Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
and were the best of friends. "Well, how many Gifts would you suggest "No—at least I question the last. After all, the Great Gifts aren't as important, really, as the Big Gifts. Besides...." always afraid that you'll use the granting of a Great Gift as an excuse What Little Gifts would you suggest?" "That's something I want to talk about. Many of the Little Gifts are our Gifts—three Little, two Big, and one Great?" Ernie Meeker—of Chicago, Illinois, U.S. of A., Occident, Terra, Sol, packet he'd placed on the coin-whitened glass between them. He gave a Ernie blinked. After a moment, he pointed toward the center of the "There they are," he said, dropping a coin beside them. sneak something without your seeing could sneak it back the same way. He rang up the sale and closed the register fast. Ernie Meeker went home and shaved. Five days—and shaves—later, he pushed the first blade, uncomfortably dull now, through the tiny slot Maybe, he thought, he'd still had one of the blades from the last "Funny thing," he remarked to Bill at lunch, "sometimes you get a blade "That's true, all right," Ernie agreed, trying to remember how well he studied the bright metal wafer, then flipped it closed with an Next morning, he was still using the freak blade, but with a persistent them to, in accordance with their flimsy souls, he told himself at the So Ernie Meeker pushed through the little slot beside the mirror and heard tinkle faintly down and away the first of the Little Gifts, the That day, Ernie felt a little sick, somehow. After dinner, he decided bathroom with a spoon, but as he clutched the box of bicarbonate of soda, preparatory to plunging the spoon into it, it seemed to him that Ernie sat down suddenly on the toilet seat. The spoon rattled against eye-testing in between, Ernie took up a little of the white powder on the end of a nailfile. He had thought of tasting it, but had instantly After reducing the quantity several times, he gingerly dumped at most and colored not blue but pale green. A spectral green needle. He blew "Ernie! Are you going to be much longer?" pocket, put the blue box—after a final check of the lettering—in his Sleep refused even to flirt with Ernie, his mind was full of so many He selected the thickest book on the shelf, an overpoweringly dull closed it with a clap and looked at the wall with frightened eyes. Ernie Meeker had discovered, inside the birthday box that was himself, the first of the Big Gifts. The trouble was that in that wee-hour, lonely bedroom, it didn't seem like a gift at all. How would he ever keep himself in books, he have to be revising all his opinions and beliefs every couple of days at least—maybe every couple of hours. he was staring at, which imitated the grain of wood, had in an instant be able to? It was an abnormal, dangerous, temporary sensitivity, he told himself, generated by the excitement of the crazy discovery he'd made on the verge of visualizing the whole universe, having its ultimate secrets patter down into the palm of his outstretched hand—just before Ernie Meeker was not a drinking man, then. A pint had stood a week on good job on the sturdy remainder. Pretty soon the unbearable, edge-of-doom clarity in his mind faded, He had not rejected the Big Gift of Page-at-a-Glance Reading. Not quite. But he had dislocated for tonight at least the imposed nervous field on which it depended. For want of a better place, Ernie dropped the rubber tube from the until payday to gas up. Now he had used the tube to siphon out what Further than that, in the way of engine hygiene, Ernie's strictly it had vindicated his midnight estimate, proving just long enough. He looked uneasily up and down the dawning street and was relieved to find it still empty. He wished fervently, not for sighed, squared his shoulders a little, and lifted the box out of his Making to check the directions the umpteenth time, he received a body Right there died his tentative plan of eventually sharing his secret At that point, simple faith came to Ernie's rescue: in the same bathroom, he had Quickly he dipped up a little of the white powder on the edge of a fifty-cent piece, dumped it in the gas tank without quibbling as to Ernie swung the hose around, flipping his thumb over the end to make Ernie felt light-headed. He decided there was enough water in the gas "Ernie! Come on in and have breakfast!" He heeded his sister's call, telling himself it would be a good idea It was the day for their monthly drive out to Wheaton to visit Uncle Fabius. On the whole, Ernie was glad his sister was in the car when he motor started right up and began purring powerfully. Ernie's sister then, realizing his mistake, quickly "But then how ... Ernie, didn't you once tell me the gauge doesn't spoiled, but a few minutes of silence brought it back. He thought of the blur of green flashes inside the purring motor. If the passing drivers only knew! Uncle Fabius, retired perhaps a few years too early and opinionated, Ernie chose a moment when his sister was out of the room to ask if "Who's been getting at you?" Uncle Fabius demanded sharply, to Ernie's surprise and embarrassment. "That's one of the oldest swindles. disappeared. You're supposed to believe that Detroit or the big oil companies got rid of him. It's just another of those malicious legends, concocted—by Russia, I imagine—to weaken your faith in American With considerable difficulty, Ernie convinced his uncle that he had him . When you see him—and be sure to make that soon—tell him from me that—" and Uncle Fabius began an impassioned ninety-minute defense of big business, small business, prosperity, America, money, know-how, and a number of other wholly normal when Ernie's sister returned. motor, starting readily again, cut short her remark and Ernie didn't To tell the truth, Ernie wasn't feeling as elated about today's his finger on the reason: It was the completely ... well, arbitrary If he'd concocted it himself, or been given it by a shady promoter, or even seen the box fall out of the pocket of a suspicious-looking man he'd have felt more able to do something From that moment, the fuel-powder became a trial to Ernie rather than a He couldn't decide on a safe place to keep the box and took to carrying office and by an unhappy coincidence needed some bicarb just then for a troubled stomach. Ernie explained on the spur of the moment that he was using the box to carry plaster of Paris, which involved him in further lies that he felt were quite unconvincing as well as making him appear decidedly eccentric, even butter-brained. Bill took to calling him "the sculptor." Meanwhile, besides the problem of the white powder, Ernie was having other unsettling experiences, stemming (though of course he didn't know that) from the other Gifts—and not just the Big Gift of Like many another car-owning commuter, Ernie found the traffic and During those brief, swift, crowded trips Ernie, generally looking Ernie couldn't figure out the reason and wasn't at all sure he liked She was the sort of girl Ernie dreamed about, improperly. Tall, blonde neatly furled short umbrella dangling from her wrist might better be a "Well, I'll tell you then, Ernie, and I've got to admit it's something Ernie, I'm sure your knowledge of romantic novels is shamefully you, Ernie, actually have. Flashing eyes." "No, Ernie, though you're doing it now," she told him, shaking her

<question>:
What did Ernie do with his first gift?

<options>:
A He threw it away
B He gave it to a friend
C He kept it a secret from everyone
D He celebrated it

<answer>:

A