Question 1: Finding Information Practice Questions

Question 1

4 marks

This extract is from the opening of a novel. Priya, who is nineteen, is starting an early-morning shift at a motorway service station.

1At ten to five the service station was the only lit thing for miles.

Priya parked at the far edge of the staff car park, where the tarmac

gave way to a strip of frozen grass, and sat for a moment with the

engine running and her hands pressed flat against the heater vents. Her

5uniform fleece still smelled of yesterday's chip fryer. On the motorway

beyond the fence a lorry went past with its lights on full, then

another, then nothing.

Inside, the main hall had the stunned look of a room that never quite

slept. The fruit machines blinked at nobody. A cleaner she didn't know

10was dragging a mop in slow figures of eight across the floor by the

toilets, and he lifted one hand to her without looking up. Priya keyed

in her code at the staff door. It failed twice. On the third try the

lock gave its sour little buzz and let her through, as if it had been

considering the matter.

15Marek was already in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up, cracking eggs

one-handed into a steel bowl. 'You're late,' he said, though she wasn't,

and he was smiling.

Original passage.

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 14.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Where did Priya park?

A Next to the main entrance
B At the far edge of the staff car park
C Beside the motorway fence

/ 1

(1.2)

Why did Priya press her hands against the heater vents?

A To warm them up
B To dry them
C To check the heater was working

/ 1

(1.3)

How did the cleaner greet Priya?

A He said good morning
B He raised a hand without looking up
C He ignored her

/ 1

(1.4)

What happened the first time Priya entered her code?

A The door opened at once
B It did not work
C Marek opened the door for her

/ 1

Question 2

4 marks

This extract is from the opening of a novel. The narrator, Danny, is twelve and is spending the summer holidays with his grandmother.

1Nan's allotment was the last plot before the railway line, and she was

proud of that, as though she had won it in a fight. Every morning that

summer we walked there along the canal, Nan in front with her flask and

her folding chair, me behind with the watering cans knocking against my

5knees. She did not believe in talking before nine. She believed in tea,

and runner beans, and in leaving slugs out on the path for the thrush to

find.

The shed was older than my mother. Inside, it smelled of creosote and

damp newspaper, and the tools hung on nails in an order that only Nan

10understood. I was allowed to touch the trowel and the small fork. The

long-handled spade, which had been Grandad's, stayed where it was.

It was on the fourth morning that we found the gate standing open and

the sweetcorn trampled flat.

Original passage.

Glossary

creosote: a strong-smelling oil painted on wooden sheds and fences to protect them

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 11.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Where was Nan's allotment?

A Beside the canal
B Next to the railway line
C Behind Nan's house

/ 1

(1.2)

What did Danny carry on the walk to the allotment?

A A flask
B A folding chair
C The watering cans

/ 1

(1.3)

What did Nan do with slugs?

A She killed them with salt
B She left them out for a bird to eat
C She moved them to another plot

/ 1

(1.4)

Which tool was Danny not allowed to touch?

A The trowel
B The small fork
C The long-handled spade

/ 1

Question 3

4 marks

This extract is from a short story. A young captain has just taken command of a sailing ship, anchored at night off the coast of Siam (now Thailand). He does not yet know the ship or its crew. Unable to sleep, he has sent his officers to bed and is keeping watch on deck alone, and he has just reassured himself that the voyage ahead is unlikely to hold any surprises.

1Arrived at that comforting conclusion, I bethought myself of a cigar and

went below to get it. All was still down there. Everybody at the after

end of the ship was sleeping profoundly. I came out again on the

quarter-deck, agreeably at ease in my sleeping suit on that warm

5breathless night, barefooted, a glowing cigar in my teeth, and, going

forward, I was met by the profound silence of the fore end of the ship.

Only as I passed the door of the forecastle, I heard a deep, quiet,

trustful sigh of some sleeper inside.

The riding light in the forerigging burned with a clear, untroubled, as

10if symbolic, flame, confident and bright in the mysterious shades of the

night. Passing on my way aft along the other side of the ship, I

observed that the rope side ladder, put over, no doubt, for the master

of the tug when he came to fetch away our letters, had not been hauled

in as it should have been. I became annoyed at this, for exactitude in

15some small matters is the very soul of discipline.

Now a side ladder of that sort is a light affair and comes in easily,

yet my vigorous tug, which should have brought it flying on board,

merely recoiled upon my body in a totally unexpected jerk. What the

devil!... In the end, of course, I put my head over the rail.

20The side of the ship made an opaque belt of shadow on the darkling

glassy shimmer of the sea. But I saw at once something elongated and

pale floating very close to the ladder. Before I could form a guess a

faint flash of phosphorescent light, which seemed to issue suddenly from

the naked body of a man, flickered in the sleeping water with the

25elusive, silent play of summer lightning in a night sky. With a gasp I

saw revealed to my stare a pair of feet, the long legs, a broad livid

back immersed right up to the neck in a greenish cadaverous glow. One

hand, awash, clutched the bottom rung of the ladder. He was complete but

for the head. A headless corpse! The cigar dropped out of my gaping

30mouth with a tiny plop and a short hiss quite audible in the absolute

stillness of all things under heaven. At that I suppose he raised up his

face, a dimly pale oval in the shadow of the ship’s side.

