The Umbrella Man

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The Umbrella Man:

% Tasks
20% Questions (LOG)
10% Quizzes & Language – Perfect
tenses and reading
40% Summative Assessment
30% Post-Reading

Vocabulary:

Fearsome - Polite - Suspicious Scrape – Forgetful – Tremendou


‫מפחיד‬ ‫מנומס‬ - ‫חשוד‬ ‫מגרד‬ ‫שכחן‬ s - ‫עצום‬

Barefaced – Crook – Tempted - Triumph - Suspiciousn Sidesteppin


‫ חסר בושה‬,‫ רמאי חצוף‬,‫עקום‬ ‫פתה‬ ‫ניצחון‬ ess - ‫חשדן‬ g - ‫התחמק‬

Snapped - Huddled - Clutching - Brim - ‫ שולים‬Treble – ‫פי‬ Nerve -


‫נשבר‬ ‫הצטופף‬ ‫אחיזה‬ ‫שלושה‬ ‫עצבים‬

Tumbler - ‫כוס‬ Scurried – Scheme – Silhouette – Clasp – Chauffeur -


‫התרוצץ‬ ,‫תכנית‬ ‫צללית‬ ‫ אחיזה‬,‫לחיצה‬ ‫נהג‬
‫מזימה‬

Transaction - Shrieked - Foul – Summon – Nimbly - Treble – ‫פי‬


‫עסקה‬ ‫צעק‬ ‫ מגעיל‬,‫דוחה‬ ‫ לזמן‬,‫הזמנה‬ ‫זריזות‬ ‫שלוש‬

I’m going to tell you about a funny thing that happened to my mother and me yesterday
evening. I am twelve years old and I’m a girl. My mother is thirty-four but I am nearly as
tall as her already. Yesterday afternoon, my mother took me up to London to see the
dentist. He found one hole. It was in a back tooth and he filled it without hurting me too
much. After that, we went to a cafe. I had a banana split and my mother had a cup of
coffee. By the time we got up to leave, it was about six o’clock. When we came out of
the cafe it had started to rain. ‘We must get a´ taxi,’ my mother said. We were wearing
ordinary hats and coats, and it was raining quite hard. ‘Why don’t we go back into the
cafe and wait for it to stop?’ I said. I ´ wanted another of those banana splits. They were
gorgeous.

‘It isn’t going to stop,’ my mother said. ‘We must get home.’ We stood on the pavement
in the rain, looking for a taxi. Lots of them came by but they all had passengers inside
them. ‘I wish we had a car with a chauffeur,’ my mother said. Just then a man came up
to us. He was a small man and he was pretty old, probably seventy or more. He raised
his hat politely and said to my mother, ‘Excuse me, I do hope you will excuse me . . . ’
He had a fine white moustache and bushy white eyebrows and a wrinkly pink face. He
was sheltering under an umbrella which he held high over his head. ‘Yes?’ my mother
said, very cool and distant. ‘I wonder if I could ask a small favour of you,’ he said. ‘It is
only a very small favour.’ I saw my mother looking at him suspiciously. She is a
suspicious person, my mother. She is especially suspicious of two things – strange men
and boiled eggs. When she cuts off the top of a boiled egg, she pokes around inside it
with her spoon as though expecting to find a mouse or something. With strange men,
she has a golden rule which says, ‘The nicer the man seems to be, the more suspicious
you must become.’ This little old man was particularly nice. He was polite. He was well-
spoken. He was well-dressed. He was a real gentleman. The reason I knew he was a
gentleman was because of his shoes. ‘You can always spot a gentleman by the shoes
he wears,’ was another of my mother’s favourite sayings.

1. What was the weather like when they left the cafe?
After six o’clock when they left the weather was rainy.

2. Describe the man who approached the narrator and her mother.
The man approach the narrator and her mother, he was a small old man with a
fine white and bushy white eyebrows and a wrinkly pink face.

3. Why was the narrator's mother suspicious of the man despite his polite behavior?
The narrator's mother was suspicious of that man because she has a rule that
says the nicer the man he is, the more suspicious he is.
4. According to the narrator's mother, how can you spot a gentleman?
The narrator's mother has a second saying that you can spot a gentleman by the
shoes he wears.

