您的浏览器不支持FLASH,无法播放语音,请点此下载并安装FLASH PLAYER


Lesson 37

                                             Text A

                                Do You Know Who I Am?
    Mr Smith is well known in Washington because of his many social blunders. He alwavs likes to attend the various social functions because he wants to expand his circle of friend. Whenever he is invited , he goes , unless he is ill.

    Recently he received an invitation to a fashionable banquet. Although he did not know the hostess, he accepted the invitation. He was secretly very pleased, because he felt that his reputation as a desirable guest was growing.
    When he arrived. at the banquet hall, he found that about one hundred people had been invited. He began to move around the hall. He spoke to other guests whether he knew them or not. He soon realized that he had never met any of the other people present, although they seemed to know each other.

    At dinner, he was seated beside a very dignified woman. The woman tried to be friendly even though she had never met Mr Smith before. She spoke politely, whenever he spoke to her. Between the first and second course of the meal , she turned to Mr Smith and said, "Do you see that gray-haired man at the end of the table? The one with the glasses. "

    "Ah, yes. Who is he?" asked Mr Smith.
    "He's the Secretary of the Interior!" she replied.
    Mr Smith said: "So that's the Secretary of the Interior! I'm afraid that I find very little to admire about him, although he is the Secretary. "
    The woman stiffened and did not reply. Smith continued in spite of her coldness. "I really can't see how he received his appointment, unless he is perhaps a relative of the President. "

    "It hardly matters whether you like the Secretary of not," she said. "He was chosen because the President thought he was the man for the job If he does the job well, you should have no complairit. "
    "That's just it,"persisted Smith. "No one does the things he does , unless he is a complete fool ! "

    "Sir! "said the woman in all her dignity. "Do you know who I am?"
    "No," replied Smith.
    "I am the Secretary's wife, "she said coldly. Mr Smith was flabbergasted, but he went on in spite of his embarrassment. "Madam, do you know who I am?"
    "No, I don't," the woman replied.
    "Thank goodness! "exclaimed Mr Smith, as he quickly left the table.

                                              Text B

                                        Hands Up! 

     This was the conversation in the expensive shop in London. A man and a woman walked in and . . .
SALESMAN:   Can I help you?
WOMAN:   Yes , we're looking for a watch. It's for me.
SALESMAN:   I see. What price are you interested in?
MAN:   The price doesn't matter. But it must be a gold watch.
WOMAN:   And automatic. I must have an automatic watch !
SALESMAN:   Hmm... something like this, perhaps. It's one of our best watches. Made in
  Switzerland. Fully automatic. With a calendar and...
MAN:   It's nice .. . but haven't you got anything better?
SALESMAN:   Better? Better than this? Well , we have some Orly de luxe watches... 
  probably the best watch in the world. But I'm afraid they're far more
  expensive than this one. They cost. . .
MAN:   Would you show us one, please?
WOMAAN:   Yes , could we see one of them . please?
SALESMAN:   They're in the managcr's office. You sce, we don't. . .
MAN:   Could you possibly get onc or two of them now?
SAI.EsMAN:   Er. . . yes , of course. Would you wait here for a moment. Please?
  (He goes to the manager'sd knocks on the door. )
MANAGEK:   Come in.
SALESMAN:   Mr Crawford, I have two customers who..
WOMAN:   All right ! Hands up ! Stand over there !
SALEsMAN:   What in the world. . .
MAN:   Shut up! And open that safe ! Come on! Open it !
MANAGER:   I. . . I can't open it.
MAN:   What do you mean? You must open it.
MANAGER:   You told. me to. put my hands up. How can I open the safe with my hands up?


                                  Question on Text B

7. Read the following passage once. Underline the key words while reading and retell the story to your partner.

    Henry D. Penrose was a dog with a pedigree. He lived in a fine stone house with white marble steps and red velvet drapes on every window.
    His owner, Professor Randolph Penrose, was quite rich. Each morning Henry was driven to Obedience School in a long black limousine. "

    Each afternoon he was fed two grilled lamb chops for lunch.
    Each evening he fell asleep in his fur-lined basket in front of the fire- place.
    On Saturdays he was groomed at Miss Fifi's Shop. And on Sundays he accompanied the professor to the park, where a classical orchestra played soothing music and the grass was cool and fragrant.