As he hung by the ladder, like a resting swimmer, the sea lightning

played about his limbs at every stir; and he appeared in it ghastly,

35silvery, fishlike. He remained as mute as a fish, too. He made no motion

to get out of the water, either.

“What’s the matter?” I asked in my ordinary tone, speaking down to the

face upturned exactly under mine.

“Cramp,” it answered, no louder. Then slightly anxious, “I say, no need

40to call anyone.”

“I was not going to,” I said.

“Are you alone on deck?”

“Yes.”

“I suppose your captain’s turned in?”

45“I am sure he isn’t,” I said.

“Look here, my man. Could you call him out quietly?”

I thought the time had come to declare myself.

“I am the captain.”

I heard a “By Jove!” whispered at the level of the water.

50“My name’s Leggatt.”

The voice was calm and resolute. A good voice.

A mysterious communication was established already between us two—in the

face of that silent, darkened tropical sea. The man in the water began

suddenly to climb up the ladder, and I hastened away from the rail to

55fetch some clothes.

From “The Secret Sharer” by Joseph Conrad (1910).

Glossary

after end: the back of the ship
quarter-deck: the raised deck at the back of the ship, where the captain and officers keep watch
fore end: the front of the ship
forecastle: the crew’s sleeping quarters at the front of the ship
riding light: a lamp hung on a ship at anchor so that other ships can see it
forerigging: the ropes that support the front mast
aft: towards the back of the ship
rope side ladder: a ladder made of rope, hung over the side of the ship
tug: a small, powerful boat used to tow ships
exactitude: doing things exactly right
recoiled: sprang back
opaque: dark, not letting light through
darkling: growing dark
phosphorescent: glowing faintly; here, the light given off by tiny sea creatures when the water moves
elusive: hard to catch or pin down
livid: a deathly, bluish-grey colour
cadaverous: like a dead body
awash: covered with water
rung: one of the steps of a ladder
sea lightning: the glowing light in the water described earlier
mute: silent
turned in: gone to bed
By Jove!: an old-fashioned exclamation of surprise
resolute: firm and determined

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 8.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Why did the narrator go below?

A To check on the crew
B To get a cigar
C To fetch his coat

/ 1

(1.2)

What was everybody at the after end of the ship doing?

A Sleeping
B Keeping watch
C Talking quietly

/ 1

(1.3)

What was the narrator wearing when he came back on deck?

A His captain’s uniform
B Boots and a coat
C A sleeping suit

/ 1

(1.4)

What did the narrator hear as he passed the door of the forecastle?

A Someone snoring loudly
B A sleeper sighing
C Footsteps on the deck

/ 1

Question 4

4 marks

This extract is from a short story. Mr and Mrs White live with their grown-up son, Herbert, in a house some way out of town. The night before, a visiting soldier let them have a dried monkey’s paw which, he said, could grant three wishes, and he warned them not to use it. Half as a joke, Mr White wished for two hundred pounds, and he was frightened when the paw seemed to move in his hand.

1In the brightness of the wintry sun next morning as it streamed over the

breakfast table he laughed at his fears. There was an air of prosaic

wholesomeness about the room which it had lacked on the previous night,

and the dirty, shrivelled little paw was pitched on the sideboard with a

5carelessness which betokened no great belief in its virtues.

“I suppose all old soldiers are the same,” said Mrs. White. “How could

wishes be granted in these days? And if they could, how could two hundred

pounds hurt you, father?”

“Might drop on his head from the sky,” said the frivolous Herbert.

10“Well, don’t break into the money before I come back,” said Herbert as he

rose from the table. “I’m afraid it’ll turn you into a mean, avaricious

man, and we shall have to disown you.”

His mother laughed, and following him to the door, watched him down the

road; and returning to the breakfast table, was very happy at the expense

15of her husband’s credulity.

She was watching the mysterious movements of a man outside, who, peering

in an undecided fashion at the house, appeared to be trying to make up

his mind to enter. In mental connection with the two hundred pounds, she

noticed that the stranger was well dressed, and wore a silk hat of glossy

20newness. Three times he paused at the gate, and then walked on again. The

fourth time he stood with his hand upon it, and then with sudden

resolution flung it open and walked up the path.

She brought the stranger, who seemed ill at ease, into the room.

“I—was asked to call,” he said at last, and stooped and picked a piece of

25cotton from his trousers. “I come from ‘Maw and Meggins.’”

The old lady started. “Is anything the matter?” she asked, breathlessly.

“Has anything happened to Herbert? What is it? What is it?”

Her husband interposed. “There, there, mother,” he said, hastily. “Sit

down, and don’t jump to conclusions. You’ve not brought bad news, I’m

30sure, sir;” and he eyed the other wistfully.

“I’m sorry—” began the visitor.

“Is he hurt?” demanded the mother, wildly.

The visitor bowed in assent. “Badly hurt,” he said, quietly, “but he is

not in any pain.”

35“Oh, thank God!” said the old woman, clasping her hands. “Thank God for

that! Thank—”

She broke off suddenly as the sinister meaning of the assurance dawned

upon her and she saw the awful confirmation of her fears in the other’s

averted face. She caught her breath, and turning to her slower-witted

40husband, laid her trembling old hand upon his. There was a long silence.

