The early summer days on a farm are the happiest and fairest days of the year. Lilacs bloom and make the air sweet, and then fade. Apple blossoms come with the lilacs, and the bees visit around among the apple trees. The days grow warm and soft. School ends, and children have time to play and to fish for trouts in the brook2. Avery often brought a trout1 home in his pocket, warm and stiff and ready to be fried for supper.
Now that school was over, Fern visited the barn almost every day, to sit quietly on her stool. The animals treated her as an equal. The sheep lay calmly at her feet.
Around the first of July, the work horses were hitched3 to the mowing4 machine, and Mr. Zuckerman climbed into the seat and drove into the field. All morning you could hear the rattle5 of the machine as it went round and round, while the tall grass fell down behind the cutter bar in long green swathes. Next day, if there was no thunder shower, all hands would help rake and pitch and load, and the hay would be hauled to barn in the high hay wagon6, with Fern and Avery riding at the top of the load. Then the hay would be hoisted7, sweet and warm, into the big loft8, until the whole barn seemed like a wonderful bed of timothy and clover. It was fine to jump in, and perfect to hide in. And sometimes Avery would find a little grass snake in the hay, and would add it to the other things in his pocket.
Early summer days are a jubilee9 time for birds. In the fields, around the house, in the barn, in the woods, in the swamp--everywhere love and songs and nests and eggs. From the edge of the woods, the white-throated sparrow(which must come all the way from Boston) calls, "Oh, Peabody, Peabody, Peabody!" On an apple bough10, the phoebe teeters and wags its tail and says, "Phoebe, phoe-bee!" The song sparrow, who knows how brief and lovely life is, says, "Sweet, sweet, sweet interlude; sweet, sweet, sweet interlude." If you enter the barn, the swallows swoop11 down from their nests and scold. "Cheeky, cheeky!" they say.
In early summer there are plenty of things for a child to eat and drink and suck and chew. Dandelion stems are full of milk, clover heads are loaded with nectar, the Frigidaire is full of ice-cold drinks. Everywhere you look is life; even the little ball of spit on the weed stalk, if you poke12 it apart, has a green worm inside it. And on the under side of the leaf of the potato vine are the bright orange eggs of the potato bug13.
It was on a day in early summer that the goose eggs hatched. This was an important event in the barn cellar. Fern was there, sitting on her stool, when it happened.
Except for the goose herself, Charlotte was the first to know that the goslings had at last arrived. The goose knew a day in advance that they were coming--she could hear their weak voices calling from inside the egg. She knew that they were coming. She knew that they were in a desperately14 cramped15 position inside the shell and were most anxious to break through and get out. So she sat quite still, and talked less than usual.
When the first gosling poked16 its grey-green head through the goose's feathers and looked around, Charlotte spied it and made the announcement.
"I am sure," she said," that every one of us here will be gratified to learn that after four weeks of unremitting effort and patience on the part of our friend the goose, she now has something to show for it. The goslings have arrived. May I offer my sincere congratulations!""Thank you, thank you, thank you!" said the goose, nodding and bowing shamelessly.
"Thank you," said the gander.
"Congratulations!" shouted Wilbur. "How many gosling s are there?" I can only see one.""There are seven," said the goose.
"Fine!" said Charlotte. "Seven is a lucky number.""Luck had nothing to do with this," said the goose. "It was good management and hard work."At this point, Templeton showed his nose from his hiding place under Wilbur's trough. He glanced at Fern, then crept cautiously toward the goose, keeping close to the wall. Everyone watched him, for he was not well liked, not trusted.
"Look," he began in his sharp voice, "you say you have seven goslings. There were eight eggs. What happened to the other egg? Why didn't it hatch?""It's a dud, I guess," said the goose.
"What are you going to do with it?" continued Templeton, his little round beady eyes fixed17 on the goose.
"You can have it," replied the goose. "Roll it away and add it to that nasty collection of yours." (Templeton had a habit of picking up unusual objects around the farm and storing them in his home. He saved everything.)"Certainly-ertainly-ertainly," said the gander. "You may have the egg. But I'll tell you one thing, Templeton, if I ever catch you poking-oking-oking your ugly nose around our goslings, I'll give you the worst pounding a rat ever took." And the gander opened his strong wings and beat the air with them to show his power. He was strong and brave, but the truth is, both the goose and the gander were worried about Templeton. And with good reason. The rat had no morals, no conscience, no scruples18, no consideration, no decency19, no milk of rodent20 kindness, no compunctions, no higher feeling, no friendliness21, no anything. He would kill a gosling if he could get away with it--the goose knew that. Everybody knew it.