    Professor Penrose would stroke Henry's shiny coat and say, "You have the life, Henry my boy!"
    And Henry certainly had to agree.
    Then one day it all changed. Just. Like. That. professor Penrose received a telegram offering him a chance to dig for dinosaur bones in Idaho. For one entire year.
    There was only one problem. The telegram stated quite firmly in the largest letters possible: NO PETS ALLOWED!

    The cook, Mrs Washburn, agreed to take Henry to her home until the professor returned.
    Professor Penrose hated to send Henry to live on the other side of the city. There were no marble steps or red velvet drapes on Mrs Washburn's property.
    But Henry was buttoned into his red plaid coat and driven to the Washburn residence.
    Henry stepped out of the limousine. He was so shocked that his ears stuck out like two car doors.

    Such an untidy home he had never seen. It was all he could do to maintain a sense of dignity.
    He was picking his way through the toys on the muddy front steps when a tumble of children spilled onto the porch, scooped him up, and before you could say"One-two"Henry was deposited in a sea of soap bubbles in the Washburn bathtub.
    Each time he tried to jump out, little hands pushed him back in. "Don't be too rough, children," said Mrs Washburn. "Henry isn't used to such fun. "

    Dinner that evening was a big steamy ham bone. Bits of cabbage fell from it as one of the children tossed it from the pot to Henry. What! thought Henry. No plate?
    He wondered if he'd ever see a grilled lamb chop again.
    By bedtime, Henry was exhausted. His fur-lined basket had been left behind. Where would he sleep?

    Just then two of the children carried him off to a room with three bunk beds.
    "Henry's sleeping with me ! " announced one child , pulling him to one bunk.
    "Oh no! Henry's sleeping with me!" protested another, yanking him toward another bunk.
    A third child elbowed his way in, and Henry flopped to the floor.

    Before he could crawl under one of the beds, a pillow fight broke out.
    Thwack! A pillow smacked into Henry's face. He barked. Loud!
    Mrs Washburn came scurrying down the hallway. The children scattered into their beds.
    "Why, Henry!" scolded Mrs Washburn. "You never barked like that before! Quiet down, or the children will never get to sleep!"

    On Sunday there was no park or classical orchestra. No cool and fragrant grass. Just the Washburn's backyard with its dandelion clumps and creaky swings and a fort made out of empty cardboard boxes.
    The children wrestled with Henry. They scratched his ears and tied an old red Christmas ribbon around his neck. They tried to make him chase the cat next door. Baby Washburn even kissed him-a big, sloppy, wet, strawberry-lollipop kiss , right on the nose.

    Later, when Baby toppled over onto Henry's tail, they both cried: "
"Yeeeeooooooow !
    Mrs Washburn poked her head out of the back door. "Don't hurt Baby, Henry. "
    Days, weeks, months passed.
    Henry learned to put up with pillow fights and strawberry kisses. He learned to ignore the neighbour's cat and to wriggle Christmas ribbons off
his neck. He even learned to eat steamy ham bones.

    And then one day everything changed. Just. Like. That.
    Professor Penrose returned. ,
    The long black limousine came to take Henry back to the professor's fine stone house.
    The Washburn children gathered on their front porch. Tears streamed down their cheeks. "Good-bye, Henry," they sniffled sadly. "Good-bye!"

    That evening, after being groomed by Miss Fifi (who kept sighing over the tangles in his coat) and after being fed two plump, perfectly grilled lamb chops (in his own monogrammed dish), Henry climbed into his furlined basket in front of the fireplace.
    He yawned. He laid his head on his front paws. He closed his eyes.
    But he did not go to sleep.

    Something was wrong. Everything was so quiet, so peaceful. Too quiet. Too peaceful.
    Henry climbed out of his basket. He nudged open the front door and headed down the road to the Washburn house. At first he walked properly, as he had been taught. Then he ran.
    When he arrived, he scratched at the door.

    Mrs Washburn opened it. "Why, it's you, Henry. Welcome home!" Henry dashed up the stairs and into the children's bedroom. It was dark.
    Thwack! A pillow smacked into his face.
    Henry ducked under one of the beds. He smelled the faint scent of strawberry, and as he drifted off to sleep, he was thinking to himself; You have the life, Henry my boy. You have the life.