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

<passage>:
When school opened again in the fall Ethel sold her trailer and got a country for the sugar cane season. We never heard from Ethel and Joey "Anything wrong, Joey?" I asked. Doc says that footloose migratories like him and me forget old associations as quick as kids do—and for the same good reason—so I'm not especially interested now in where Ethel and Joey Pond are or how I wish I'd asked Joey or Ethel, before they moved away, how Charlie trying to remember just what it was about my stumbling over Joey's wheelchair that had given me that screwy double-exposure feeling of familiarity. I got a can of beer out of the ice-box because I think better with something cold in my hand, and by the time I had finished the beer I had my answer. The business I'd gone through with Joey outside was familiar because like a man—I saw that she was fairly young and not bad-looking in a tough, sullen sort of way. The wind was blowing in my direction and it told me she'd had a drink recently, gin, by the smell of it. "This is none of your business, mister," she said. Her voice was Southern like the boy's but with all the softness ground out of it She was right about it being none of my business. I went on into the trailer I shared with Doc Shull and left the two of them waiting for Charlie together. gone out looking for a drink as soon as I left that morning to pick up a job, and second that he'd probably got too tight to find his way back. But I was wrong on at least one count, because when I switched on the light and dumped the packages I'd brought on the sink cabinet I saw Doc asleep in his bunk. He'd had a drink, though. I could smell it on him when I shook him awake, and it smelled like gin. Doc sat up and blinked against the light, a thin, elderly little man with bright blue eyes, a clipped brown mustache and scanty brown hair "Crawl out and cook supper, Rip," I said, holding him to his end of our working agreement. "I've made a day and I'm hungry." I'd never been able to stay sore at him for long I added, "But we got beer. Where's the opener?" "I'm sick of beer, too," Doc said. "I need a real drink." I sniffed the air, making a business of it. "You've had one already. Where?" though he's a semi-alcoholic and lets me support him like an invalid uncle, and he's keen enough to read my mind like a racing form. "No, I didn't batter down the cupboard and help myself," he said. "The lady—her name is Mrs. Ethel Pond—gave me the drink. Why else do you suppose I'd launder a shirt?" That was like Doc. He hadn't touched her bottle though his insides were probably snarled up like barbed wire for the want of it. He'd shaved and pressed a shirt instead so he'd look decent enough to rate a shot of gin she'd offer him as a reward. It wasn't such a doubtful gamble at that, because Doc has a way with him when he bothers to use it fishing and migratory crop work, because he's used that charm too often in the wrong places. "Good enough," I said and punctured a can of beer apiece for us while explain why Ethel acted so tough and sullen. We were halfway through supper when I remembered something the kid had Joey was hospitalized with polio." Doc nodded, seemed to lose interest in the Ponds, so I let the subject Ethel Pond told me quick to mind my own business. Doc explained that with Joey than Ethel had, and the kid felt as safe with him as he'd had depended on Joey for the affection he wouldn't take from anybody At first I thought it was funny that Joey never complained or cried when Charlie didn't come home, but Doc explained that it was all a part of this psychological block business. If Joey cried he'd be Then he'd say, "Not today, Joey," or, "Thought so yesterday, but this It was hard on Ethel. Sometimes the kid would dream at night that Charlie had come home and was scratching at the trailer ramp to be let in, and he'd wake Ethel and beg her to go out and see. When that happened Doc and I could hear Ethel talking to him, low and steady, until all hours of the morning, and when he finally went back to sleep we'd hear her open the cupboard and take out the gin bottle. But there came a night that was more than Ethel could take, a night that changed Joey's routine and a lot more with it. It left a mark you never knew what made it. Nobody ever knew that but Joey and Ethel out next door. We heard Ethel get up and go to him, and we got up too and opened a beer because we knew neither of us would sleep any more till she got Joey quiet again. But this night was different. Ethel hadn't talked to the kid long when he yelled, "Charlie! A little later Ethel came out into the moonlight and shut the trailer door behind her. She looked rumpled and beaten, her hair straggling damply on her shoulders and her eyes puffed and red from crying. The gin she'd had hadn't helped any either. She stood for a while without moving, then she looked up at the sky and said something I'm not likely to forget. "Why couldn't You give the kid a break?" she said, not railing or "She's done it, Roy," Doc said. I knew what he meant and wished I didn't. Ethel had finally told the kid that Charlie wasn't coming back, not ever. That's why I was worried about Joey when I came home the next evening "Books for Joey," Doc said. "Ethel and I agreed this morning that the go to school I'm going to teach him here." He went on to explain that Ethel hadn't had the heart the night before, desperate as she was, to tell the kid the whole truth. She'd story. Joey still didn't know that Charlie was dead, but his waiting Ethel Pond knocked just then, interrupting him. She came in and had a the sky like that he'd say only that he wants something to remember Charlie by. It was about nine o'clock, when Ethel went home to cook supper. Doc and I knocked off our cribbage game and went outside with our folding us. They stopped moving around midnight and we went to bed, but neither of us got to sleep right away. "Maybe we ought to look for another interest in life ourselves instead "Look," I said. "I know this sounds crazy but maybe Joey—" suggested to Doc, only half joking, that maybe the Pup had stayed put because it wasn't bright enough to suit Joey's taste, but Doc called "Don't joke about Joey," he said sternly. "Getting back to them, couldn't he?" But Doc wouldn't argue the point. "I'm going out for air," he said. I trailed along, but we didn't get farther than Joey's wheelchair. Doc couldn't hear, then I asked him how things were going. "Slow, Roy," he said. "I've got 'most a hundred to go, yet." I told Doc about that after we'd bunked in, but he said I should not because he's upset about Charlie. The thing to do is give him a Doc was taking all this so hard—because it was upsetting things he'd upset Doc really was, though, till he woke me up at about 4:00 There are more things, Horatio.... '" he began, then laughed. "A line worn threadbare by three hundred years of repetition but as apt "Doc said this morning that I ought not to move any more stars," the was stumping around on crutches and after that he never went near his wheelchair again. Ethel sent him to school at Sarasota by bus and before summer vacation

<question>:
Why was Ethel upset at night time after talking with Joey?

<options>:
A Roy and Doc had interrupted her conversation
B She had finally told him that Charlie was gone
C He refused to believe her about Charlie
D She had run out of gin to drink

<answer>:

B