Summary Items Quiz 1 – Outschool

This passage is adapted from Martin Eden by Jack London.

He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life.  As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of her numerous progeny.  The squall of the child went through him like a knife.  He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he breathed, was repulsive and mean.  How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt.  There it was all spiritual.  Here it was all material, and meanly material.

“Come here, Alfred,” he called to the crying child, at the same time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in general.  He put a quarter in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment, soothing his sobs.  “Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.  Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest.”

His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.

“A nickel’d ha’ ben enough,” she said.  “It’s just like you, no idea of the value of money.  The child’ll eat himself sick.”

“That’s all right, sis,” he answered jovially.  “My money’ll take care of itself.  If you weren’t so busy, I’d kiss you good morning.”

He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in her way, he knew, loved him.  But, somehow, she grew less herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling.  It was the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had changed her.  It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

According to the passage, the brother can be described as:

This passage is adapted from Martin Eden by Jack London.

He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life.  As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of her numerous progeny.  The squall of the child went through him like a knife.  He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he breathed, was repulsive and mean.  How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt.  There it was all spiritual.  Here it was all material, and meanly material.

“Come here, Alfred,” he called to the crying child, at the same time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in general.  He put a quarter in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment, soothing his sobs.  “Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.  Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest.”

His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.

“A nickel’d ha’ ben enough,” she said.  “It’s just like you, no idea of the value of money.  The child’ll eat himself sick.”

“That’s all right, sis,” he answered jovially.  “My money’ll take care of itself.  If you weren’t so busy, I’d kiss you good morning.”

He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in her way, he knew, loved him.  But, somehow, she grew less herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling.  It was the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had changed her.  It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

As used in the first sentence, the word jar most nearly means:

This passage is adapted from Martin Eden by Jack London.

He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life.  As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of her numerous progeny.  The squall of the child went through him like a knife.  He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he breathed, was repulsive and mean.  How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt.  There it was all spiritual.  Here it was all material, and meanly material.

“Come here, Alfred,” he called to the crying child, at the same time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in general.  He put a quarter in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment, soothing his sobs.  “Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.  Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest.”

His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.

“A nickel’d ha’ ben enough,” she said.  “It’s just like you, no idea of the value of money.  The child’ll eat himself sick.”

“That’s all right, sis,” he answered jovially.  “My money’ll take care of itself.  If you weren’t so busy, I’d kiss you good morning.”

He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in her way, he knew, loved him.  But, somehow, she grew less herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling.  It was the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had changed her.  It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

It can reasonably be inferred that the sister:

This passage is adapted from Martin Eden by Jack London.

He awoke next morning from rosy scenes of dream to a steamy atmosphere that smelled of soapsuds and dirty clothes, and that was vibrant with the jar and jangle of tormented life.  As he came out of his room he heard the slosh of water, a sharp exclamation, and a resounding smack as his sister visited her irritation upon one of her numerous progeny.  The squall of the child went through him like a knife.  He was aware that the whole thing, the very air he breathed, was repulsive and mean.  How different, he thought, from the atmosphere of beauty and repose of the house wherein Ruth dwelt.  There it was all spiritual.  Here it was all material, and meanly material.

“Come here, Alfred,” he called to the crying child, at the same time thrusting his hand into his trousers pocket, where he carried his money loose in the same large way that he lived life in general.  He put a quarter in the youngster’s hand and held him in his arms a moment, soothing his sobs.  “Now run along and get some candy, and don’t forget to give some to your brothers and sisters.  Be sure and get the kind that lasts longest.”

His sister lifted a flushed face from the wash-tub and looked at him.

“A nickel’d ha’ ben enough,” she said.  “It’s just like you, no idea of the value of money.  The child’ll eat himself sick.”

“That’s all right, sis,” he answered jovially.  “My money’ll take care of itself.  If you weren’t so busy, I’d kiss you good morning.”

He wanted to be affectionate to this sister, who was good, and who, in her way, he knew, loved him.  But, somehow, she grew less herself as the years went by, and more and more baffling.  It was the hard work, the many children, and the nagging of her husband, he decided, that had changed her.  It came to him, in a flash of fancy, that her nature seemed taking on the attributes of stale vegetables, smelly soapsuds, and of the greasy dimes, nickels, and quarters she took in over the counter of the store.

The main purpose of the last paragraph is to show that the: