The morning had been a disaster. My tooth was aching, and I'd been in an argument with a friend. Her words still hurt: “The trouble with you is that you won't put yourself in my place. Can't you see things from my point of view?” I shook my head stubbornly—and felt the ache in my tooth. I'd thought I could hold out till my dentist came back from holiday, but the pain was really unbearable. I started calling the dentists in the phone book, but no one could see me immediately. Finally, at about lunchtime, I got lucky.

    “If you come by right now,” the receptionist said, “the dentist will fit you in.”

    I took my purse and keys and rushed to my car. But suddenly I began to doubt about the dentist. What kind of dentist would be so eager to treat someone at such short time? Why wasn't he as busy as the others?

    In the dentist's office, I sat down and looked around. I saw nothing but the bare walls and I became even more worried. The assistant noticed my nervousness and placed her warm hand over my ice-cold one.

    When I told her my fears, she laughed and said, “Don't worry. The dentist is very good.”

    “How long do I have to wait for him?” I asked impatiently.

    “Come on, he is coming. Just lie down and relax. And enjoy the artwork,” the assistant said.

    “The artwork?” I was puzzled.

    The chair went back, suddenly I smiled. There was a beautiful picture, right where I could enjoy it: on the ceiling. How considerate the dentist was! At that moment, I began to understand what my friend meant by her words.

    What a relief！

根据短文内容，选择最佳答案，并将选定答案的字母标号填在题前括号内。

People aren't walking any more—if they can figure out a way to avoid it.

    I felt superior about this matter until  the other day I took my car to mail a small parcel. The journey is a matter of 281 steps. But I used the car. And I wasn't in ay hurry, either, I had merely become one more victim of a national sickness: motorosis.

    It is an illness to which I had thought myself immune（免疫的）, for I was bred in the tradition of going to places on my own two legs. At that time, we regarded 25 miles as good day's walk and the ability to cover such a distance in ten hours as sign of strength and skill. It did not occur to us that walking was a hardship. And the effect was lasting. When I was 45 years old I raced –and beat—a teenage football player the 168 steps up the Stature of Liberty.

Such enterprises today are regarded by many middle-aged persons as bad for the heart. But a well-known British physician, Sir Adolphe Abrhams, pointed out recently that hearts and bodies need proper…… is more likely to have illnesses than one who exercises regularly. And wlaking is an ideal form of exercise— the most familiar and natural of all.

    It was Henry Thoreau who showed mankind the richness of going on foot. The man walking can learn the  trees, flower, insects, birds and animals, the significance of seasons, the very feel of himself as a living creature in a living world, He cannot learn in a car.

    The car is a convenient means of transport, but we have made it our way of life. Many people don't dare to approach Nature any more; to them the world they were born to enjoy is all threat. To them security is a steel river thundering on a concrete road. And much of their thinking takes place while waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

    I say that the green of forests is the mind's best light. And none but the man on foot can evaluate what is basic and everlasting.

    Booking a theatre

    These locations have theatres available for rental:

    Fairview                • Palmerston                • York Woods

    Priority Bookings

    Each June, theatre booking requests for dates in the following calendar year (January to December) are accepted.

    For more information call the Room Booking Unit at 416-397-5969.

    Regular Bookings

    For people who didn't make a booking request in June, call the Room Booking Unit at 416-397-5969 to check for remaining dates.

    Completing a Booking

    Once the library receives a request, staff will check the availability and place a tentative booking for you. You will then receive a contract that you must return with payment within 10 calendar days of the tentative boding and with a minimum of two months before the first booking to confirm the booking.

    Payment

    Payment for the first booking and any bookings in the current month is due when you return the signed contract. If you have booked for multiple months, payments for those months are due at the beginning of each month.

    It seemed like a typical November day, a month after my grandmother had passed away. I was frustrated by everything that was going on around me.

    I was mad and confused about everyone especially when I saw a young girl walking through the store holding her grandmother's hand. The little girl was begging her grandmother for ice cream just like I used to when I was young. I was jealous of the little girl, because she had something I didn't have anymore — a grandmother by her side.

    I had to force myself to ignore the little girl. She was just too happy for me and that was unacceptable at that time in my world.

    I went to the cash register to pay for my things. It was then that my anger quickly shifted from the little girl to the cashier. She took my things to another register. When the cashier gave me my change I didn't say thank you. I simply took my change and left.

    Feeling tired and hopeless, I began walking to my car. As I stood in a public parking lot a million questions formed in my mind. Why did this happen to me? Aren't we supposed to get signs from the people that passed on? Why didn't I feel her presence anymore?

Suddenly, a woman driving right by my side rolled down her window. "Excuse me, excuse me, excuse me," she said loudly. Thinking she was going to ask for my parking spot, I simply pointed to my car. "No, excuse me," she said again.

Then I felt I had no choice but to see what this annoying lady wanted. She reached to the very bottom of her bag and handed me a three-page booklet. "It looks like that you need this," she said calmly with a smile on her face.

