Direktlänk till inlägg 20 maj 2011

I want you in bed

Av debbyhanxu debbyhanxu - 20 maj 2011 06:21

Wilbur was pleased to receive so much attention. Lurvy was still standing there, and Mr. And Mrs. Zuckerman, all three, stood for about an hour, reading the words on the web over and over, and watching Wilbur.   Charlotte was delighted with the way her trick was working. She sat without moving a muscle, and listened to the conversation of the people. When a small fly blundered into the web, just beyond the word “pig,” Charlotte dropped quickly down, rolled the fly up, and carried it out of the way.   After a while the fog lifted. The web dried off and the words didn’t show up so plainly. The Zuckermans and Lurvy walked back to the house. Just before they left the pigpen, Mr. Zuckerman took one last look at Wilbur.   “You know,” he said, in an important voice, “I’ve thought all along that that pig of ours was an extra good one. He’s a solid pig. That pig is as solid as they come. You notice how solid he is around the shoulders, Lurvy?”   “Sure, Sure I do,” said Lurvy. “I’ve always noticed that pig. He’s quite a pig.”   “He’s long, and he’s smooth,” said Zuckerman.   “That’s right,” agreed Lurvy. “he’s as smooth as they come. He’s some pig.”   When Mr. Zuckerman got back to the house, he took off his work clothes and put on his best suit. Then he got into his car and drove to the minister’s house. He stayed for an hour and explained to the minister that a miracle had happened on the farm.   “So far,” said Zuckerman, “only four people on earth know about this miracle—myself, my wife Edith, my hired man Lurvy, and you.”   “Don’t tell anybody else,” said the minister. “We don’t know what it means yet, but perhaps if I give thought to it, I can explain it in my sermon next Sunday. There can be no doubt that you have a most unusual pig. I intend to speak about it in my sermon and point out the fact that this community has been visited with a wondrous animal. By the way, does the pig have a name?”   “Why, yes,” said Mr. Zuckerman. “My little niece calls him Wilbur. She’s rather queer child—full of notions. She raised the pig on a bottle and I bought him from her when he was a month old.”   He shook hands with the minister, and left.   Secrets are hard to keep. Long before Sunday came, the news spread all over the county. Everybody knew that a sign had appeared in a spider’s web on the Zuckerman place. Everybody knew that the Zuckermans had a wondrous pig. People came from miles around to look at Wilbur and to read the words on Charlotte’s web. The Zuckermans’ driveway was full of cars and trucks from morning till night—Fords and Chevvies and Buick roadmasters and GMC pickups and Plymouths and Studebakers and Packards and De Sotos with gyromatic transmissions and Oldsmobiles with rocket engines and Jeep station wagons and Pontiacs. The news of the wonderful pig spread clear up into the hills, and farmers came rattling down in buggies and buckboards, to stand hour after hour at Wilbur’s pen admiring the miraculous animal. All said they had never seen such a pig before in their lives. When Fern told her mother that Avery had tried to hit the Zuckermans’ spider with a stick, Mrs. Arable was so shocked that she sent Avery to bed without any supper, as punishment.   In the days that followed, Mr. Zuckerman was so busy entertaining visitors that he neglected his farm work. He wore his good clothes all the time now—got right into them when he got up in the morning. Mrs. Zuckerman prepared special meals for Wilbur. Lurvy shaved and got a haircut; and his principal farm duty was to feed the pig while people looked on.   Mr. Zuckerman ordered Lurvy to increase Wilbur’s feedings from three meals a day to four meals a day. The Zuckermans were so busy with visitors they forgot about other things on the farm. The blackberries got ripe, and Mrs. Zuckerman failed to put up any blackberry jam. The corn needed hoeing, and Lurvy didn’t find time to hoe it.   On Sunday the church was full. The minister explained the miracle. He said that the words on the spider’s web proved that human beings must always be on the watch for the coming of wonders.   All in all, the Zuckermans’ pigpen was the center of attraction. Fern was happy, for she felt that Charlotte’s trick was working and that Wilbur’s life would be saved. But she found that the barn was not nearly as pleasant—too many people. She liked it better when she could be all alone with her friends the animals.