With her broad bill the goose pushed the unhatched egg out of the nest, and the entire company watched in disgust while the rat rolled it away. Even Wilbur, who could eat almost anything, was appalled22. "Imagine wanting a junky old rotten egg!" he muttered.
"A rat is a rat," said Charlotte. She laughed a tinkling23 little laugh. "But, my friends, if that ancient egg ever breaks, this barn will be untenable.""What's that mean?" asked Wilbur.
"It means nobody will be able to live here on account of the smell. A rotten egg is a regular stink24 bomb.""I won't break it," snarled25 Templeton. "I know what I'm doing. I handle stuff like this all the time."He disappeared into his tunnel, pushing the goose egg in front of him. He pushed and nudged till he succeeded in rolling it to his lair26 under the trough.
That afternoon, when the wind had died down and the barnyard was quiet and warm, the grey goose led her seven goslings off the nest and out into the world. Mr. Zucherman spied them when he came with Wilbur's supper.
"Well, hello there!" he said, smiling all over. "Let's see...one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven baby geese. Now isn't that lovely!"
农场的初夏，是一年中最快乐最美好的时候。紫丁香开花了，把空气薰得又苦又香。等到丁香花开败了，苹果花就露出了笑脸。这时候，蜂儿们就会成群地到苹果树中间来观光了。天气渐渐变暖了。学校放假了，孩子们也更有空儿去玩耍，或者去小河里抓鳟鱼了。埃弗里经常兜里揣着一条鳟鱼回家，准备在晚饭时把它们煎着吃。
既然放了假，芬就有更时间去参观谷仓了。她几乎每天都去，静静地坐在她的小凳上观察着。动物们已经把她当自己人看待了。绵羊安静地躺在她的脚边，一点儿也不怕。
差不多在七月的第一天，祖克曼先生便开始把割草机套在马的脖子上，自己跳进座位里，赶着马往田野里去了。整个的早晨你都能听到割草机转来转去的嘎嘎声，看到高高的草渐渐的在长条割刀的后面排起了长长的绿行的情景。第二天，如果没有雷阵雨，所有的人就会来帮着用耙子把割下来的草收拢到一起，装上高高的干草车往谷仓拉，芬和埃弗里则坐到了车的最顶上。然后，暖暖的散发着清香的干草会被卸进大阁楼，直到堆得整个谷仓看起来像无数的筒状草与苜蓿铺起的奇妙的大床一样。如果你跳上去，一定感觉很舒服，躲到里面也没人看得见。偶尔，来这里玩的埃弗里能在干草堆里找到一条可爱的小草蛇，便把它和兜里的别的宝贝装到一起。
初夏简直是鸟儿们的狂欢节。在田野间，房子四周，谷仓里，树林中，湿地上——到处都有欢爱，歌声，鸟巢和鸟蛋。白喉雀（从波士顿飞来的）在树林边叫，“啊，皮儿剥，皮儿剥，皮儿剥！”在苹果树杈间，京燕颤巍巍地晃着尾巴走来走去，嘴里喊着：“波碧，波儿-碧！”深知生命是多么可爱和短促百灵鸟说，“快乐的，快乐的偷闲！快乐的，快乐的，快乐的偷闲。”如果你来到谷仓，就会听见燕子们从他们的巢里一头扎过去叱责。“无耻，无耻！”他们说。
初夏里有很多孩子们喜欢吃，喝，吮，嚼的好东西。蒲公英的花梗里都是乳汁，苜蓿花的芯里盛满了琼浆，冰箱里放了那么多冰凉的饮料。到处都是勃勃的生机，甚至粘在草茎上的小雪球里，也会躺着一只小绿虫，如果你把它捅开的话。在土豆枝叶的下面，还有鲜橙色的薯虫蛋呢。
初夏的某天，小鹅们被孵出来了。在谷仓的地窖里，这可算一件大事情。当时，芬正在她的凳子上坐着呢。
除了母鹅之外，夏洛是第一个得知小鹅出世的消息的。母鹅头一天就知道小鹅们快要出来了——她听到了蛋壳里传出的微弱叫声。她知道他们已经在里面呆不安稳，急着打破蛋壳出来走走了。于是她就静静地坐着，话也比平时少多了。
当第一只小鹅从鹅妈妈的羽毛里探出灰绿的小脑袋，开始四处观望时，夏洛第一个瞥见了他，并发布了一个声明。
“我相信，”她说，“我们中的每一位都将高兴地获悉，经过四周的不懈努力与耐心的等待，我们的朋友母鹅终于取得了骄人的成绩。小鹅出世了。请让我在这里衷心地表示祝贺！”
“谢谢你，谢谢你，谢谢你！”母鹅点点头，不好意思地鞠了一躬。
“谢谢你，”公鹅说。
“祝贺！”威伯喊。“一共有几只小鹅？我只看见一只呀。”
“有七个，”母鹅说。
“太好了！”夏洛说，“七是个幸运数字。”
“这可与什么幸运无关，”母鹅说。“这需要很好的筹划和辛苦的劳动。”
这时，坦普尔曼从他在威伯食槽下的藏身处露出了鼻子。他偷看了芬一眼，然后贴着墙小心地朝母鹅这边溜过来。大家都警惕地看着他，因为他既不讨人喜欢，也不被人相信。
“看，”他尖细地叫起来，“你说你有了七只小鹅。可共有八只蛋呢。第八只蛋怎么了？你没有孵吗？”
“它是只坏蛋，我猜，”母鹅说。
“你将怎么处理它？”坦普尔曼那圆溜溜的小眼珠盯向母鹅，继续说道。
“你可以把它带走，”母鹅回答。“把它滚到你那些肮脏的收藏品里去吧。”（坦普尔曼有把农场里没人要的东西收藏到家里的习惯。他什么都收藏。）
“当然-然-然，”公鹅说。“你可以拿走这只蛋。但我有件事要告诉你，坦普尔曼，如果我发现你把你那丑陋的鼻子伸-伸-伸到我们的小鹅身边的话，我就会给你一记一只耗子从来没受过的重拳。”说着，公鹅张开他强壮的翅膀，用它们使劲扑打着空气，好让老鼠看看他是多么的孔武有力。他虽然既结实又勇猛，但事实上，母鹅和公鹅还是有对坦普尔曼担心的充分理由。这只耗子不讲道义，没同情心，无所顾忌，不顾他人，没有品德，没有啮齿类动物的仁慈心肠，从不会良心不安，毫无高尚情感，没有友情，什么好的地方都没有。如果可以逃脱惩罚，他就会杀死小鹅的——母鹅深知这一点。大家也知道。
母鹅用她扁扁的嘴巴把那只没有孵出来的蛋推到了她的巢外，全体的伙伴都带着憎恶的表情看着耗子把它搬走。甚至连几乎什么都吃的威伯见此情景也感到恶心。“想想吧，竟有人愿意要一只臭烘烘的破蛋！”他嘟囔着。
“老鼠不愧为老鼠。”夏洛的笑声好像风里的铃儿一样。”但是，我的朋友，如果这只蛋被打碎了，这个谷仓就会让人受不了的。”
“那是什么意思？”威伯问。
“这就是说那传出的气味会薰得我们无法在这里住下去的。一只坏了的蛋通常都是非常臭的。”
“我不会弄破它的，”坦普尔曼气恼地说。“我知道我在干什么。我可是常搬这类东西的。”
他推着面前的鹅蛋钻进了他的地道。他小心地把蛋滚着，直到安全到达他在猪食槽下的窝。