This man had beautiful brown shoes. ‘The truth of the matter is,’ the little man was
saying, ‘I’ve got myself into a bit of a scrape. I need some help. Not much I assure you.
It’s almost nothing, in fact, but I do need it. You see, madam, old people like me often
become terribly forgetful . . . ’ My mother’s chin was up and she was staring down at
him along the full length of her nose. It was fearsome thing, this frosty-nosed stare of
my mother’s. Most people go to pieces completely when she gives it to them. I once
saw my own headmistress begin to stammer and simper like an idiot when my mother
gave her a really foul frosty-noser. But the little man on the pavement with the umbrella
over his head didn’t bat an eyelid. He gave a gentle smile and said, ‘I beg you to
believe, madam, that I am not in the habit of stopping ladies in the street and telling
them my troubles.’ ‘I should hope not,’ my mother said. I felt quite embarrassed by my
mother’s sharpness. I wanted to say to her, ‘Oh, mummy, for heaven’s sake, he’s a very
very old man, and sweet and polite, and he’s in some sort of trouble, so don’t be so
beastly to him.’ But I didn’t say anything.
The little man shifted his umbrella from one hand to the other. ‘I’ve never
forgotten it before,’ he said. ‘You’ve never forgotten what?’ my mother asked sternly.
‘My wallet,’ he said. ‘I must have left it in my other jacket. Isn’t that the silliest thing to
do?’ ‘Are you asking me to give you money?’ my mother said. ‘Oh, good gracious me,
not!’ he cried. ‘Heaven forbid I should ever do that!’ ‘Then what are you asking?’ my
mother said. ‘Do hurry up. We’re getting soaked to the skin here.’ ‘I know you are,’ he
said. ‘And that is why I’m offering you this umbrella of mine to protect you, and to keep
forever, if . . . if only . . . ’ ‘If only what?’ my mother said. ‘If only you would give me in
return a pound for my taxi-fare just to get me home.’

1. How does the little man respond to the narrator's mother's suspicion?
The little man didn't care about it and gave a gentle smile after the mother's suspicion.

2. What favor does the little man ask of the narrator's mother?
The little man forgot his wallet at home and just ask the narrator's mother for a pound of
money to get home in return for the umbrella.

3. Why does the narrator feel embarrassed by their mother's sharpness?


The narrator felt embarrassed by her mother's sharpness because she know the man
was sweet and polite and not someone suspicious.

My mother was still suspicious. ‘If you had no money in the first place,’ she said, ‘then
how did you get here?’ ‘I walked,’ he answered. ‘Every day I go for a lovely long walk
and then I summon a taxi to get me home. I do it every day of the year.’ ’Why don’t you
walk home now?’ my mother asked. ’Oh, I wish I could,’ he said. ’I do wish I could. But I
don’t think I could manage it on these silly old legs of mine. I’ve gone too far already.’
My mother stood there chewing her lower lip. She was beginning to melt a bit, I could
see that. And the idea of getting an umbrella to shelter under must have tempted her a
good deal. ‘It’s a lovely umbrella,’ the little man said. ‘So I’ve noticed,’ my mother said.
‘It’s silk,’ he said. ‘I can see that.’ ‘Then why don’t you take it, madam,’ he said. ‘It cost
me over twenty pounds, I promise you. But now it’s of no importance so long as I can
get home and rest these old legs of mine.’ I saw my mother’s hand feeling for the clasp
of her purse. She saw me watching her. I was giving her one of my own frosty-nosed
looks this time and she knew exactly what I was telling her. Now listen, mummy, I was
telling her, you simply mustn’t take advantage of a tired old man in this way. It’s a rotten
thing to do. My mother paused and looked back at me. Then she said to the little man, ‘I
don’t think it’s quite right that I should take an umbrella from you worth twenty pounds. I
think I’d better just give you the taxi-fare and be done with it.’ ‘No, no no!’ he cried. ‘It’s
out of the question! I wouldn’t dream of it! Not in a million years! I would never accept
money from you like that! Take the umbrella, dear lady, and keep the rain off your
shoulders!’ My mother gave me a triumphant sideways look. There you are, she was
telling me. You’re wrong. He wants me to have it. She fished into her purse and took out
a pound note. She held it out to the little man. He took it and handed her the umbrella.
He pocketed the pound, raised his hat, gave a quick bow from the waist, and said,
‘Thank you, madam, thank you.’ Then he was gone.

