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

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      ‘Ever try to spin one?’ asked Dr Dorian.

      Mrs Arable shifted uneasily in her chair. ‘No,’ she replied. ‘But I can crochet a doily and I can knit a sock.’

      ‘Sure,’ said the doctor. ‘But somebody taught you, didn’t they?’

      ‘My mother taught me.’

      ‘Well, who taught a spider? A young spider knows how to spin a web without any instructions from anybody. Don’t you regard that as a miracle?’

      ‘I suppose so,’ said Mrs Arable. ‘I never looked at it that way before. Still, I don’t understand how those words got into the web. I don’t understand it, and I don’t like what I can’t understand.’

      ‘None of us do,’ said Dr Dorian, sighing. ‘I’m a doctor. Doctors are supposed to understand everything. But I don’t understand everything, and I don’t intend to let it worry me.’

      Mrs Arable fidgeted. ‘Fern says the animals talk to each other. Dr Dorian, do you believe animals talk?’

      ‘I never heard one say anything,’ he replied. ‘But that proves nothing. It is quite possible that an animal has spoken civilly to me and that I didn’t catch the remark because I wasn’t paying attention. Children pay better attention than grown-ups. If Fern says that the animals in Zuckerman’s barn talk, I’m quite ready to believe her. Perhaps if people talked less, animals would talk more. People are incessant talkers – I can give you my word on that.’

      ‘Well, I feel better about Fern,’ said Mrs Arable. ‘You don’t think I need worry about her?’

      ‘Does she look well?’ asked the doctor.

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      ‘Appetite good?’

      ‘Oh, yes, she’s always hungry.’

      ‘Sleep well at night?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      ‘Then don’t worry,’ said the doctor.

      ‘Do you think she’ll ever start thinking about something besides pigs and sheep and geese and spiders?’

      ‘How old is Fern?’

      ‘She’s eight.’

      ‘Well,’ said Dr Dorian, ‘I think she will always love animals. But I doubt that she spends her entire life in Homer Zuckerman’s barn cellar. How about boys – does she know any boys?’

      ‘She knows Henry Fussy,’ said Mrs Arable brightly.

      Dr Dorian closed his eyes again and went into deep thought. ‘Henry Fussy,’ he mumbled. ‘Hmm. Remarkable. Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Let Fern associate with her friends in the barn if she wants to. I would say, offhand, that spiders and pigs were fully as interesting as Henry Fussy. Yet I predict that the day will come when even Henry will drop some chance remark that catches Fern’s attention. It’s amazing how children change from year to year. How’s Avery?’ he asked, opening his eyes wide.

      ‘Oh, Avery,’ chuckled Mrs Arable. ‘Avery is always fine. Of course, he gets into poison ivy and gets stung by wasps and bees and brings frogs and snakes home and breaks everything he lays his hands on. He’s fine.’

      ‘Good!’ said the doctor.

      Mrs Arable said goodbye and thanked Dr Dorian very much for his advice. She felt greatly relieved.

15. The Crickets

      THE CRICKETS sang in the grasses. They sang the song of summer’s ending, a sad, monotonous song. ‘Summer is over and gone,’ they sang. ‘Over and gone, over and gone. Summer is dying, dying.’

      The crickets felt it was their duty to warn everybody that summertime cannot last for ever. Even on the most beautiful days in the whole year – the days when summer is changing into autumn – the crickets spread the rumour of sadness and change.

      Everybody heard the song of the crickets. Avery and Fern Arable heard it as they walked the dusty road. They knew that school would soon begin again. The young geese heard it and knew that they would never be little goslings again. Charlotte heard it and knew that she hadn’t much time left. Mrs Zuckerman, at work in the kitchen, heard the crickets, and a sadness came over her, too. ‘Another summer gone,’ she sighed. Lurvy, at work building a crate for Wilbur, heard the song and knew it was time to dig potatoes.

      ‘Summer is over and gone,’ repeated the crickets. ‘How many nights till frost?’ sang the crickets. ‘Goodbye, summer, goodbye, goodbye!’

      The sheep heard the crickets, and they felt so uneasy they broke a hole in the pasture fence and wandered up into the field across the road. The gander discovered the hole and led his family through, and they walked to the orchard and ate the apples that were lying on the ground. A little maple tree in the swamp heard the cricket song and turned bright red with anxiety.

      Wilbur was now the centre of attraction on the farm. Good food and regular hours were showing results: Wilbur was a pig any man would be proud of. One day more than a hundred people came to stand at his yard and admire him. Charlotte had written the word RADIANT, and Wilbur really looked radiant as he stood in the golden sunlight. Ever since the spider had befriended him, he had done his best to live up to his reputation. When Charlotte’s web said SOME PIG, Wilbur had tried hard to look like some pig. When Charlotte’s web said TERRIFIC, Wilbur had tried to look terrific. And now that the web said RADIANT, he did everything possible to make himself glow.

      It is not easy to look radiant, but Wilbur threw himself into it with a will. He would turn his head slightly and blink his long eyelashes. Then he would breathe deeply. And when his audience grew bored, he would spring into the air and do a back flip with a half twist. At this the crowd would yell and cheer. ‘How’s that for a pig?’ Mr Zuckerman would ask, well pleased with himself. ‘That pig is radiant.’

      Some of Wilbur’s friends in the barn worried for fear all this attention would go to his head and make him stuck up. But it never did. Wilbur was modest; fame did not spoil him. He still worried some about the future, as he could hardly believe that a mere spider would be able to save his life. Sometimes at night he would have a bad dream. He would dream that men were coming to get him with knives and guns. But that was only a dream. In the daytime, Wilbur usually felt happy and confident. No pig ever had truer friends, and he realized that friendship is one of the most satisfying things in the world. Even the song of the crickets did not make Wilbur too sad. He knew it was almost time for the County Fair, and he was looking forward to the trip. If he could distinguish himself at the Fair, and maybe win some prize money, he was sure Zuckerman would let him live.

      Charlotte had worries of her own, but she kept quiet about them. One morning Wilbur asked her about the Fair.

      ‘You’re СКАЧАТЬ