Grade 3 Listening Assessment 7 - Chapter 12 at the Club - PDF

# GRADE 3 - LISTENING ASSESSMENT 7 - CHAPTER 12 - AT THE CLUB ## PART A At five o'clock when he was ready to start for the club, Swaminathan's father felt sorry for having worried his son all the afternoon. 'Would you like to come with me to the club, boy?' he asked when he saw Swaminathan sulking...

# GRADE 3 - LISTENING ASSESSMENT 7 - CHAPTER 12 - AT THE CLUB ## PART A At five o'clock when he was ready to start for the club, Swaminathan's father felt sorry for having worried his son all the afternoon. 'Would you like to come with me to the club, boy?' he asked when he saw Swaminathan sulking behind a pillar with a woebegone face. Swaminathan answered by disappearing for a minute and reappearing dressed in his coat and cap. Father surveyed him from head to foot and remarked: 'Why can't you be a little more tidy?' Swaminathan writhed awkwardly. 'Lakshmi,' father called, and said to mother when she came: 'there must be a clean dress for the boy in the box. Give him something clean.' 'Please don't worry about it now. He is all right. Who is to open the box? The keys are somewhere. ... I have just mixed milk for the baby' said mother. 'What has happened to all his dresses?' 'What dresses? You haven't bought a square inch of cloth since last summer.' 'What do you mean? What has happened to all the pieces of twill I bought a few months ago?' he demanded vaguely, making a mental note at the same time, to take the boy to the tailor on Wednesday evening. Swaminathan was relieved to find his mother reluctant to get him a fresh dress, since he had an obscure dread that his father would leave him behind and go away if he went in to change. A car hooted in front of the house. Father snatched his tennis racket from a table and rushed out, followed by Swaminathan. A gentleman, wearing a blazer that appealed to Swaminathan, sat at the wheel, and said: 'Good evening,' with a grin. Swaminathan was at first afraid that this person might refuse to take him in the car. But his fears were dispelled by the gentleman's saying amiably: 'Hallo, Srinivasan, are you bringing your boy to the club? Right 0!' Swaminathan sat in the back seat while his father and his friend occupied the front. The car whizzed along. Swaminathan was elated and wished that some of his friends could see him then. The car slid into a gate and came to a stop amidst half a dozen other cars. He watched his father playing tennis, and came to the conclusion that he was the best player in all the three courts that were laid side by side. Swaminathan found that whenever his father hit the ball, his opponents were unable to receive it and so let it go and strike the screen. He also found that the picker's life was one of grave risks. Swaminathan fell into a pleasant state of mind. The very fact that he was allowed to be present there and watch the play gave him a sense of importance. He would have something to say to his friends tomorrow. He slowly moved and stood near the screen behind his father. Before stationing himself there, he wondered for a moment if the little fellow in khaki dress might not object. But the little fellow was busy picking up balls and throwing them at the players. Swaminathan stayed there for about ten minutes. His father's actions were clearer to watch from behind, and the twang of his racket when hitting the ball was very pleasing to the ear. For a change Swaminathan stood looking at the boy in khaki dress. As he gazed, his expression changed. He blinked fast as if he disbelieved his eyes. It was the coachman's son, only slightly transformed by the khaki dress! Now the boy had turned and seen him. He grinned maliciously and hastily took out of his pocket a penknife, and held it up. Swaminathan was seized with cold fear. He moved away fast, unobtrusively, to his former place, which was at a safe distance from his enemy. After the set when his father walked towards the building, Swaminathan took care to walk a little in front of him and not behind, as he feared that he might get a stab any minute in his back. 'Swami, don't go in front. You are getting between my legs.' Swaminathan obeyed with a reluctant heart. He kept shooting glances sideways and behind. He stooped and picked up a stone, a sharp stone, and held it ready for use if any emergency should arise. The distance from the tennis court to the building was about a dozen yards, but to Swaminathan it seemed to be a mile and a half. He felt safe when he sat in a chair beside his father in the card-room. A thick cloud of smoke floated in the air. Father was shuffling and throwing cards with great zest. This was the safest place on earth. There was father and any number of his friends, and let the coachman's son try a hand if he liked. A little later Swaminathan looked out of the window and felt disturbed at the sight of the stars. It would be darker still by the time the card game was finished and father rose to go home. ## PART B An hour later father rose from the table. Swaminathan was in a highly nervous state when he got down the last steps of the building. There were unknown dangers lurking in the darkness around. He was no doubt secure between father and his friend. That thought was encouraging. But Swaminathan felt at the same time that it would have been better if all the persons in the card-room had escorted him to the car. He needed all the guarding he could get, and some more. Probably by this time the boy had gone out and brought a huge gang of assassins and was waiting for him. He could not walk in front as, in addition to getting between his father's legs, he had no idea which way they had to go for the car. Following his father was out of the question, as he might not reach the car at all. He walked in a peculiar sidestep which enabled him to see before him and behind him simultaneously. The distance was interminable. He decided to explain the danger to father and seek his protection. 'Father.' 'Well, boy?' Swaminathan suddenly decided that his father had better not know anything about the coachman's son, however serious the situation might be. 'What do you want, boy?' father asked again. 'Father, are we going home now?' 'Yes.' 'Walking?' 'No. The car is there, near the gate.' When they came to the car, Swaminathan got in first and occupied the centre of the back seat. He was still in suspense. Father's friend was taking time to start the car. Swaminathan was sitting all alone in the back seat, very far behind father and his friend. Even now, the coachman's son and his gang could easily pull him out and finish him. The car started. When its engine rumbled, it sounded to Swaminathan's ears like the voice of a saviour. The car was outside the gate now and picked up speed. Swaminathan lifted a corner of his dhoti and mopped his brow.