Little Robby, our neighbor’s nephew, carefully spooned some of his water ration into a saucer1 and started for the door. How I hated this water rationing. We were forced to bathe without soap in the deep little pond we shared with Jessie, our cow. She was all we had now. Wells were dry, crops transformed to dust and blew away with our dreams, during the worst drought our small farming community had ever seen.
I held the screen open for Robby and watched, smiling, as he slowly sat on the steps. Dozens of bees circled his tousled2 brown curls in an angel’s halo3. He imitated their buzzing, which brought them to the saucer to sip the precious liquid.
His aunt’s words echoed in my ears:
“I don’t know what I was thinking when I took him in. Doctors say he wasn’t hurt in the crash4 that killed my sister, but he can’t talk. Oh, he makes noises all right, but they aren’t human. He’s in a world all his own, that boy, not like my children at all.”
Why couldn’t she see the wonderful gifts this four-year-old boy possessed? My heart ached for Robby. He had become the dearest part of our world, eagerly tending the garden with me and riding the tractor or pitching5 hay with my husband, Tom. He was blessed with a loving nature and a deep admiration for all living things, and I knew he could talk to animals.
We rejoiced in discoveries he joyfully shared with us. His inquisitive6 and often impish7 brown eyes mirrored an understanding of everything verbal8. I longed to adopt him. His aunt had hinted often enough. We even called ourselves Mom and Dad to Robby, and before the drought had discussed adoption. But times were so bleak9 now that I couldn’t approach the subject with Tom.
Robby’s aunt eagerly agreed to our request that he would live with us for the summer. All his days were spent in our company anyway. I brushed away a tear, remembering how tiny and helpless he looked when she hastily put his hand in mine and gave me a rumpled brown paper bag. It contained two faded T-shirts we had bought him last year at the county fair and a hand-me-down pair of shorts. This and the clothes he wore were his only belongings, with the exception of one prized possession.
On a silken cord around his neck dangled10 a hand-carved whistle. Tom had made it for him in case he was ever lost or in danger. After all, he could not call out for help. He knew perfectly well that the whistle was not a toy. It was for emergencies only, and to blow on it would bring us both running. I had told him the story of the boy who cried wolf, and I knew he understood me.
I sighed as I dried and put away the last supper dish. Tom came into the kitchen and picked up the dishpan. Every ounce of recycled water was saved for a tiny vegetable garden Robby had planted beside the porch11. He was so proud of it, we tried desperately to save it. But without rain soon, it would be lost, too. Tom put the pan on the counter and turned to me.
“You know, honey,” he started, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Robby lately.”
My heart began to pound in anticipation12, but before he could continue, a shrill blast from the yard made us jump. My God! It’s Robby’s whistle! By the time we reached the door, the whistle was blowing at a feverish pace. Visions of a rattlesnake13 filled my head as we raced into the yard. When we reached him, Robby was pointing frantically14 skyward, and we couldn’t pry15 the whistle from his grip.
Looking up, we saw the most magnificent sight. Rain clouds-gigantic rain clouds with black, ominous16 bottoms!
“Robby! Help me, quickly! We need all the pots and pans from the kitchen!”
The whistle dropped from his lips and he raced with me to the house. Tom ran for the barn17 to drag out an old washtub. When all the containers were placed in the yard, Robby ran back to the house. He emerged with three wooden spoons from my kitchen drawer and handed one to each of us. He picked up my big stock pot and sat down cross-legged. Turning it over, he began to beat a rhythm with his spoon. Tom and I each reached for a pot and joined in.
“Rain for Robby! Rain for Robby!” I chanted18 with each beat.
A drop of water splashed on my pot and then another. Soon the yard was enveloped in soaking, glorious rain. We all stood with faces held upward to feel the absolute luxury of it. Tom picked up Robby and danced about the pots, shouting and whooping19. That’s when I heard it—softly at first—then louder and louder: the most marvelous, boisterous20, giggling laughter. Tom swung about to show me Robby’s face. With head tilted back, he was laughing right out loud! I hugged them both, tears of joy mixing with the rain. Robby released his grip from Tom and clutched21 my neck.