“He was caught in the machinery,” said the visitor at length in a low

voice.

“Caught in the machinery,” repeated Mr. White, in a dazed fashion, “yes.”

“He was the only one left to us,” he said, turning gently to the visitor.

45“It is hard.”

“I was to say that ‘Maw and Meggins’ disclaim all responsibility,”

continued the other. “They admit no liability at all, but in

consideration of your son’s services, they wish to present you with a

certain sum as compensation.”

50Mr. White dropped his wife’s hand, and rising to his feet, gazed with a

look of horror at his visitor. His dry lips shaped the words, “How much?”

“Two hundred pounds,” was the answer.

Unconscious of his wife’s shriek, the old man smiled faintly, put out his

hands like a sightless man, and dropped, a senseless heap, to the floor.

From "The Monkey’s Paw" by W. W. Jacobs (1902).

Glossary

prosaic: ordinary and everyday
betokened: showed, was a sign of
avaricious: greedy for money
credulity: being too ready to believe things
‘Maw and Meggins’: the name of a firm (a company)
interposed: broke in
wistfully: with sad, hopeful longing
assurance: a comforting promise
disclaim all responsibility: say that something was not their fault
liability: legal responsibility

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 9.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

When does this part of the story take place?

A Late the same night
B The next morning
C A week later

/ 1

(1.2)

How does Mr White feel about his fears now?

A He laughs at them
B He is still frightened
C He is ashamed of them

/ 1

(1.3)

Where is the monkey’s paw?

A On the breakfast table
B In Mr White’s pocket
C On the sideboard

/ 1

(1.4)

According to Mrs White, who are all the same?

A Old soldiers
B Fortune-tellers
C Old men

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the opening of a short story. A man is travelling alone through the Yukon, in the far north-west of Canada, in the middle of winter.

1Day had broken cold and grey, exceedingly cold and grey, when the man

turned aside from the main Yukon trail and climbed the high earth-bank,

where a dim and little-travelled trail led eastward through the fat

spruce timberland. It was a steep bank, and he paused for breath at the

5top, excusing the act to himself by looking at his watch. It was nine

o’clock. There was no sun nor hint of sun, though there was not a cloud

in the sky. It was a clear day, and yet there seemed an intangible pall

over the face of things, a subtle gloom that made the day dark, and that

was due to the absence of sun. This fact did not worry the man. He was

10used to the lack of sun. It had been days since he had seen the sun, and

he knew that a few more days must pass before that cheerful orb, due

south, would just peep above the sky-line and dip immediately from view.

From "To Build a Fire" by Jack London (1908).

Glossary

spruce timberland: a forest of spruce, a kind of evergreen tree
intangible: impossible to touch or pin down
orb: a sphere; here, the sun

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 12.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Which way did the little-travelled trail lead?

A East, through a forest
B North, along the frozen river
C South, towards the coast

/ 1

(1.2)

Why did the man stop at the top of the bank?

A To check the time
B To get his breath back
C To look for the sun

/ 1

(1.3)

What was the sky like?

A Cloudy and dark
B Clear, but gloomy
C Bright and sunny

/ 1

(1.4)

How did the man feel about the lack of sun?

A It did not worry him
B It made him uneasy
C He was desperate to see it again

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the opening of a short story set in a street in Dublin. The narrator looks back on his childhood.

1North Richmond Street, being blind, was a quiet street except at the

hour when the Christian Brothers’ School set the boys free. An

uninhabited house of two storeys stood at the blind end, detached from

its neighbours in a square ground. The other houses of the street,

5conscious of decent lives within them, gazed at one another with brown

imperturbable faces.

The former tenant of our house, a priest, had died in the back

drawing-room. Air, musty from having been long enclosed, hung in all the

rooms, and the waste room behind the kitchen was littered with old

10useless papers. Among these I found a few paper-covered books, the pages

of which were curled and damp: The Abbot, by Walter Scott, The Devout

Communicant and The Memoirs of Vidocq. I liked the last best because

its leaves were yellow. The wild garden behind the house contained a

central apple-tree and a few straggling bushes under one of which I

15found the late tenant’s rusty bicycle-pump. He had been a very

charitable priest; in his will he had left all his money to institutions

and the furniture of his house to his sister.

From "Araby" in Dubliners by James Joyce (1914).

Glossary

blind: closed at one end; a dead end
imperturbable: calm and not easily disturbed
drawing-room: a sitting room
The Abbot, The Devout Communicant, The Memoirs of Vidocq: titles of books

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 17.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

When was North Richmond Street noisy?

A When the school let the boys out
B In the evenings
C When the priest died

/ 1

(1.2)

What stood at the blind end of the street?

A The school
B An empty house
C A church

/ 1

(1.3)

Why did the narrator like The Memoirs of Vidocq best?

A It had the most exciting story
B Its pages were yellow
C It was written by Walter Scott

/ 1

(1.4)

Who was left the priest's furniture?

A Charities and institutions
B His sister
C The narrator's family

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the opening of a novel, set in London in an imagined future. Winston Smith is arriving home at the block of flats where he lives.

1It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking

thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort

to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of

Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty

5dust from entering along with him.