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What does sedentary mean?” asked Wilbur.   “Means I sit still a good part of the time and don’t go wandering all over creation. I know a good thing when I see it, and my web is a good thing. I stay put and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think.”   “Well, I’m sort of sedentary myself, I guess,” said the pig. “I have to hang around here whether I want to or not. You know where I'd really like to be this evening?”   “Where?”   “In a forest looking for beechnuts and truffles and delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonderful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground, smelling, smelling, smelling…”   “You smell just the way you are,” remarked a lamb who had just walked in. I can smell you from here. You're the smelliest creature in the place.”   Wilbur hung his head. His eyes grew wet with tears. Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke sharply to the lamb.   “Leave Wilbur alone!” she said. “he has a perfect right to smell, considering his surroundings. You're no bundle of sweet peas yourself. Furthermore, you are interrupting a very pleasant conversation. What were we talking about, Wilbur, when we were so rudely interrupted?”   “Oh, I don't remember,” said Wilbur. “It doesn't make any difference.. Let's not talk any more for a while, Charlotte. I'm getting sleepy. You go ahead and finish fixing your web and I'll just lie here and watch you. It's a lovely evening.” Wilbur stretched out on his side.   Twilight settled over Zuckerman's barn, and a feeling of peace. Fern knew it was almost suppertime but she couldn't bear to leave. Swallows passed on silent wings, in and out of the doorways, bringing food to their young ones. From across the road a bird sang “Whippoorwill, whippoorwill!” Lurvy sat down under and apple tree and lit his pipe; the animals sniffed the familiar smell of strong tobacco. Wilbur heard the trill of the tree toad and the occasional slamming of the kitchen door. All these sounds made him feel comfortable and happy, for he loved life and loved to be a part of the world on a summer evening. But as he lay there he remembered what the old sheep had told him. The thought of death came to him and he began to tremble with fear.   “Charlotte?” he said, softly.   “Yes, Wilbur?”   “I don’t want to die.”   “Of course you don’t,” said Charlotte in a comforting voice.   “I just love it here in the barn,” said Wilbur. “I love everything about this place.”   “Of course you do,” said Charlotte. “We all do.”   The goose appeared, followed by her seven goslings. They thrust their little necks out and kept up a musical whistling, like a tiny troupe of pipers. Wilbur listened to the sound with love in his heart.   “Charlotte?” he said.   “Yes?” said the spider.   “Were you serious when you promised you would keep them from killing me?”   “I was never more serious in my life. I am not going to let you die, Wilbur.”   “How are you going to save me?” asked Wilbur, whose curiosity was very strong on this point.   “Well,” said Charlotte, vaguely, “I don't really know. But I'm working on a plan.”   “ That's wonderful,” said Wilbur. “How is the plan coming, Charlotte? Have you got very far with it? Is it coming along pretty well?” Wilbur was trembling again, but Charlotte was cool and collected.   “Oh, it's coming all right,” she said, lightly. “The plan is still in its early stages had hasn't completely shaped up yet, but I'm working on it.   “When do you work on it?” begged Wilbur.   “When I'm hanging head-down at the top of my web. That’s when I do my thinking, because then all the blood is in my head.”   “I'd be only too glad to help in any way I can.”   “Oh, I'll work it out alone,” said Charlotte. “I can think better if I think alone.”   “All right,” said Wilbur. “But don't fail to let me know if there's anything I can do to help, no matter how slight.   “Well,” replied Charlotte, “you must try to build yourself up. I want you to get plenty of sleep, and stop worrying. Never hurry and never worry! Chew your food thoroughly and eat every bit of it, except you must leave just enough for Templeton. Gain weight and stay well—that’s the way you can help. Keep fit, and don’t lose your nerve. Do you think you understand?   "Yes, I understand,” said Wilbur.   “Go along to bed, then,” said Charlotte. “Sleep is important.” Wilbur trotted over to the darkest corner of his pen and threw himself down. He closed his eyes. In another minute he spoke.   “Charlotte?” he said.   “Yes, Wilbur?”   “May I go out to my trough and see if I left any of my supper? I think I left just a tiny bit of mashed potato.”   “Very well,” said Charlotte. “But I want you in bed again without delay.” Wilbur started to race out to his yard.   “Slowly, slowly!” said Charlotte. “Never hurry and never worry!”   Wilbur checked himself and crept slowly to his trough. He found a bit of potato, chewed it carefully, swallowed it, and walked back to bed. He closed his eyes and was silent for a while.   “Charlotte?” he said, in a whisper.   “Yes?”   “May I get a drink of milk?” I think there are a few drops of milk left in my trough.”   “No, the trough is dry, and I want you to go to sleep. No more talking! Close your eyes and go to sleep!”   Wilbur shut his eyes. Fern got up from her stool and started for home, her mind full of everything she had seen and heard.   “Good night, Charlotte!” said Wilbur.   “Good night, Wilbur!”   There was a pause.   “Good night, Charlotte!”   “Good night, Wilbur!”   “Good night!”   “Good night!”

 

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