Underline the indirect objects in the following paragraphs! 1. Morg was cross. She was more than cross, she was furious. She had been chosen to mind her little
B. inggris
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Underline the indirect objects in the following paragraphs!
1. Morg was cross. She was more than cross, she was furious. She had been chosen to mind her little brother, again. Normally she quite liked him, as he stumbled after her on his short legs, babbling in a way that made her laugh, but today there was some-thing much more exciting happening. The men were preparing to go on a hunt. There hadn't been a hunt for months. First there was too much rain and then there was too much work with the harvest. But now the wheat was in and the grain was all stored in pits. The Druid was here, bringing blessings from the gods and medicines for the villagers. So the chief had decided that it was time. Outside the men were gathering and the Druid was chanting. Morg longed to be there.
2. But Morg was not allowed to go. She wasn't even allowed to watch. Her brother was unwell. He had an evil spirit in his chest which was making him cough and cough. He had to stay warm, and to do that, he had to be in the hut. Therefore, while her mother was fetching water, Morg had to stay in the hut too. It was dark in the hut. A warm, rich, thick darkness, lit only by the glow from the fire which burnt in the middle of the room. Later, the fire would be built up so that flames would lick the round black cauldronand heat the stew for the evening meal, but for now turf had been laid on the logs. The fire would stay hot and alive, but would not need to be fed. Morg knew that fires were as ravenous as the wolves she heard howling in the woods at night.
3. Morg could smell the fire and the smell was as familiar to her as the smell of her mother. She could sniff and tell in a moment whether the family were burning ash branches or hazel, hawthorn or coppiced elm. To Morg, it was the smell of home. The glow from the fire lit the face of the boy who lay next to it asleep on the blanket. Morg swept the floor around him savagely. Any crumbs or discarded meat would make food for the rats, and her mother hated rats. Morg decided that today she hated her mother. She knew her mother was anxious about the cough because her sister had coughed in the same way before she had died. That didn't stop Morg from muttering a curse against the unkind-ness that kept her inside the hut. As she said it, she wished she could swallow the words back, but it was too late. She looked around worriedly. Maybe nobody had heard. She chanted a good will incantation, and crossed her fingers.
4. Outside, she heard a hunting horn, loud and sharp across the village. Morg sidled towards the doorway. She could see light through a gap in the planks, but that was not enough. She opened the door a crack. Maybe she could watch them from here? She might just be able to catch a glimpse of what was going on. But she couldn't see anything. The fence that kept in the pigs was blocking her view. She opened the door wider, and an icy blast of wind whipped it out of her hands. It banged crash against the side of the hut. Behind her the fire crackled into life and the baby opened his eyes. Morg did not notice. She fought for control of the door. She wedged it with a stone, so that it still looked closed at first glance. She slid out and across to the corner of the pig fence.
1. Morg was cross. She was more than cross, she was furious. She had been chosen to mind her little brother, again. Normally she quite liked him, as he stumbled after her on his short legs, babbling in a way that made her laugh, but today there was some-thing much more exciting happening. The men were preparing to go on a hunt. There hadn't been a hunt for months. First there was too much rain and then there was too much work with the harvest. But now the wheat was in and the grain was all stored in pits. The Druid was here, bringing blessings from the gods and medicines for the villagers. So the chief had decided that it was time. Outside the men were gathering and the Druid was chanting. Morg longed to be there.
2. But Morg was not allowed to go. She wasn't even allowed to watch. Her brother was unwell. He had an evil spirit in his chest which was making him cough and cough. He had to stay warm, and to do that, he had to be in the hut. Therefore, while her mother was fetching water, Morg had to stay in the hut too. It was dark in the hut. A warm, rich, thick darkness, lit only by the glow from the fire which burnt in the middle of the room. Later, the fire would be built up so that flames would lick the round black cauldronand heat the stew for the evening meal, but for now turf had been laid on the logs. The fire would stay hot and alive, but would not need to be fed. Morg knew that fires were as ravenous as the wolves she heard howling in the woods at night.
3. Morg could smell the fire and the smell was as familiar to her as the smell of her mother. She could sniff and tell in a moment whether the family were burning ash branches or hazel, hawthorn or coppiced elm. To Morg, it was the smell of home. The glow from the fire lit the face of the boy who lay next to it asleep on the blanket. Morg swept the floor around him savagely. Any crumbs or discarded meat would make food for the rats, and her mother hated rats. Morg decided that today she hated her mother. She knew her mother was anxious about the cough because her sister had coughed in the same way before she had died. That didn't stop Morg from muttering a curse against the unkind-ness that kept her inside the hut. As she said it, she wished she could swallow the words back, but it was too late. She looked around worriedly. Maybe nobody had heard. She chanted a good will incantation, and crossed her fingers.
4. Outside, she heard a hunting horn, loud and sharp across the village. Morg sidled towards the doorway. She could see light through a gap in the planks, but that was not enough. She opened the door a crack. Maybe she could watch them from here? She might just be able to catch a glimpse of what was going on. But she couldn't see anything. The fence that kept in the pigs was blocking her view. She opened the door wider, and an icy blast of wind whipped it out of her hands. It banged crash against the side of the hut. Behind her the fire crackled into life and the baby opened his eyes. Morg did not notice. She fought for control of the door. She wedged it with a stone, so that it still looked closed at first glance. She slid out and across to the corner of the pig fence.
1 Jawaban
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1. Jawaban pura5
1.morg was cross.she was more than cross,shewas forious.