The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a

coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the

wall. It depicted simply an enormous face, more than a metre wide: the

face of a man of about forty-five, with a heavy black moustache and

10ruggedly handsome features. Winston made for the stairs. It was no use

trying the lift. Even at the best of times it was seldom working, and at

present the electric current was cut off during daylight hours. The flat

was seven flights up, and Winston, who was thirty-nine and had a

varicose ulcer above his right ankle, went slowly, resting several times

15on the way. On each landing, opposite the lift-shaft, the poster with

the enormous face gazed from the wall. It was one of those pictures

which are so contrived that the eyes follow you about when you move.

BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption beneath it ran.

Inside the flat a fruity voice was reading out a list of figures which

20had something to do with the production of pig-iron. The voice came from

an oblong metal plaque like a dulled mirror which formed part of the

surface of the right-hand wall. Winston turned a switch and the voice

sank somewhat, though the words were still distinguishable. The

instrument (the telescreen, it was called) could be dimmed, but there

25was no way of shutting it off completely. He moved over to the window: a

smallish, frail figure, the meagreness of his body merely emphasized by

the blue overalls which were the uniform of the party.

Outside, even through the shut window-pane, the world looked cold. Down

in the street little eddies of wind were whirling dust and torn paper

30into spirals, and though the sun was shining and the sky a harsh blue,

there seemed to be no colour in anything, except the posters that were

plastered everywhere. The black-moustachio’d face gazed down from every

commanding corner. There was one on the house-front immediately

opposite. BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, the caption said, while the dark

35eyes looked deep into Winston’s own. In the far distance a helicopter

skimmed down between the roofs, hovered for an instant like a

bluebottle, and darted away again with a curving flight. It was the

police patrol, snooping into people’s windows. The patrols did not

matter, however. Only the Thought Police mattered.

40Behind Winston’s back the voice from the telescreen was still babbling

away about pig-iron and the overfulfilment of the Ninth Three-Year Plan.

The telescreen received and transmitted simultaneously. Any sound that

Winston made, above the level of a very low whisper, would be picked up

by it, moreover, so long as he remained within the field of vision which

45the metal plaque commanded, he could be seen as well as heard. There was

of course no way of knowing whether you were being watched at any given

moment. How often, or on what system, the Thought Police plugged in on

any individual wire was guesswork. It was even conceivable that they

watched everybody all the time. But at any rate they could plug in your

50wire whenever they wanted to. You had to live—did live, from habit that

became instinct—in the assumption that every sound you made was

overheard, and, except in darkness, every movement scrutinized.

Winston kept his back turned to the telescreen. It was safer; though, as

he well knew, even a back can be revealing.

From Nineteen Eighty-Four by George Orwell (1949).

Glossary

varicose ulcer: a painful sore on the leg caused by swollen veins
pig-iron: crude iron, as it first comes out of a furnace
meagreness: thinness
eddies: small swirling currents of air
moustachio’d: with a large moustache
bluebottle: a large fly
overfulfilment: producing more than the target
transmitted: sent out (pictures and sound)
scrutinized: examined closely

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 10.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

What was the weather like?

A Bright and cold
B Grey and wet
C Warm but windy

/ 1

(1.2)

Why did Winston have his chin nuzzled into his breast?

A To avoid being recognised
B To escape the wind
C To keep the dust out of his eyes

/ 1

(1.3)

What did the hallway smell of?

A Damp and smoke
B Boiled cabbage and old rag mats
C Fresh paint

/ 1

(1.4)

Which of these is true about the poster in the hallway?

A It had been tacked up at one end of the hallway
B It was more than a metre tall
C It showed a man with a thin moustache

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the opening of a novel, set in London shortly before the First World War. Richard Hannay has made his fortune in southern Africa and has come to live in Britain.

1I returned from the City about three o’clock on that May afternoon

pretty well disgusted with life. I had been three months in the Old

Country, and was fed up with it. The weather made me liverish, the talk

of the ordinary Englishman made me sick. I couldn’t get enough exercise,

5and the amusements of London seemed as flat as soda-water that has been

standing in the sun. “Richard Hannay,” I kept telling myself, “you have

got into the wrong ditch, my friend, and you had better climb out.”

But from the first I was disappointed with it. In about a week I was

tired of seeing sights, and in less than a month I had had enough of

10restaurants and theatres and race-meetings. I had no real pal to go

about with, which probably explains things. Here was I, thirty-seven

years old, sound in wind and limb, with enough money to have a good

time, yawning my head off all day. I had just about settled to clear out

and get back to the veld, for I was the best bored man in the United

15Kingdom.

About six o’clock I went home, dressed, dined at the Café Royal, and

turned into a music-hall. It was a silly show, all capering women and

monkey-faced men, and I did not stay long. The night was fine and clear

as I walked back to the flat I had hired near Portland Place. The crowd

20surged past me on the pavements, busy and chattering, and I envied the

people for having something to do. I gave half-a-crown to a beggar

because I saw him yawn; he was a fellow-sufferer. At Oxford Circus I

looked up into the spring sky and I made a vow. I would give the Old

Country another day to fit me into something; if nothing happened, I

25would take the next boat for the Cape.

