They were going to Fort Lauderdale — three boys and three girls — and when they boarded the bus, they were carrying sandwiches and wine in paper bags, dreaming of golden beaches and sea tides as the gray, cold spring of New York went behind them.
As the bus passed through New Jersey, they began to notice Vingo. He sat in front of them, completely in silence.
Deep into the night, outside Washington, the bus pulled into Howard Johnson’s, and everybody got off except Vingo. The young people began to wonder about him. When they went back to the bus, one of the girls sat beside him and introduced herself.
“Want some wine?” she said. He smiled and took a swig from the bottle. He thanked her and became silent again. After a while, she went back to the others, and Vingo nodded in sleep.
In the morning, they awoke outside another Howard Johnson’s, and this time Vingo went in. The girl insisted that he join them. He ordered black coffee and some cookies as the young people talked about sleeping on beaches. When they returned to the bus, the girl sat with Vingo again, and after a while, slowly and painfully, he began to tell his story. He had been in prison in New York for the past four years, and now he was going home.
“Are you married?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” she said.
“Well, when I was in prison I wrote to my wife,” he said, “I told her that I was going to be away for a long time, and that if she couldn’t stand it, if the kids kept asking questions, and if it hurt her too much, well, she could jus forget me. I’d understand. Get a new man, I said — she’s a wonderful woman. I told her she didn’t have to write me. And she didn’t. Not for three and a half years.”
“And you’re going home now, not knowing?”
“Yeah. Well, last week, when I was sure the parole (假释) was coming through, I wrote her again. We used to live in Brunswick, just before Jacksonville, and there’s a big oak (橡树) just as you come into town. I told her that if she didn’t have a new man and if she’d take me back, she should put a yellow handkerchief on the tree, and I’d get off and come home. If she didn’t want me, forget it — no handkerchief and I’d go on through.”
“Wow,” the girl exclaimed, “Wow.”
She told the others, and soon all of them were in it, looking at the pictures Vingo showed them of his wife and three children.
Now they were 20 miles from Brunswick, and the young people took over window seats on the right side, waiting for the approach of the great oak. Vingo stopped looking, tightening his face, as if protecting himself against still another disappointment.
Then Brunswick was ten miles, and then five. Then, suddenly, all of the young people were up out of their seats, shouting and crying.
Vingo sat there astonished, looking at the oak. It was covered with yellow handkerchiefs — 20 of them, 30 of them, maybe hundreds, flying in the wind. As the young people shouted, Vingo slowly rose from his seat and made his way to the front of the bus to go home.
At the beginning of the story, the young boys and girls ______.

A．showed a great interest in Vingo	B．didn’t notice Vingo at all
C．wanted to offer help to Vingo	D．didn’t like Vingo at all

The underlined part “Howard Johnson’s” is most probably a(n) ______.

A．bus station

B．apartment

C．hospital

D．restaurant

How did Vingo feel on the way home?

A．Ashamed.

B．Relaxed.

C．Nervous.

D．Disappointed.

The paragraphs following this passage would most probably talk about ______.

A．Vingo’s experience in prison

B．the young people’s travel to Fort Lauderdale

C．Vingo’s three lovely children

D．the dialogue between Vingo and his family