Little Robby, our neighbour's nephew, carefully drew some water into a bowl and started for the door. How I hated this water rationing  . We were forced to bathe in the deep little pond we shared with Jessie, our cow. Wells were dry, and crops transformed to dust. I watched Robby sitting down onto the steps to my house. Bees buzzed circling his hair, and he buzzed with them. I remembered his aunt's words: I don't know what I was thinking when I took him in. The crash killed my sister, and he wasn't hurt, but he can't talk. He's in a world of all his own. Why couldn't she see _ this boy possessed? He was blessed with a loving nature and a deep admiration for all living things, and I knew he could talk to animals. My heart ached for Robby, who was to stay with us for the summer, and had already been the dearest part of our world, eagerly tending the garden with me and my husband, Tom. On a string around Robby's neck hung a whistle, in case he was ever lost or in danger. After all, he could not call out for help. But he knew perfectly well that the whistle was not a toy. Blowing 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 cleared up the last supper dish. Every ounce of recycled water was saved for a tiny vegetable garden Robby had planted. Tom turned to me. "You know, honey, I've been thinking about..." Before he could continue, a scream from the yard made us jump. My God! It's Robby's whistle! When we reached him, he was pointing excitedly to the sky. Looking up, we saw the most magnificent sight: Rain Clouds! "Robby! Quick! We need all the pots and pans!" Robby raced with me to the house. A drop of water fell 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 comfort of it. Tom picked up Robby and danced about the pots, shouting and whooping, "Rain for Robby!" Tom swung about to show me Robby's face: he was laughing right out loud, "W-W-Wobby's!" "Wobby's ... wain ... Mom," giggling , and stretching out one tiny hand in the shape of a cup to catch the rain. I hugged them both, tears of joy mixing with the rain. It was because   _   that the author and her husband would run on hearing the whistle.
it was going to rain Robby often surprised us with his whistle something bad might happen to Robby. Robby might find something special