I was just fitting my key into the door when I noticed a man at my

elbow. I had not seen him approach, and the sudden appearance made me

start. He was a slim man, with a short brown beard and small, gimlety

blue eyes. I recognized him as the occupant of a flat on the top floor,

30with whom I had passed the time of day on the stairs.

“Can I speak to you?” he said. “May I come in for a minute?” He was

steadying his voice with an effort, and his hand was pawing my arm.

I got my door open and motioned him in. No sooner was he over the

threshold than he made a dash for my back room, where I used to smoke

35and write my letters. Then he bolted back.

“Is the door locked?” he asked feverishly, and he fastened the chain

with his own hand.

“I’m very sorry,” he said humbly. “It’s a mighty liberty, but you looked

the kind of man who would understand. I’ve had you in my mind all this

40week when things got troublesome. Say, will you do me a good turn?”

“I’ll listen to you,” I said. “That’s all I’ll promise.” I was getting

worried by the antics of this nervous little chap.

There was a tray of drinks on a table beside him, from which he filled

himself a stiff whisky-and-soda. He drank it off in three gulps, and

45cracked the glass as he set it down.

“Pardon,” he said, “I’m a bit rattled tonight. You see, I happen at this

moment to be dead.”

I sat down in an armchair and lit my pipe.

“What does it feel like?” I asked. I was pretty certain that I had to

50deal with a madman.

A smile flickered over his drawn face. “I’m not mad—yet. Say, sir, I’ve

been watching you, and I reckon you’re a cool customer. I reckon, too,

you’re an honest man, and not afraid of playing a bold hand. I’m going

to confide in you. I need help worse than any man ever needed it, and I

55want to know if I can count you in.”

From The Thirty-Nine Steps by John Buchan (1915).

Glossary

the City: the business and banking district of London
the Old Country: Britain, as people from the colonies called it
liverish: irritable and slightly unwell
sound in wind and limb: fit and healthy
the veld: open grassland in southern Africa
Café Royal: a fashionable London restaurant
music-hall: a theatre showing comic songs, dancing and variety acts
capering: skipping and dancing about
half-a-crown: a silver coin, worth a fair amount at the time
the Cape: Cape Town, in South Africa
gimlety: sharp and piercing (a gimlet is a small tool for boring holes)
a mighty liberty: a great cheek
rattled: shaken and nervous
a cool customer: someone who stays calm under pressure
confide in: tell a secret to

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 9.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

At about what time did the narrator return from the City?

A About three o’clock
B About six o’clock
C About seven o’clock

/ 1

(1.2)

How long had the narrator been in the Old Country?

A Three weeks
B Three months
C A year

/ 1

(1.3)

What did the amusements of London seem like to the narrator?

A Too noisy and crowded
B Flat, like soda-water left standing in the sun
C Too expensive for him to enjoy

/ 1

(1.4)

How long did it take the narrator to grow tired of seeing sights?

A About a day
B About a week
C About three months

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the opening of a short story, set in a coal-mining area of the English Midlands in the early 1900s. A small engine is pulling coal trucks along the railway line late one afternoon, as the light begins to fade.

1The small locomotive engine, Number 4, came clanking, stumbling down

from Selston with seven full waggons. It appeared round the corner with

loud threats of speed, but the colt that it startled from among the

gorse, which still flickered indistinctly in the raw afternoon,

5outdistanced it at a canter. A woman, walking up the railway line to

Underwood, drew back into the hedge, held her basket aside, and watched

the footplate of the engine advancing. The trucks thumped heavily past,

one by one, with slow inevitable movement, as she stood insignificantly

trapped between the jolting black waggons and the hedge; then they

10curved away towards the coppice where the withered oak leaves dropped

noiselessly, while the birds, pulling at the scarlet hips beside the

track, made off into the dusk that had already crept into the spinney.

In the open, the smoke from the engine sank and cleaved to the rough

grass. The fields were dreary and forsaken, and in the marshy strip that

15led to the whimsey, a reedy pit-pond, the fowls had already abandoned

their run among the alders, to roost in the tarred fowl-house. The

pit-bank loomed up beyond the pond, flames like red sores licking its

ashy sides, in the afternoon’s stagnant light. Just beyond rose the

tapering chimneys and the clumsy black headstocks of Brinsley Colliery.

20The two wheels were spinning fast up against the sky, and the

winding-engine rapped out its little spasms. The miners were being

turned up.

Miners, single, trailing and in groups, passed like shadows diverging

home. At the edge of the ribbed level of sidings squat a low cottage,

25three steps down from the cinder track. A large bony vine clutched at

the house, as if to claw down the tiled roof. Beyond, the long garden

sloped down to a bush-covered brook course. Beside the path hung

dishevelled pink chrysanthemums, like pink cloths hung on bushes. A

woman came stooping out of the felt-covered fowl-house, half-way down

30the garden. She closed and padlocked the door, then drew herself erect,

having brushed some bits from her white apron.

She was a tall woman of imperious mien, handsome, with definite black

eyebrows. Her smooth black hair was parted exactly. For a few moments

she stood steadily watching the miners as they passed along the railway:

35then she turned towards the brook course. Her face was calm and set, her

mouth was closed with disillusionment. After a moment she called:

“John!” There was no answer. She waited, and then said distinctly:

“Where are you?”

