The next day was rainy and dark. Rain fell on the roof of the barn and dripped steadily1 from the ea
ves. Rain fell in the barnyard and ran in crooked2 courses down into the lane where thistles and pig
weed grew. Rain spattered against Mrs. Zuckerman's kitchen windows and came gushing3 out of the down
spouts. Rain fell on the backs of the sheep as they grazed in the meadow. When the sheep tired of st
anding4 in the rain, they walked slowly up the lane and into the fold.
Rain upset Wilbur's plans. Wilbur had planned to go out, this day, and dig a new hole in his yard. H
e had other plans, too. His plans for the day went something like this:
Breakfast at six-thirty. Skim milk, crusts, middlings, bits of doughnuts, wheat cakes with drops of
maple5 syrup6 sticking to them, potato skins, leftover7 custard pudding with raisins8, and bits of S
hredded9 Wheat.
Breakfast would be finished at seven.
From seven to eight, Wilbur planned to have a talk with Templeton, the rat that lived under his trou
gh. Talking with Templeton was not the most interesting occupation in the world but it was better th
an nothing.
From eight to nine, Wilbur planned to take a nap outdoors in the sun.
From nine to eleven he planned to dig a hole, or trench10, and possibly find something good to eat b
uried in the dirt.
From eleven to twelve he planned to stand still and watch flies on the boards, watch bees in the clo
ver, and watch swallows in the air.
Twelve o'clock-lunchtime. Middlings, warm water, apple parings, meat gravy11, carrot scrapings, meat
scraps13, stale hominy, and the wrapper off a package of cheese. Lunch would be over at one.
From one to two, Wilbur planned to sleep.
From two to three, he planned to scratch itchy places by rubbing against the fence.
From three to four, he planned to stand perfectly14 still and think of what it was like to be alive,
and to wait for Fern.
At four would come supper. Skim milk, provender15, leftover sandwich from Lurvy's lunchbox, prune16
skins, a morsel17 of this, a bit of that, fried potatoes, marmalade drippings, a little more of this
, a little more of that, a piece of baked apple, a scrap12 of upside down cake.
Wilbur had gone to sleep thinking about these plans. He awoke at six and saw the rain, and it seemed
as though he couldn't bear it.
"I get every thing all beautifully planned out and it has to go and rain," he said.
For a while he stood gloomily indoors. Then he walked to the door and looked out. Drops of rain stru
ck his face. His yard was cold and wet. his trough had and inch of rainwater in it. Templeton was no
where to be seen.
"Are you out there, Templeton?" called Wilbur. There was no answer. Suddenly Wilbur felt lonely and
friendless.
"One day just like another," he groaned18. "I'm very young, I have no real friend here in the barn,
it's going to rain all morning and all afternoon, and Fern won't come in such bad weather. Oh, hones
tly!" And Wilbur was crying again, for the second time in two days.
At six-thirty Wilbur heard the banging of a pail. Lurvy was standing outside in the rain, stirring u
p breakfast.
"C'mon, pig!" said Lurvy.
Wilbur did not budge19. Lurvy dumped the slops, scraped the pail and walked away. He noticed that so
mething was wrong with the pig.
Wilbur didn't want food, he wanted love. He wanted a friend--someone who would play with him. He men
tioned this to the goose, who was sitting quietly in a corner of the sheepfold.
"Will you come over and play with me?" he asked.
"Sorry, sonny, sorry," said the goose. "I'm sitting-sitting on my eggs. Eight of them. Got to keep t
hem toasty-oasty-oasty warm. I have to stay right here, I'm no flibberty-ibberty-gibbet. I do not pl
ay when there are eggs to hatch. I'm expecting goslings."
"Well, I didn't think you were expecting wood-peckers," said Wilbur, bitterly.
Wilbur next tried one of the lambs.
"Will you please play with me?" he asked.
"Certainly not," said the lamb. "In the first place, I cannot get into your pen, as I am not old eno
ugh to jump over the fence. In the second place, I am not interested in pigs. Pigs mean less than no
thing to me."#p#分页标题#e#
"What do you mean, less than nothing?" replied Wilbur. "I don't think there is any such thing as les
s than nothing. Nothing is absolutely the limit of nothingness. It's the lowest you can go. It's the
end of the line. How can something be less than nothing? If there were something that was less than
nothing, then nothing would not be nothing, it would be something--even though it's just a very lit
tle bit of something. But if nothing is nothing, then nothing has nothing that is less than it is."
"Oh, be quiet!" said the lamb. "Go play by yourself! I don't play with pigs.
Sadly, Wilbur lay down and listened to the rain. Soon he saw the rat climbing down a slanting20 boar
d that he used as a stairway.
"Will you play with me, Templeton?" asked Wilbur.
"Play?" said Templeton, twirling his whiskers. "Play? I hardly know the meaning of the word."
"Well," said Wilbur, "it means to have fun, to frolic, to run and skip and make merry."
"I never do those things if I can avoid them, " replied the rat, sourly. "I prefer to spend my time
eating, gnawing21, spying, and hiding. I am a glutton22 but not a merry-maker. Right now I am on my
way to your trough to eat your breakfast, since you haven't got sense enough to eat it yourself." An
d Templeton, the rat, crept stealthily along the wall and disappeared into a private tunnel that he
had dug between the door and the trough in Wilbur's yard. Templeton was a crafty23 rat, and he had t
hings pretty much his own way. The tunnel was an example of his skill and cunning. The tunnel enable
d him to get from the barn to his hiding place under the pig trough without coming out into the open
. He had tunnels and runways all over Mr. Zuckerman's farm and could get from one place to another w
ithout being seen. Usually he slept during the daytime and was abroad only after dark.
Wilbur watched him disappear into his tunnel. In a moment he saw the rat's sharp nose poke24 out fro
m underneath25 the wooden trough. Cautiously Templeton pulled himself up over the edge of the trough
. This was almost more than Wilbur could stand: on this dreary26, rainy day to see his breakfast bei
ng eaten by somebody else. He knew Templeton was getting soaked, out there in the pouring rain, but
even that didn't comfort him. Friendless, dejected, and hungry, he threw himself down in the manure2
7 and sobbed28.
Late that afternoon, Lurvy went to Mr. Zuckerman. "I think there's something wrong with that pig of
yours. He hasn't touched his food."
"Give him two spoonfuls of sulphur and a little molasses," said Mr. Zuckerman.
Wilbur couldn't believe what happening to him when Lurvy caught him and forced the medicine down his
throat. This was certainly the worst day of his life. He didn't know whether he could endure the aw
ful loneliness any more.
Darkness settled over everything. Soon there were only shadows and the noises of the sheep chewing t
heir cuds, and occasionally the rattle29 of a cow-chain up overhead. You can imagine Wilbur's surpri
se when, out of the darkness, came a small voice he had never heard before. It sounded rather thin,
but pleasant. "Do you want a friend, Wilbur?" it said. "I'll be a friend to you. I've watched you al
l day and I like you."
"But I can't see you," said Wilbur, jumping to his feet. "Where are you? And who are you?"
"I'm right up here," said the voice. "Go to sleep. You'll see me in the morning."