Charlottes Web (1)-夏洛的网

Charlotte’sWeb(1)|夏洛的网“Where’sPapagoingwiththeax?”saidFerntohermotherastheyweresettingthetableforbreakfast.“Outtothehoghouse,”repliedMrs.Arable.“Somepigswerebornlastnight.”“Idon’tseewhyheneedsanax,”continuedFern,whowasonlyeight.“Well,”saidhermother,“oneofthepigsisarunt2.It’sverysmallandweak,anditwillneveramounttoanything.Soyourfatherhasdecidedtodoawaywithit.”“Doawaywithit?”shriekedFern.“Youmeankillit?Justbecauseit’ssmallerthantheothers?”Mrs.Arableputapitcher3ofcreamonthetable.“Don’tyell,Fern!”shesaid.“Yourfatherisright.Thepigwouldprobablydieanyway.”Fernpushedachairoutofthewayandranoutdoors.Thegrasswaswetandtheearthsmelledofspringtime.Fern’ssneakers4weresopping5bythetimeshecaughtupwithherfather.“Pleasedon’tkillit!”shesobbed.“It’sunfair.”Mr.Arablestoppedwalking.“Fern,”hesaidgently,“youwillhavetolearntocontrolyourself.”“Controlmyself?”yelledFern.“Thisisamatteroflifeanddeath,andyoutalkaboutcontrollingmyself.”Tearsrandownhercheeksandshetookholdoftheaxandtriedtopullitoutofherfather’shand.“Fern,”saidMr.Arable,“Iknowmoreaboutraisingalitter6ofpigsthanyoudo.Aweaklingmakestrouble.Nowrunalong!”“Butit’sunfair,”criedFern.“Thepigcouldn’thelpbeingbornsmall,couldit?IfIhadbeenverysmallatbirth,wouldyouhavekilledme?”Mr.Arablesmiled.“Certainlynot,”hesaid,lookingdownathisdaughterwithlove.“Butthisisdifferent.Alittlegirlisonething;alittleruntypigisanother.”“Iseenodifference,”repliedFern,stillhangingontotheax.“ThisisthemostterriblecaseofinjusticeIeverheardof.”AqueerlookcameoverJohnArable’sface.Heseemedalmostreadytocryhimself.“Allright,”hesaid.“YougobacktothehouseandIwillbringtheruntwhenIcomein.I’llletyoustartitonabottle,likeababy.Thenyou’llseewhattroubleapigcanbe.”WhenMr.Arablereturnedtothehousehalfanhourlater,hecarriedacarton7underhisarm.Fernwasupstairschanginghersneakers.Thekitchentablewassetforbreakfast,andtheroomsmelledofcoffee,bacon,dampplaster,andwoodsmokefromthestove.“Putitonherchair!”saidMrs.Arable.Mr.ArablesetthecartondownatFern’splace.Thenhewalkedtothesink8andwashedhishands.Ferncameslowlydownthestairs.Hereyeswereredfromcrying.Assheapproachedherchair,thecartonwobbled9,andtherewasascratchingnoise10.Fernlookedatherfather.Thensheliftedthelidofthecarton.There,inside,lookingupatherwasthenewbornpig.Itwasawhiteone.Themorninglightshonethroughitsears,turningthempink.“He’syours,”saidMr.Arable.“Savedfromanuntimelydeath.AndmaythegoodLordforgivemeforthisfoolishness.”Ferncouldn’ttakehereyesoffthetinypig.“Oh,”shewhispered.