“Here!” replied a child’s sulky voice from among the bushes. The woman

40looked piercingly through the dusk.

“Are you at that brook?” she asked sternly.

For answer the child showed himself before the raspberry-canes that rose

like whips. He was a small, sturdy boy of five. He stood quite still,

defiantly.

45“Oh!” said the mother, conciliated. “I thought you were down at that wet

brook—and you remember what I told you—”

The boy did not move or answer.

“Come, come on in,” she said more gently, “it’s getting dark. There’s

your grandfather’s engine coming down the line!”

50The lad advanced slowly, with resentful, taciturn movement.

As they went slowly towards the house he tore at the ragged wisps of

chrysanthemums and dropped the petals in handfuls along the path.

“Don’t do that—it does look nasty,” said his mother. He refrained, and

she, suddenly pitiful, broke off a twig with three or four wan flowers

55and held them against her face.

From "Odour of Chrysanthemums" by D. H. Lawrence (1914).

Glossary

waggons: coal trucks (an old spelling of wagons)
gorse: a prickly wild bush
footplate: the platform where the driver stands on a steam engine
coppice, spinney: small woods
hips: the red berries of the wild rose
cleaved: clung
whimsey: an old mine shaft (here, one flooded to make a pond)
pit-bank: a heap of waste from the coal mine
headstocks: the frame above a mine shaft that holds the winding wheels
colliery: a coal mine
winding-engine: the engine that raises and lowers the lift in the mine shaft
turned up: brought up to the surface at the end of their shift
sidings: side tracks where railway trucks are parked
of imperious mien: with a proud, commanding look
disillusionment: the disappointment of someone whose hopes have gone
conciliated: calmed down, won over
taciturn: silent, saying nothing
wan: pale and faded

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 10.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Where was the engine coming from?

A Underwood
B Selston
C Brinsley Colliery

/ 1

(1.2)

What happened to the colt that the engine startled?

A It ran faster than the engine
B It was trapped against the hedge
C It stood still among the gorse

/ 1

(1.3)

What did the woman do as the engine came towards her?

A She waved to the driver
B She dropped her basket
C She drew back into the hedge

/ 1

(1.4)

Which of these is true about the trucks?

A They rushed past at great speed
B They passed heavily, one by one
C They were empty

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is from a short story written in the early twentieth century. It is the morning of a garden party at the Sheridan family’s large house. Laura, one of the daughters of the family, has just finished a telephone call. Jose is her sister; Sadie, Hans and the cook are servants.

1Laura put back the receiver, flung her arms over her head, took a deep

breath, stretched and let them fall. “Huh,” she sighed, and the moment

after the sigh she sat up quickly. She was still, listening. All the

doors in the house seemed to be open. The house was alive with soft,

5quick steps and running voices. The green baize door that led to the

kitchen regions swung open and shut with a muffled thud. And now there

came a long, chuckling absurd sound. It was the heavy piano being moved

on its stiff castors. But the air! If you stopped to notice, was the air

always like this? Little faint winds were playing chase, in at the tops

10of the windows, out at the doors. And there were two tiny spots of sun,

one on the inkpot, one on a silver photograph frame, playing too. It was

quite warm. A warm little silver star. She could have kissed it.

The front door bell pealed, and there sounded the rustle of Sadie’s

print skirt on the stairs.

15There, just inside the door, stood a wide, shallow tray full of pots of

pink lilies. No other kind. Nothing but lilies—canna lilies, big pink

flowers, wide open, radiant, almost frighteningly alive on bright

crimson stems.

“O-oh, Sadie!” said Laura, and the sound was like a little moan. She

20crouched down as if to warm herself at that blaze of lilies; she felt

they were in her fingers, on her lips, growing in her breast.

“Godber’s has come,” announced Sadie, issuing out of the pantry.

That meant the cream puffs had come. Godber’s were famous for their

cream puffs.

25Of course Laura and Jose were far too grown-up to really care about such

things. All the same, they couldn’t help agreeing that the puffs looked

very attractive. Very.

Oh, impossible. Fancy cream puffs so soon after breakfast. The very idea

made one shudder. All the same, two minutes later Jose and Laura were

30licking their fingers with that absorbed inward look that only comes

from whipped cream.

“Let’s go into the garden, out by the back way,” suggested Laura. “I

want to see how the men are getting on with the marquee. They’re such

awfully nice men.”

35But the back door was blocked by cook, Sadie, Godber’s man and Hans.

Something had happened.

“Tuk-tuk-tuk,” clucked cook like an agitated hen. Sadie had her hand

clapped to her cheek as though she had toothache. Hans’s face was

screwed up in the effort to understand. Only Godber’s man seemed to be

40enjoying himself; it was his story.

“What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“There’s been a horrible accident,” said Cook. “A man killed.”

But Godber’s man wasn’t going to have his story snatched from under his

very nose.

45“Know those little cottages just below here, miss?” Know them? Of

course, she knew them. “Well, there’s a young chap living there, name of

Scott, a carter. His horse shied at a traction-engine, corner of Hawke

Street this morning, and he was thrown out on the back of his head.

Killed.”

