Charlotte’s Web and other classic animal stories: Charlotte’s Web, The Trumpet of the Swan, Stuart Little. Garth Williams

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ lashed back. Then a left to the tail and a right to the mid-section. The fish lashed back. Then she dodged to one side and threw a right, and another right to the fin. Then a hard left to the head, while the web swayed and stretched.’

      ‘Then what happened?’ asked Wilbur.

      ‘Nothing,’ said Charlotte. ‘The fish lost the fight. My cousin wrapped it up so tight it couldn’t budge.’

      ‘Then what happened?’ asked Wilbur.

      ‘Nothing,’ said Charlotte. ‘My cousin kept the fish for a while, and then, when she got good and ready, she ate it.’

      ‘Tell me another story!’ begged Wilbur.

      So Charlotte told him about another cousin of hers who was an aeronaut.

      ‘What is an aeronaut?’ asked Wilbur.

      ‘A balloonist,’ said Charlotte. ‘My cousin used to stand on her head and let out enough thread to form a balloon. Then she’d let go and be lifted into the air and carried upwards on the warm wind.’

      ‘Is that true?’ asked Wilbur. ‘Or are you just making it up?’

      ‘It’s true,’ replied Charlotte. ‘I have some very remarkable cousins. And now, Wilbur, it’s time you went to sleep.’

      ‘Sing something!’ begged Wilbur, closing his eyes.

      So Charlotte sang a lullaby, while crickets chirped in the grass and the barn grew dark. This was the song she sang:

       ‘Sleep, sleep, my love, my only,

       Deep, deep, in the dung and the dark;

       Be not afraid and be not lonely!

       This is the hour when frogs and thrushes

       Praise the world from the woods and the rushes.

       Rest from care, my one and only,

       Deep in the dung and the dark!’

      But Wilbur was already asleep. When the song ended, Fern got up and went home.

14. Dr Dorian

      THE NEXT day was Saturday. Fern stood at the kitchen sink drying the breakfast dishes as her mother washed them. Mrs Arable worked silently. She hoped Fern would go out and play with other children, instead of heading for the Zuckermans’ barn to sit and watch animals.

      ‘Charlotte is the best story teller I ever heard,’ said Fern, poking her dish towel into a cereal bowl.

      ‘Fern,’ said her mother sternly, ‘you must not invent things. You know spiders don’t tell stories. Spiders can’t talk.’

      ‘Charlotte can,’ replied Fern. ‘She doesn’t talk very loud, but she talks.’

      ‘What kind of story did she tell?’ asked Mrs Arable.

      ‘Well,’ began Fern, ‘she told me about a cousin of hers who caught a fish in her web. Don’t you think that’s fascinating?’

      ‘Fern, dear, how would a fish get in a spider’s web?’ said Mrs Arable. ‘You know it couldn’t happen. You’re making this up.’

      ‘Oh, it happened all right,’ replied Fern. ‘Charlotte never fibs. This cousin of hers built a web across a stream. One day she was hanging around on the web and a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the web. The fish was caught by one fin, Mother; its tail was wildly thrashing and shining in the sun. Can’t you just see the web, sagging dangerously under the weight of the fish? Charlotte’s cousin kept slipping in, dodging out, and she was beaten mercilessly over the head by the wildly thrashing fish, dancing in, dancing out, throwing …’

      ‘Fern!’ snapped her mother. ‘Stop it! Stop inventing these wild tales!’

      ‘I’m not inventing,’ said Fern. ‘I’m just telling you the facts.’

      ‘What finally happened?’ asked her mother, whose curiosity began to get the better of her.

      ‘Charlotte’s cousin won. She wrapped the fish up, then she ate him when she got good and ready. Spiders have to eat, the same as the rest of us.’

      ‘Yes, I suppose they do,’ said Mrs Arable, vaguely.

      ‘Charlotte has another cousin who is a balloonist. She stands on her head, lets out a lot of line, and is carried aloft on the wind. Mother, wouldn’t you simply love to do that?’

      ‘Yes, I would, come to think of it,’ replied Mrs Arable. ‘But, Fern, darling, I wish you would play outdoors today instead of going to Uncle Homer’s barn. Find some of your playmates and do something nice outdoors. You’re spending too much time in that barn – it isn’t good for you to be alone so much.’

      ‘Alone?’ said Fern. ‘Alone? My best friends are in the barn cellar. It is a very sociable place. Not at all lonely.’

      Fern disappeared after a while, walking down the road towards Zuckerman’s. Her mother dusted the sitting-room. As she worked she kept thinking about Fern. It didn’t seem natural for a little girl to be so interested in animals. Finally Mrs Arable made up her mind she would pay a call on old Dr Dorian and ask his advice. She got in the car and drove to his office in the village.

      Dr Dorian had a thick beard. He was glad to see Mrs Arable and gave her a comfortable chair.

      ‘It’s about Fern,’ she explained. ‘Fern spends entirely too much time in the Zuckermans’ barn. It doesn’t seem normal. She sits on a milk stool in a corner of the barn cellar, near the pigpen, and watches animals, hour after hour. She just sits and listens.’

      Dr Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes.

      ‘How enchanting!’ he said. ‘It must be real nice and quiet down there. Homer has some sheep, hasn’t he?’

      ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Arable. ‘But it all started with that pig we let Fern raise on a bottle. She calls him Wilbur. Homer bought the pig, and ever since it left our place Fern has been going to her uncle’s to be near it.’

      ‘I’ve been hearing things about that pig,’ said Dr Dorian, opening his eyes. ‘They say he’s quite a pig.’

      ‘Have you heard about the words that appeared in the spider’s web?’ asked Mrs Arable nervously.

      ‘Yes,’ replied the doctor.

      ‘Well, do you understand it?’ asked Mrs Arable.

      ‘Understand what?’

      ‘Do you understand how there could be any writing in a spider’s web?’

      ‘Oh, СКАЧАТЬ