1. Why does the little man say he can't walk home at that moment?
The little man loved to take long walks every day, but he was tired after walking
to there because he didn't have money to take a ride.

2. What tempts the narrator's mother to accept the umbrella?


The idea of getting an umbrella to shelter from the rain melted a bit the narrator's mother
to accept it.

3. How does the narrator try to communicate with their mother without speaking?
The narrator communicate to her mother by giving her frosty-nosed looks just like her
mother did to the little man.

4. Why does the little man refuse to accept money from the narrator's mother?

‘Come under here and keep dry, darling,’ my mother said. ‘Aren’t we lucky. I’ve never
had a silk umbrella before. I couldn’t afford it.’ ‘Why were you so horrid to him in the
beginning?’ I asked. ‘I wanted to satisfy myself he wasn’t a trickster,’ she said. ‘And I
did. He was a gentleman. I’m very pleased I was able to help him.’ ‘Yes, mummy,’ I
said. ‘A real gentleman,’ she went on. ‘Wealthy, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have had a
silk umbrella. I shouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t a titled person. Sir Harry Goldsworthy or
something like that.’ ’Yes, mummy.’ ‘This will be a very good lesson to you,’ she went
on. ‘Never rush things. Always take your time when you are summing someone up.Then
you’ll never make mistakes.’ ‘There he goes,’ I said. ’Look.’ ‘Where?’ ‘Over there. He’s
crossing the street. Goodness, mummy, what a hurry he’s in.’ We watched the little man
as he dodged nimbly in and out of the traffic. When he reached the other side of the
street, he turned left, walking very fast. ‘He doesn’t look very tired to me, does he to
you, mummy?’ My mother didn’t answer. ‘He doesn’t look as though he’s trying to get a
taxi, either,’ I said. My mother was standing very still and stiff, staring across the street
at the little man. We could see him clearly. He was in a terrific hurry. He was bustling
along the pavement, sidestepping the other pedestrians and swinging his arms like a
soldier on the march.

‘He’s up to something,’ my mother said, stony-faced. ‘But what?’ ‘I don’t know,’ my


mother snapped. ‘But I’m going to find out. Come with me.’ She took my arm and we
crossed the street together. Then we turned left. ‘Can you see him?’ my mother asked.
‘Yes. There he is. He’s turning right down the next street.’ We came to the corner and
turned right.

1. What does the narrator's mother speculate about the little old man's background?
The narrator's mother speculate that the little man is wealthy, and someone titled
because otherwise he wouldn't have had a silk umbrella.

2. What lesson does the narrator's mother want the narrator to learn from this
experience?
the narrator's mother wanted the narrator to learn to never rush things, and always take
your time when you are summing someone up. Then you’ll never make mistakes.

3. Describe the little old man's behavior as he crosses the street.


The little old man was in a terrific hurry, walking fast and sidestepping the other
pedestrians in his way.

4. Why does the narrator's mother decide to follow the little old man?
The narrator's mother decided to follow the little old man because he broke his promise
and didn't take the money to pay the taxi-fare back home.

The little man was about twenty yards ahead of us. He was scuttling along like a rabbit
and we had to walk very fast to keep up with him. The rain was pelting down harder
than ever now and I could see it dripping from the brim of him hat on to his shoulders.
But we were snug and dry under our lovely big silk umbrella. ‘What is he up to?’ my
mother said. ‘What if he turns round and sees us?’ I asked. ‘I don’t care if he does,’ my
mother said. ‘He lied to us. He said he was too tired to walk any further and he’s
practically running us off our feet! He’s a barefaced liar! He’s a crook!’ ‘You mean he’s
not a titled gentleman?’ I asked. ‘Be quiet,’ she said. At the next crossing, the little man
turned right again. Then he turned left. Then right. ‘I’m not giving up now,’ my mother
said. ‘He’s disappeared!’ I cried. ‘Where’s he gone?’ ‘He went in that door!’ my mother
said. ‘I saw him! Into that house! Great heavens, it’s a pub!’ It was a pub.