50“Dead!” Laura stared at Godber’s man.

“Dead when they picked him up,” said Godber’s man with relish. “They

were taking the body home as I come up here.” And he said to the cook,

“He’s left a wife and five little ones.”

From “The Garden Party” by Katherine Mansfield (1922).

Glossary

receiver: the part of a telephone you hold to your ear
baize: a thick woollen cloth; a door covered in green baize separated the family’s rooms from the servants’ kitchen
castors: small wheels fixed to the legs of furniture
print skirt: a skirt made of cheap patterned cotton, worn by a maid
canna lilies: tall plants with large, brightly coloured flowers
radiant: glowing, shining brightly
Godber’s: a shop that made and delivered cakes for parties
marquee: a large tent put up for an outdoor party
carter: a man who drives a horse and cart to carry goods
shied: jumped sideways in fright
traction-engine: a large steam-powered vehicle used for pulling heavy loads
with relish: with obvious enjoyment

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 8.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

What did Laura do straight after she put back the receiver?

A She flung her arms over her head
B She ran out into the garden
C She called for her mother

/ 1

(1.2)

How did Laura sit up after her sigh?

A Slowly
B Quickly
C Lazily

/ 1

(1.3)

What was the house alive with?

A Music from the band
B The ringing of the telephone
C Soft, quick steps and running voices

/ 1

(1.4)

Which of these is true about the green baize door?

A It led to the kitchen regions
B It slammed shut with a loud bang
C It was the only door in the house that was open

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is the ending of a short story. Framton Nuttel, a nervous man who has come to the countryside for a rest cure, is visiting Mrs Sappleton, whom he has never met. While he waits for her to come downstairs, her fifteen-year-old niece points to a large French window, left wide open on an October afternoon, and begins to tell him about a tragedy in her aunt’s life.

1“Out through that window, three years ago to a day, her husband and her

two young brothers went off for their day’s shooting. They never came

back. In crossing the moor to their favourite snipe-shooting ground they

were all three engulfed in a treacherous piece of bog. Their bodies were

5never recovered. That was the dreadful part of it.” Here the child’s

voice lost its self-possessed note and became falteringly human. “Poor

aunt always thinks that they will come back some day, they and the

little brown spaniel that was lost with them, and walk in at that window

just as they used to do. That is why the window is kept open every

10evening till it is quite dusk. Poor dear aunt, she has often told me how

they went out, her husband with his white waterproof coat over his arm,

and Ronnie, her youngest brother, singing ‘Bertie, why do you bound?’ as

he always did to tease her, because she said it got on her nerves. Do

you know, sometimes on still, quiet evenings like this, I almost get a

15creepy feeling that they will all walk in through that window—”

She broke off with a little shudder. It was a relief to Framton when the

aunt bustled into the room with a whirl of apologies for being late in

making her appearance.

“I hope you don’t mind the open window,” said Mrs. Sappleton briskly;

20“my husband and brothers will be home directly from shooting, and they

always come in this way.”

She rattled on cheerfully about the shooting and the scarcity of birds,

and the prospects for duck in the winter. To Framton it was all purely

horrible. He made a desperate but only partially successful effort to

25turn the talk on to a less ghastly topic; he was conscious that his

hostess was giving him only a fragment of her attention, and her eyes

were constantly straying past him to the open window and the lawn

beyond.

“Here they are at last!” she cried.

30Framton shivered slightly and turned towards the niece with a look

intended to convey sympathetic comprehension. The child was staring out

through the open window with dazed horror in her eyes. In a chill shock

of nameless fear Framton swung round in his seat and looked in the same

direction.

35In the deepening twilight three figures were walking across the lawn

towards the window; they all carried guns under their arms, and one of

them was additionally burdened with a white coat hung over his

shoulders. A tired brown spaniel kept close at their heels. Noiselessly

they neared the house, and then a hoarse young voice chanted out of the

40dusk: “I said, Bertie, why do you bound?”

Framton grabbed wildly at his stick and hat; the hall-door, the

gravel-drive, and the front gate were dimly-noted stages in his headlong

retreat.

“Here we are, my dear,” said the bearer of the white mackintosh, coming

45in through the window; “fairly muddy, but most of it’s dry. Who was that

who bolted out as we came up?”

“A most extraordinary man, a Mr. Nuttel,” said Mrs. Sappleton; “could

only talk about his illnesses, and dashed off without a word of good-bye

or apology when you arrived. One would think he had seen a ghost.”

50“I expect it was the spaniel,” said the niece calmly; “he told me he had

a horror of dogs. He was once hunted into a cemetery somewhere on the

banks of the Ganges by a pack of pariah dogs, and had to spend the night

in a newly dug grave with the creatures snarling and grinning and

foaming just above him.”

55Romance at short notice was her speciality.

From “The Open Window” by Saki (1914).

Glossary

snipe: a small wading bird, shot for sport
engulfed: swallowed up
treacherous: dangerous in a hidden way
bog: soft, wet ground that a person can sink into
falteringly: unsteadily, as if close to tears
spaniel: a breed of dog often used in shooting
‘Bertie, why do you bound?’: a teasing line he liked to sing (to bound is to leap about)
bustled: moved in a busy, hurried way
scarcity: shortage
comprehension: understanding
burdened: weighed down
mackintosh: a raincoat
bolted: ran off suddenly
Ganges: a great river in India
pariah dogs: wild stray dogs
Romance: here, making up exciting stories

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 10.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

Why did the husband and the two brothers go out on the day of the accident?