I looked down at the used booklet and there were some big bold letters on the front cover reading, "What Hope for Dead Loved Ones?" By the time I looked up she had gone.

    I felt a sense of relaxation as I read the first page. It explained how people pass on and that their spirit remains with us. It was the first time since my grandmother passed away that I had felt her with me. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but I knew that I finally felt happiness from a stranger.

    With their furry round heads and big black eyes, Zhongzhong and Huahua look just the same as any other monkey. But they happen to be the world's first cloned (克隆的) monkeys.

    Years ago, scientists used cloning techniques to produce Dolly, the world's first cloned mammal (哺乳动物).They now used the same technique to produce the monkeys in China.

    In animal cloning, animals are produced in a lab by using DNA that is taken from the cells (细胞) of a naturally-born animal. To clone Zhongzhong and Huahua, scientists from the Chinese Academy of Sciences (CAS.中国科学院) first removed the nucleus (细胞核) from a monkey's egg cell (卵细胞). They then put another nucleus taken from the monkey's body cells into the egg cell. The newly-formed egg was put into the womb (子宫) of a female monkey. Finally, Zhongzhong and Huahua were born.

    The cloning process is hard, especially removing nucleus. It needs to be done in a fast and precise (精确的) way. The faster you do it, the less damage is done to the egg, according to CAS. Scientist Liu Zhen spent three years practicing removing the nucleus.

    Unlike common monkeys, cloned monkeys have the same DNA as each other. When doing experiments on them, scientists can easily know that certain results are caused by different treatments, rather than different genes.

    According to Sun Qiang from CAS, most drug trials (药物试验) are done on lab mice. However, drugs that work on mice might not work on humans. The two species are very different.

    "Monkeys and humans are much closely related and testing on monkeys is supposed to be as effective (有效的) as testing on humans," Sun added.

    A few weeks ago, a 71-year-old man pulled his car to the roadside in Northwest Portland and stopped. He rolled down the window, turned off the engine and stared at a house.

    The place, distinguished by three gables, is partially hidden by hedges and trees. Most people who pass by would never notice it. And if they did give it a glance, they'd probably think it's a nice house in a nice neighborhood. Nothing more.

    The house, in the 2500 block of Northwest Westover Road, is known as the Bessie & Louis Tarpley House. Built in 1907, it's listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

    The current owner is Barbee Lyon, 79.

    He and his first wife took possession in 1975. When they divorced, he bought out her share.

    A retired lawyer, Lyon learned Louis Tarpley, the home's first owner, had also been a Portland lawyer. Setbacks in Tarpley's life led to the house auction(拍卖) in the late 1920s.

    "I'm only the fifth owner of the home," Lyon said.

    A previous owner was Frank Masco.

    He and his wife, Esther, and their nine children had lived across town in a tiny house needing constant repairs. In the mid-1950s, the elder Masco wanted to move to a bigger house and one closer to work. A docker (码头工人), he was on-call 24 hours a day and had to quickly get to the Willamette River docks.

    He found a home on Westover Road. At the time, many people wanted to live in new construction in the suburbs. The Westover house was offered at a deep discount.

    And later the family moved on several times, finally living in Vancouver.

    One Sunday in July 2019, Charley Masco drove to Portland for an appointment at a computer store. When it ended, he traveled the familiar route to Westover Road, pulled over and looked at that home.

    He decided to do something bold. He got out of his car and walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. He waited. No response. Nervous, he thought it was a mistake to do this and considered turning around and walking back to his car.

Barbee Lyon opened the door and saw a stranger.

    "I'm not selling anything," Masco said quickly. "I just want you to know I once lived here."

    Lyon opened the door wide.

    "Come in."

    And for the first time since 1966, Masco stepped into his childhood home.

    Every room looked as Masco had remembered it: The built-in china hutch in the dining room, the hanging lights above the table and, in the kitchen, a massive wood-burning stove where his mother used to cook family meals. It was as if he had walked into his own museum.

    Lyon told Masco he'd never done major structural remodeling, which meant Masco knew his way around the home.

    It was as if he had never left.

    There, on the top floor, was the window he and his siblings quietly opened to sneak out at night and return before their parents knew they were gone. The loft where friends daydreamed about the future. The living room – no TV ever allowed – where the family gathered to share music, play cards or just talk with each other.

    Then they all walked to the basement.

    In the far corner, Masco saw his father's old wooden workbench. And above it, baby food jars. Masco had forgotten about them.

    He explained that his father had nailed lids from the jars to a rafter, filling the glass with different size screws, nuts and bolts, and then screwing the jars back into the lids to give him easy access while working.

    Masco thought about his father, his mother and three of his siblings who have died. He thought about his father, tinkering in the basement, while his mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner.

    He thought about the 71-year-old man he was and the boy he had once been.

    Kruse, Lyon's wife, reached up and unscrewed a jar. She handed it to Masco, believing it belonged to this stranger.

    Masco thanked her.

    He clutched the small bottle to his chest.

    "My dad," he said quietly. "This is my dad."