Online Grading Test

On the morning of the feast, we arrived early to help with the preparations. Mr. Robinson was already in the hall slicing boiled ham. John Barraclough arrived shortly after to set up the kitchen. Outside on the wall, some large, freshly washed teapots, were drying in the air, near the lawn. Preparations were well under way and by carrying chairs, fetching water and generally making ourselves useful, Jack and I each earned a free ticket to the event. On the dot of six, we returned to the village hall. We queued in the cold evening air. When the doors opened, it was every man for himself, we quickly pushed our way in. The room had been magically transformed. Long trestle tables heaved with the weight of the feast. Two warm stoves burned brightly in the corner. Everyone sat down excitedly and stared at the food. Mr. Robinson arose, his speech notes at the ready. We waited impatiently for him to finish his address. Finally we could eat. Cakes, buns, sandwiches it didn’t matter at all. We just worked from one plate to the next. While steaming teapots passed up and down. We were so busy that there was little time left for conversation. Through the open windows we could see the snow beginning to fall. We loosened our belts and began to nod at each other. Yes, it was going to be a good year.