A To go shooting
B To look for the lost spaniel
C To visit friends on the other side of the moor

/ 1

(1.2)

What happened to them on the moor?

A They were caught in a sudden storm
B They sank into a dangerous bog
C They were shot in a hunting accident

/ 1

(1.3)

According to the niece, what does her aunt believe?

A That the bodies will one day be found in the bog
B That the spaniel escaped and is still alive
C That the three men will one day come back through the window

/ 1

(1.4)

When is the window kept open?

A All day and all night
B Only on the anniversary of the accident
C Every evening until it is quite dark

/ 1

Question 0

4 marks

This extract is from the middle of a short story, set high in the Andes mountains of South America. Nunez, a mountain guide, has fallen a great distance down a mountainside during the night but has survived. In the morning he looks for a way out of the gorge where he has landed.

1He took his bearings and turned his face up the gorge, for he saw it

opened out above upon green meadows, among which he now glimpsed quite

distinctly a cluster of stone huts of unfamiliar fashion.

They were very strange to his eyes, and indeed the whole aspect of that

5valley became, as he regarded it, queerer and more unfamiliar. The houses

of the central village were quite unlike the casual and higgledy-piggledy

agglomeration of the mountain villages he knew; they stood in a

continuous row on either side of a central street of astonishing

cleanness; here and there their particoloured facade was pierced by a

10door, and not a solitary window broke their even frontage. They were

particoloured with extraordinary irregularity, smeared with a sort of

plaster that was sometimes grey, sometimes drab, sometimes slate-coloured

or dark brown; and it was the sight of this wild plastering first brought

the word “blind” into the thoughts of the explorer. “The good man who did

15that,” he thought, “must have been as blind as a bat.”

He could now see a number of men and women resting on piled heaps of

grass, as if taking a siesta, in the remoter part of the meadow, and

nearer the village a number of recumbent children, and then nearer at

hand three men carrying pails on yokes along a little path that ran from

20the encircling wall towards the houses. There was something so

reassuringly prosperous and respectable in their bearing that after a

moment’s hesitation Nunez stood forward as conspicuously as possible upon

his rock, and gave vent to a mighty shout that echoed round the valley.

The three men stopped, and moved their heads as though they were looking

25about them. They turned their faces this way and that, and Nunez

gesticulated with freedom. But they did not appear to see him for all his

gestures, and after a time, directing themselves towards the mountains

far away to the right, they shouted as if in answer.

When at last, after much shouting and wrath, Nunez crossed the stream by

30a little bridge, came through a gate in the wall, and approached them, he

was sure that they were blind. The three stood side by side, not looking

at him, but with their ears directed towards him, judging him by his

unfamiliar steps. They stood close together like men a little afraid, and

he could see their eyelids closed and sunken, as though the very balls

35beneath had shrunk away.

But Nunez advanced with the confident steps of a youth who enters upon

life. All the old stories of the lost valley and the Country of the Blind

had come back to his mind, and through his thoughts ran this old proverb,

as if it were a refrain—

40“In the Country of the Blind the One-eyed Man is King.”

And they held Nunez and felt him over, saying no word further until they

had done so.

“A strange creature, Correa,” said the one called Pedro. “Feel the

coarseness of his hair. Like a llama’s hair.”

45Nunez struggled a little under their examination, but they gripped him

firm.

“I can see,” he said.

“See?” said Correa.

“Yes, see,” said Nunez, turning towards him, and stumbled against Pedro’s

50pail.

“His senses are still imperfect,” said the third blind man. “He stumbles,

and talks unmeaning words. Lead him by the hand.”

“As you will,” said Nunez, and was led along, laughing.

It seemed they knew nothing of sight.

55Well, all in good time he would teach them.

From The Country of the Blind by H. G. Wells (1904).

Glossary

gorge: a narrow valley with steep rocky sides
higgledy-piggledy: jumbled and untidy
agglomeration: a mass of things heaped together
particoloured: in several different colours
facade / frontage: the front of a building or a row of buildings
drab: dull, light brownish-grey
siesta: a short sleep in the middle of the day
recumbent: lying down
yokes: wooden bars carried across the shoulders, with a pail hanging from each end
gesticulated: waved his arms and hands about
refrain: a line that is repeated, like the chorus of a song

Read again the first part of the source, from lines 1 to 10.

Answer all parts of this question. Choose one answer for each question.

(1.1)

What did Nunez glimpse among the green meadows?

A A cluster of stone huts
B A herd of llamas
C A crowd of people

/ 1

(1.2)

How were the houses of the central village arranged?

A Scattered untidily about the valley
B In a continuous row on either side of a street
C In a circle around a central square

/ 1

(1.3)

What was the central street like?

A Narrow and muddy
B Crowded with people
C Astonishingly clean

/ 1

(1.4)

Which of these is true about the fronts of the houses?

A Each house had a window beside its door
B There were doors here and there, but no windows
C There were no doors at all

/ 1

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