Краткий пересказ tigger comes to the forest and has breakfast

Like all the best beginnings, this one starts with pooh, who has woken up with a start in the middle of the night. he has been woken up by a noise, so he gets up just to check on his honey, and all is fine, so he goes back to bed again. but there's the noise again, so pooh asks the noise if it is piglet or christopher robin or eeyore, but there is no answer, so pooh tries to get back to sleep. but there it is again! it's a kind ofworraworraworraworraworra  noise, which doesn't sound like something piglet or christopher robin or eeyore would say, but pooh is sleepy so that probably explains his confusion. and now he has heard the noise again he realises that it is not a usual noise, and in fact it is something he has never heard in the forest before, which must mean that there is a strange animal outside his house! so pooh rather bravely gets up and opens his front door so that he can tell the strange animal to pipe down please. and the strange animal is sitting right there, so pooh says  "hallo! ", and the animal says  "hallo! "  back. pooh is so startled that all he can think of to say is  "hallo! "  again, and then the animal says  "hallo! "  again too, and then pooh is still rather stunned, so he says  "hallo! "  for a third time, and the animal says  "hallo! "  back for a third time, while wondering how long they are going to  "hallo! "  for.

Ernest Hemingway (1899-1961) was born in Oak Park, Illinois. He is one of America's most famous writers. He received the Nobel Prize for novels and short stories. Hemingway lived a life full of adventure, participating in the First and Second World Wars. He spent a lot of time hunting and fishing. Many of his books are based on such experiences. His favorite theme is courage.

: when I returned, they said that the boy refused to let someone into the room. “You cannot enter,” he said. “You should not get what I have.”
I went to him and found him exactly in the position in which I left him, with a white face, he looked at the other end of the bed. I measured his temperature.
"What is there?"
“Something like a hundred,” I said. It was one hundred two and four tenths. “One hundred and two,” he said.
“Who said that?”
"Doctor."
“Your temperature is all right,” I said. "Nothing to worry about."
“I'm not worried,” he said, “but I can't help but think.”
“Don't think,” I said. “Just calm down.”
“I take it easy,” he said and looked straight ahead. He went on about something with himself.
I sat down and opened pirated books. But I saw that he did not follow, so I stopped
"What time do you think I'll die?" - he asked.
“You are not going to die. What happened to you?"

B. At the bottom, the doctor left three different drugs in different colored capsules with instructions for use.
Returning to the room, I recorded the temperature of the guy and made a note of this time to give various capsules.
“Do you want me to read to you?”
“If you want,” the boy said. His face was very white, and there were dark circles under his eyes. He lay quietly in bed and seemed very detached from what was happening.
I read from the pirate book Howard Pile; but I saw that he did not follow what I read.
“How are you feeling, Schatz?” I asked him.
“Same,” he said, glancing across the bed and looking very strange.
“Why don't you go to sleep? I will wake you up for medicine. ”
“I would rather stay awake.”
A minute later he told me: “You should not stay here with me, Dad, if that bothers you.”
“It doesn't bother me.”
“No, I mean, you shouldn't stay if it bothers you.”
I thought that maybe he was a little raving and after giving him the prescribed capsules at eleven o'clock, I went out for a few minutes.

C. “What's the matter, Schatz?”
"I have a headache."
“You better get back to bed.”
"No. Everything is fine with me."
But when I went downstairs, he was dressed, sitting by the fireplace, looking very sick and unhappy boy of nine years. When I put my hand on his forehead, I realized that he had a temperature.
“Go to bed,” I said, “you are sick.”
When the doctor arrived, he measured the temperature of the boy.
"How many?" I asked him.
"One hundred and two."
Oh yeah. I heard him say one hundred and two. "
“People do not die with a temperature of one hundred and two. This is a dumb way to talk. ”
“I know what they are doing. At a school in France, the guys told me that you cannot live with forty-four degrees. I have one hundred and two. ”
He waited for death all day, from nine in the morning.
“Poor Schatz,” I said. “It's like miles and kilometers. You will not die. This is a different thermometer. Thirty-seven on this thermometer is normal. On this thermometer it's ninety-eight. ”
“Oh,” he said, and slowly relaxed