“Oh,lookathim!He’sabsolutelyperfect.”Sheclosedthecartoncarefully.Firstshekissedherfather,andthenshekissedhermother.Thensheopenedthelidagain,liftedthepigout,andhelditagainsthercheek.AtthismomentherbrotherAverycameintotheroom.Averywasten.Hewasheavilyarmed—anairrifleinonehand,awoodendaggerintheother.“What’sthat?”hedemanded.“What’sFerngot?”“She’sgotaguestforbreakfast,”saidMrs.Arable.“Washyourhandsandface,Avery!”“Let’sseeit!”saidAvery,settinghisgundown.“Youcallthatmiserablethingapig?That’safinespecimenofapig-it’snobiggerthanawhiterat.”“Washupandeatyourbreakfast,Avery!”saidhismother.“Theschoolbuswillbealonginhalfanhour.”“CanIhaveapig,too,Pop?”askedAvery.“No,Ionlydistribute11pigstoearlyrisers,”saidMr.Arable.“Fernwasupatdaylight,tryingtoridworldofinjustice.Asaresult,shenowhasapig.Asmallone,tobesure,butneverthelessapig.Itjustshowswhatcanhappenifapersongetsoutofbedpromptly.Let’seat!”ButFerncouldn’teatuntilherpighadhadadrinkofmilk.Mrs.Arablefoundababy’snursingbottleandarubbernipple12.Shepouredwarmmilkintothebottle,fittedthenippleoverthetop,andhandedittoFern.“Givehimhisbreakfast!”shesaid.Aminutelater,Fernwasseatedonthefloorinthecornerofthekitchenwithherinfantbetweenherknees,teachingittosuckfromthebottle.Thepig,althoughtiny,hadagoodappetite13andcaughtonquickly.Theschoolbushonked14fromtheroad.“Run!”commandedMrs.Arable,takingthepigfromFernandslipping15adoughnut16intoherhand.Averygrabbedhisgunandanotherdoughnut.Thechildrenranouttotheroadandclimbedintothebus.Ferntooknonoticeoftheothersinthebus.Shejustsatandstaredoutofthewindow,thinkingwhatablissful17worlditwasandhowluckyshewastohaveentirechargeofapig.Bythetimethebusreachedschool,Fernhadnamedherpet,selectingthemostbeautifulnameshecouldthinkof.“ItsnameisWilbur,”shewhisperedtoherself.Shewasstillthinkingaboutthepigwhentheteachersaid:“Fern,whatisthecapitalofPennsylvania?”“Wilbur,”repliedFern,dreamily.Thepupilsgiggled.Fernblushed.第一章早餐之前“爸爸拿着斧子去哪儿？”收拾桌子准备吃早饭的时候，芬问妈妈。“去猪圈了，”阿拉贝尔太太回答，“昨晚生了几只小猪。”“我不明白他干吗要拿着斧子去，”只有8岁的芬又说。“这个嘛，”她妈妈说道，“有一只小猪先天不良。它太小太弱，没有留下的价值。所以你爸爸要去处理掉。”“处理它？”芬尖叫，“你是说杀了它？就因为它比别的猪个子小？”阿拉贝尔太太把一罐乳酪放到桌上。”别嚷嚷，芬！你爸做得没错。那头猪反正活不了。”芬推开挡在面前的椅子跑出门外。草地湿漉漉的，泥土散发着一股春天的气息。等芬追上爸爸，她的运动鞋都湿透了。“请不要杀它！”她眼泪汪汪地说，“这不公平！”阿拉贝尔先生停下脚步。“芬，”他温和地说，“你得学会控制自己。”“控制自己？”芬大叫，“这可是关系生死的大事！你却对我说什么控制自己！”泪水滚落到芬的脸颊上。她抓住斧头，想把它从爸爸手中夺下来。“芬，”阿拉贝尔先生说，“养小猪的事我比你懂得多。一头体质差的小猪很难养活的。现在你该放我走了！”“可这不公平，”芬哭叫着，“这头猪愿意生下来就弱吗，它能选择吗？要是我生下来时也很瘦小，你就会杀了我吗？”阿拉贝尔先生笑了。“当然不会，”他边说边低下头疼爱地看着女儿，“不过这是两码事。小女孩是一回事，小瘦猪是另一回事儿。”“我看不出有什么两样，”芬回答，仍抓着斧柄不放。“这是我听到过的最恐怖的、最不公平的事！”约翰·阿拉贝尔先生的脸上掠过一丝奇特的表情。他好像也快要哭了。“好吧，”他说，”你先回家吧。我会把那头小猪带回去。让你用奶瓶喂他，像照顾一个婴儿那样。那时你就会明白对付一头小猪