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 said, "This featherless biped seems to satisfy Galaxy Center's requirements. I'd say he's a suitable recipient for the Gifts." with backtracking permitted." "Exactly!" The Being and his Coadjutor understood each other very well and were the best of friends. "Well, how many Gifts would you suggest for the test?" "How about two Little and one Big?" the Coadjutor ventured. "Umm ... statistically adequate but spiritually unsatisfying. Remember, the fate of his race hangs on his reactions to them. I'd be inclined to increase your suggestion by one each and add a Great." "No—at least I question the last. After all, the Great Gifts aren't as important, really, as the Big Gifts. Besides...." 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?" "Yes," his Coadjutor responded resignedly. "And we're agreed on our subject?" Ernie Meeker—of Chicago, Illinois, U.S. of A., Occident, Terra, Sol, across the street to a drugstore. "Package of blades. Double edge. Five. Cheapest." At one point during the transaction, the clerk lost sight of the tiny packet he'd placed on the coin-whitened glass between them. He gave a suspicious look, as if the customer had palmed them. Ernie blinked. After a moment, he pointed toward the center of the "There they are," he said, dropping a coin beside them. 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 beside the bathroom mirror. He unwrapped the second blade from the packet. Five shaves later, he cut himself under the chin with the second blade, although he was drawing it as gently through his soaped beard as if it it sourly and checked the packet. Wouldn't have been the first time he'd absentmindedly changed blades ahead of schedule. But there were still three blades in their waxed wrappings. Maybe, he thought, he'd still had one of the blades from the last packet and shuffled it into this series. Two or three shaves later, it still seemed as sharp as ever, or almost so. "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 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 Everlasting Razor Blade. One hundred and fifty thousand years later, it turned up, bright and shining, in the midst of a small knob of red That day, Ernie felt a little sick, somehow. After dinner, he decided Ernie sat down suddenly on the toilet seat. The spoon rattled against 2 O into hemi-quasi-stable H and O, furnishing a eye-testing in between, Ernie took up a little of the white powder on abandoned the notion and even refrained from sniffing the stuff—after all, the human body is mostly water. After reducing the quantity several times, he gingerly dumped at most four or five grains on the flat edge of the washbowl and then used the He cautiously explored the boundaries of the heat. It became noticeable about eighteen inches above the drop and almost an inch to each "Ernie! Are you going to be much longer?" Sleep refused even to flirt with Ernie, his mind was full of so many as the white hours accumulated and his thoughts began to squirm, he grabbed up the detective story he'd bought at the corner newsstand. He had read thirty pages before he realized that he was turning them as rapidly as he could focus just once on each facing page. Ernie Meeker had discovered, inside the birthday box that was himself, the first of the Big Gifts. wondered, if he read them so fast? And think how full to bursting his mind would get—right now, the seven pages of fine-print history were churning in it, vividly clear, along with the first chapters of the new Ernie Meeker was not a drinking man, then. A pint had stood a week on individually, or at most in strings of three and four. Which, if it wasn't as it ideally should be in an ambitious man's mind, was at least darn comfortable. He had not rejected the Big Gift of Page-at-a-Glance Reading. Not For want of a better place, Ernie dropped the rubber tube from the Further than that, in the way of engine hygiene, Ernie's strictly He hesitated. At his feet, the garden hose gurgled noisily over the curb into the gutter it had vindicated his midnight estimate, proving and was relieved to find it still empty. He wished fervently, not for Making to check the directions the umpteenth time, he received a body At that point, simple faith came to Ernie's rescue: in the same fifty-cent piece, dumped it in the gas tank without quibbling as to quantity, rapped the coin on the edge of the opening, closed and 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 motor started right up and began purring powerfully. Ernie's sister then, realizing his mistake, quickly added, "I'll buy some in Wheaton. There's enough to get us there." nearly empty." "I was wrong. Look, the gauge shows it's half full." "But then how ... Ernie, didn't you once tell me the gauge doesn't work?" "No, I'll wait for Wheaton—I know a place there I can get it cheaper," 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 With considerable difficulty, Ernie convinced his uncle that he had 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 fifty-mile drive as he'd imagined he would. Now he thought he could put his finger on the reason: It was the completely ... well, If he'd concocted it himself, or been given it by a shady promoter, or 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 decidedly eccentric, even butter-brained. Bill took to calling him "the Meanwhile, besides the problem of the white powder, Ernie was having 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 She worked in an office too, a fancier one than Ernie's, as he found "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 every five seconds, like a lighthouse, but barely, barely bright

<question>:
How many gifts did Ernie receive above the original suggestion?

<options>:
A 1 more than the original amount
B 6 more than the original amount
C 2 more than the original amount
D Double the original amount

<answer>:

D