much a simple hello does for a stranger -- it really can make your day a little better. My big trip showed me that my small town really has instilled morals and values in me that I didn't even know I had. I never would have known what a big place my town holds in my heart if I had not taken that trip to New York City. Question: What surprised the author most in New York City? Yes or no, is the answer "The crowded streets."?
A: No

(Question)
Article: "Good fences make good neighbors", the television commentator said, misquoting Robert Frost for the millionth time in my memory.It made me wonder if the poet was not looking down from Heaven and sadly shaking his head. No line of poetry has ever been more misused in history than that one.It comes from Frost' s great poem Mending Wall.In it he writes of him and his neighbor repairing the broken stone wall that divides their property .Frost questions why they are doing so, because there are no animals that need fencing in.He sees as well that the wall is a symbol of the barriers that people create to separate themselves from each other.He wisely writes that, "Before I built a wall I'd ask to know what I was walling in or walling out, and to whom I was like to give offence .'Something there is that doesn't love a wall, that wants it down'." His neighbor, however, who Frost describes as a "stone savage" who "moves in darkness" refuses to part from the ways of his forefathers and goes along foolishly with their belief that "Good fences make good neighbors." I wonder if Mr.Frost would have ever written his poem if he had known that the line he wrote in irony would be used again and again to encourage what he was so against.Perhaps he would have written a different one about tearing down the fences that separate us and breaking apart the walls that hide our hearts from each other.Either way, we should embrace the wisdom he shared with us.Fences and walls separate us from each other.We need to take them down stone by stone, walk through them, and embrace each other in joy.We need to love our neighbors.We need to see that good fences DO NOT make good neighbors.They just make lonely hearts. Question: What can we say about the author from the text? Yes or no, is the answer "He is anxious about the misunderstanding of Frost's idea."?
(Answer)
No