“W-W-Wobby’s!” he stammered22. Stretching out one tiny cupped hand to catch the downpour, he giggled again. “Wobby’s...rain...Mom,” he whispered.
小罗比是我们邻居的外甥。此刻，他正小心翼翼地用勺子把定量分给他的水舀进一个茶碟里，然后，端起茶碟向门口走去。对于目前限制用水的规定，我真是憎恨极了！由于缺水，我们不得不和我们家的母牛杰茜共同“享用”一个不大的但是很深的池塘洗澡，而且还不能使用肥皂。目前，杰茜是我们惟一的财产。这次干旱是我们这个小村子有史以来所经历的最严重的一次了，村里所有的井都干涸了，农作物都干得变成了灰尘，风一吹，就和我们的梦想一起被吹得远远的了。
我微笑地注视着小罗比，并轻轻地帮他把纱门打开。他慢慢地走到门外，坐在门口的台阶上。许多蜜蜂飞到他的身边，在他那长着一头乱蓬蓬的、褐色卷发的头顶上盘旋着，那情景就仿佛是罩在天使的光环里。小罗比双手捧着那个装着水的小茶碟，嘴里摹仿着蜜蜂的“嗡嗡”声，呼唤着它们来饮用这珍贵的水。
看着小罗比那天真可爱的样子，他姨妈的话又在我的耳边回响起来：“我真不知道当初我是怎么想的，竟然会把他带回家。那次车祸中，虽然我的妹妹死了，但是，医生说这孩子并没有受伤，可是，他却不会说话了！哦，不，他虽然不会说话，但是却能发出一些奇怪的声音，当然，那不是人的声音。这孩子，现在只活在他自己的世界里，一点儿也不像我的孩子们。”
为什么她竟然看不见这个四岁小男孩所拥有的天赋呢？在我为小罗比感到痛心的同时，他成了我们家中最亲爱的人。他总是兴高采烈地和我一起料理花园，和我丈夫汤姆一起驾驶着拖拉机或者和他一起堆放干草。他天生就充满爱心，而且喜欢所有的生物，我知道他能和动物们沟通。
我们欣喜地发现，小罗比总是高兴地和我们分享着一切。他那双充满着好奇和灵气的褐色眼睛仿佛告诉我们，他能听懂我们所说的一切。我很想收养他，他的姨妈也经常这么暗示我。而我们甚至都自称为罗比的爸爸和妈妈，并且，在这次旱灾发生之前，我们曾经讨论过收养他的事。但是，眼看着今年的景况这么差，我不忍心再和汤姆谈论这件事。
今年夏天，当我们提出让小罗比和我们一起住一段日子的时候，没想到他姨妈非常爽快地答应了。反正他早就成了我们生活的一部分了。但是，每当我想起他的姨妈将他的小手和一个皱巴巴的牛皮纸袋交给我的时候，他是那么地弱小，那么地无助，我的泪水就情不自禁地流了下来。在那个牛皮纸袋里，装的是两件已经褪色的T恤衫，那是我们去年在乡村集市上买给他的，除此之外，里面还有一条破旧的短裤。所有这些以及他身上穿着的衣服就是他全部的家当，再就是他曾经获得的一个奖品。
那是一个手工雕刻的哨子，用一根柔软光滑的小绳子系着，挂在小罗比的脖子上。那是汤姆做给他的，让他在迷路或者遇到危险的时候用。毕竟，他不能用嘴巴高喊救命。他也非常清楚这个哨子并不是一件玩具，只有在遇到紧急情况的时候，才可以吹响它，以便我们能够及时赶去帮助他。为了让他能够容易理解，我还为他讲了《狼来了》的故事，看着他扑闪着大眼睛，全神贯注地听着的神态，我知道他能听懂我的话。
我一边将最后一个晚餐用的盘子擦干放好，一边叹了口气。这时，汤姆走进厨房，端起了洗碗用的盆。对每一盎司用过的水，我们都会把它储存起来，用来浇灌罗比在门廊旁边开垦的小菜园。说起这个小菜园，罗比一直都感到非常自豪。因此，我们总是千方百计地去保住它。但是，如果老天爷还不下雨的话，那么，它也很难保得住了。汤姆把洗碗盆放在台子上，然后，转过身来，目不转睛地注视着我。
