It was her notion that boys my age needed "a good thrashing" when they misbehaved. These she administered with my belt, often for what seemed to me like small offenses 【小题1】 coming home late for supper because I was having a good time sledding on the hill. A man had a responsibility to meet his social obligations on time. Small as she was, she 【小题2】 still make the snapping belt sting when it lashed across my bared legs, but I hated the indignity of these beatings so much that I refused to satisfy her with 【小题3】 discreetly pretended show of tears.

My failure to cry during her "thrashings" fueled my mother's anger, and I knew it. Tears 【小题4】 (be) evidence that I had learned the lesson. My silent submission to her heaviest blows intensified her fury. If she had been a man she would have been able to make me cry for mercy, but because she was not, and because I did not weep, she struck 【小题5】 (hard).

I knew that faking the tears would gratify her and end the punishment, but I refused. The injustice and humiliation of 【小题6】(beat) hurt so greatly that I deliberately accepted the worst gritted my teeth and, when the belt had fallen four or five times, muttered, "That doesn't hurt me." In these moments 【小题7】 we were very close to bitter hatred of 【小题8】. We were two wills of iron. She was determined to break me: I was just as determined 【小题9】 she would not.

In the end she was the one who always cried, and then, when she had thrown the belt aside and collapsed on a chair weeping quietly, the anger and hatred instantly drained out of me, and 【小题10】 (overcome) with pity and love. I rushed to embrace and kiss her, saying "It's all right, Mama, it's all right. I'll never do it again. I promise, I'll never do it again."