Margot stood apart from them, from these children who could never remember a time when there wasn't rain and rain and rain. They were all nine years old, and if there had been a day, seven years ago, when the
sun came out for an hour and showed its face to the stunned world, they could not recall. Sometimes, at
night, she heard them stir, in remembrance, and she knew they were dreaming and remembering gold or a
yellow crayon or a coin large enough to buy the world with. She knew they thought they remembered a
warmness, like a blushing in the face, in the body, in the arms and legs and trembling hands. But then they
always awoke to the tatting drum, the endless shaking down of clear bead necklaces upon the roof, the
walk, the gardens, the forests, and their dreams were gone.
bard
All day yesterday they had read in class about the sun. About how like a lemon it was and how hot.
dar
And they had written small stories or essays or poems about it I think the sun is a flower that blooms for
just one hour. That was Margot's poem, read in a quiet voice in the still classroom while the rain was falling
outside
"Aw, you didn't write that protested one of the boys.
"I did." said Margot. "I did."
15. This passage is mostly about-
How difficult it is for Margot to express herself in this hostile environment
How Margolis artistic and creative which is not valued by people on this planet
How Mangot is different from the other children because she remembers the sun
How hapoy Margot is while waiting expectantly to view the sun again