那天下午，当风渐弱，谷仓里变得又静又暖的时，灰色的母鹅把她的七只小鹅领到了巢外的世界。祖克曼先生在给威伯送晚饭时看到了他们。
“哈，那是什么！”他笑着说，“让我来看看……一、二、三、四、五、六、七。七只鹅宝宝。它们多可爱呀！”
收听单词发音 |
1
trout
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| n.鳟鱼；鲑鱼(属) | |
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brook
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| n.小河，溪；v.忍受，容让 | |
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hitched
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| （免费）搭乘他人之车( hitch的过去式和过去分词 )； 搭便车； 攀上； 跃上 | |
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mowing
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| n.割草，一次收割量，牧草地v.刈，割( mow的现在分词 ) | |
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rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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wagon
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| n.四轮马车，手推车，面包车；无盖运货列车 | |
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hoisted
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| 把…吊起，升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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loft
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| n.阁楼，顶楼 | |
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jubilee
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| n.周年纪念；欢乐 | |
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bough
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| n.大树枝，主枝 | |
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swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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bug
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| n.虫子；故障；窃听器；vt.纠缠；装窃听器 | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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poked
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| v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 )；戳出；拨弄；与（某人）性交 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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scruples
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| n.良心上的不安( scruple的名词复数 )；顾虑，顾忌v.感到于心不安，有顾忌( scruple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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decency
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| n.体面，得体，合宜，正派，庄重 | |
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rodent
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| n.啮齿动物；adj.啮齿目的 | |
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friendliness
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| n.友谊，亲切，亲密 | |
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appalled
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| v.使惊骇，使充满恐惧( appall的过去式和过去分词)adj.惊骇的；丧胆的 | |
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tinkling
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| n.丁当作响声 | |
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stink
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| vi.发出恶臭；糟透，招人厌恶；n.恶臭 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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lair
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| n.野兽的巢穴；躲藏处 | |
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