“哦，亲爱的，你知道吗？"他说，"最近，我一直都在想小罗比的事。”
听他这么一说，顿时，我仿佛看到了希望，心也按捺不住“咚、咚、咚”地跳将起来。然而，还没等汤姆继续说下去，突然，院子里传来了一声刺耳的哨声，我和汤姆立马从椅子上跳了起来，连忙向门外跑去。天啊！那是罗比的哨声！当我们跑到门口的时候，那哨声正一阵紧似一阵，让人感到狂躁不安。当我们跑到院子里的时候，我仿佛看到有一条响尾蛇正吐着信子在一步一步地逼向罗比。而当我们跑到他身边的时候，只见他嘴里仍旧不停地吹着哨子，手指发疯似地指着天空。而我们却无法把哨子从他的嘴里拿下来。
抬头一看，我们看见了最壮观的景色——积雨云，巨大的、乌黑的积雨云！啊！恶兆就要过去了！
“罗比！快来帮帮我！快来帮我到厨房把锅碗瓢盆都拿来！”
顿时，罗比把哨子从嘴里拿了下来，然后，和我一起跑进了屋子。汤姆则跑进谷仓，拖出了一个旧洗衣盆。当我们把所有的容器，什么盆啦、罐啦、锅啦、桶啦等都摆在了院子里的时候，罗比又跑回了屋子。接着，他从厨房的抽屉里拿来三把木制的勺子，并且发给我们每人一把。然后，他拿起我的那大汤锅，盘腿坐了下来，并且，把它翻了过来，用木勺开始有节奏地敲了起来。汤姆和我也各自拿起一个汤罐，和罗比一起有节奏地敲起来。
“哦！老天爷！快下雨吧！快为罗比下雨吧！”我边敲边唱。
唱着唱着，果然，一滴雨滴到了我的汤罐上，接着，又是一滴。很快，整个院子都笼罩在滂沱的大雨中了。此刻，我们都站了起来，抬起头仰望着天空，尽情地享受着这清凉的雨水。然后，汤姆举起罗比，绕着盆盆罐罐，在雨中高兴地又叫又跳。就在这时，我听到了﹑第一次听到了一个轻轻的声音--然后，这个声音越来越大，越来越大：那是最不可思议的、最兴高采烈的“咯、咯、咯”的笑声。汤姆转过身来，让我看看罗比的脸。只见他的头正向后仰着，咧着嘴大声地笑呀笑的！看着这激动人心的一幕，我情不自禁地张开双臂，紧紧地拥抱着他们两个，兴奋的泪水和雨水混合在一起，流满了整个脸颊。这时，罗比松开紧抱着汤姆的小手，而紧紧地搂住了我的脖子。
“罗……罗……罗……罗比的雨！”他一边结结巴巴地叫着，一边伸出一只小手，凹成杯形，接着雨水。然后，他痴痴地笑着，小声说：“妈妈，这是罗比的雨。”
1. saucer n. 茶碟
2. tousle v. 弄乱（头发等）
3. halo n. （绘于神像头上的）光环
4. crash n. 碰撞，撞坏
5. pitch v. 投，掷
6. inquisitive adj. 好询问的，好奇的
7. impish adj. 顽皮的
8. verbal adj. 言语的，字句的
9. bleak adj. 凄凉的，惨淡的
10. dangle v. 使摇晃地挂着
11. porch n. 门廊
12. anticipation n. 预期，期望
13. rattlesnake n. 响尾蛇
14. frantically adv. （因愤怒﹑痛苦﹑悲哀或快乐等而）激动得发狂似地
15. pry [prai] v. 撬动，撬起
16. ominous adj. 不祥的，不吉的
17. barn n. 谷仓
18. chant v. 唱
19. whoop v. 高喊，呐喊
20. boisterous adj. 兴高采烈的
21. clutch v. 抓住，攫住
22. stammer v. 结结巴巴地说