In big letters right across the front it said THE RED LION. ‘You’re not going in are you,
mummy?’ ‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ll watch from outside.’ There was a big plate-glass window
along the front of the pub, and although it was a bit steamy on the inside, we could see
through it very well if we went close. We stood huddled together outside the pub
window. I was clutching my mother’s arm. The big raindrops were making a loud noise
on our umbrella. ‘There he is,’ I said. ‘Over there.’ The room we were looking into was
full of people and cigarette smoke, and our little man was in the middle of it all. He was
now without his hat and coat, and he was edging his way through the crowd towards the
bar. When he reached it, he placed both hands on the bar itself and spoke to the
barman. I saw his lips moving as he gave his order.

1. How does the narrator's mother react when she realizes the little old man has
been lying to them?
The narrator's mother was angry because he lied to them, and even called him a
barefaced liar and a crook.

2. What is the significance of the pub they discover the little old man entering?

3. Why does the narrator's mother decide not to go inside the pub?
The
4. How do they observe the little old man once inside the pub?

The barman turned away from him for a few seconds and came back with a
smallish tumbler filled to the brim with light brown liquid. The little man placed a pound
note on the counter. ‘That’s my pound!’ my mother hissed. ‘By golly, he’s got a nerve!’
‘What’s in the glass?’ I asked. ‘Whisky,’ my mother said. ‘Neat whisky.’ The barman
didn’t give him any change from the pound. ‘That must be a treble whisky,’ my mummy
said. ‘What’s a treble?’ ‘Three times the normal measure,’ she answered. The little man
picked up the glass and put it to his lips. He tilted it gently. Then he tilted it higher . . .
and higher . . . and very soon all the whisky had disappeared down his throat in one
long pour. ‘That’s a jolly expensive drink,’ I said.‘It’s ridiculous!’ my mummy said. ‘Fancy
paying a pound for something to swallow in one go!’ ‘It cost him more than a pound,’ I
said. ‘It cost him a twenty-pound silk umbrella.’ ‘So it did,’ my mother said. ‘He must be
mad.’ The little man was standing by the bar with the empty glass in his hand. He was
smiling now, and a sort of golden glow of pleasure was spreading over his round pink
face. I saw his tongue come out to lick the white moustache, as though searching for
one last drop of that precious whisky. Slowly, he turned away from the bar and edged
his way back through the crowd to where his hat and coat were hanging. He put on his
hat. He put on his coat. Then, in a manner so superbly cool and casual that you hardly
noticed anything at all, he lifted from the coat-rack one of the many wet umbrellas
hanging there, and off he went. ‘Did you see that!’ my mother shrieked. ‘Did you see
what he did!’ ‘Sssh!’ I whispered. ‘He’s coming out!’ We lowered our umbrella to hide
our faces, and out from under it. Out he came. But he never looked in our direction. He
opened his new umbrella over his head and scurried off down the road the way he had
come. ‘So that’s his little game!’ my mother said. ‘Neat,’ I said. ‘Super.

We followed him back to the main street where we had first met him, and we
watched him as he proceeded, with no trouble at all, to exchange his new umbrella for
another pound note. This time it was with a tall thin fellow who didn’t even have a coat
or hat. And as soon as the transaction was completed, our little man trotted off down the
street and was lost in the crowd. But this time he went in the opposite direction. ‘You
see how clever he is!’ my mother said. ‘He never goes to the same pub twice!’ ‘He could
go on doing this all night,’ I said. ‘Yes,’ my mother said. ‘Of course. But I’ll bet he prays
like mad for rainy days.

1. How does the narrator's mother react when she realizes the little old man is
spending their money on expensive drinks?
2. What realization does the narrator make about the cost of the drink compared to
the value of the umbrella?
3. Describe the little old man's demeanor after finishing his drink at the bar.
4. What does the little old man do after leaving the bar?
5. How does the little old man continue his scheme after leaving the pub?

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