Next
morning when the first light came into the sky and the sparrows stirred in the
trees, when the cows rattled their chains and the rooster crowed and the early
automobiles went whispering along the road, Wilbur awoke and looked for
Charlotte. He saw her up overhead in a corner near the back of his pen. she was
very quiet. Her eight legs were spread wide. She seemed to have shrunk during
the night. Next to her, attached to the ceiling, Wilbur saw a curious object.
It was a sort of sac, or cocoon. It was peach-colored and looked as though it
were made of cotton candy.
"Are you awake,
Charlotte?" he said softly.
"Yes," came
the answer.
"What is that
nifty little thing? Did you make it?""I did indeed," replied
Charlotte in a weak voice.
"Is it a
plaything?""Plaything? I should say not. It is my egg sac, my magnum
opus.""I don't know what a magnum opus is," said Wilbur.
"That
Latin," explained Charlotte. "It means 'great work.' This egg sac i
smy great work--the finest thing I have ever made.""What's inside
it?" asked Wilbur. "Eggs?""Five hundred and fourteen of
them," she replied.
"Five hundred
and fourteen? said Wilbur. "You're kidding.""No, I'm not. I
counted them. I got started counting, so I kept on--just to keep my mind
occupied.""It's a perfectly beautiful egg sac," said Wilbur,
feeling as happy as though he had constructed it himself.
"Yes, it is
pretty," replied Charlotte, patting the sac with her two front legs.
"Anyway, I can guarantee that it is strong. It's made out of the toughest
material I have. It's made out of the toughest material I have. It is also
waterproof. The eggs are inside and will be warm and
dry.""Charlotte," said Wilbur dreamily, "are you really
going to have five hundred and fourteen children?""If nothing
happens, yes," she said. "Of course, they won't show up till next spring."
Wilbur noticed that Charlotte's voice sounded sad.
"What makes you
sound so down-hearted? I should think you'd be terribly happy about
this.""Oh, don't pay any attention to me," said Charlotte.
"I just don't have much pep any more. I guess I feel sad because I won't
ever see my children.""What do you mean you won't see your children!
Of course you will. We'll all see them. It's going to be simply wonderful next
spring in the barn cellar with five hundred and fourteen baby spiders running
around all over the place. and the geese will have a new set of goslings, and
the sheep will have their new lambs...""Maybe," said Charlotte
quietly. "However, I have a feeling I'm not going to see the results of
last night's efforts. I don't feel good at all. I think I'm languishing, to
tell you the truth."Wilbur didn't understand the word "languish"
and he hated to bother Charlotte by asking her to explain. But he was so
worried he felt he had to ask.
"What does
'languishing' mean?""It means I'm slowing up, feeling my age. I'm not
young any more, Wilbur. But I don't want you to worry about me. This is your
big day today. Look at my web--doesn't it show up well with the dew on
it?""Charlotte's web never looked more beautiful than it looked this
morning. Each strand held dozens of bright drops of early morning dew. The
light from the east struck it and made it plain and clear. It was a perfect
piece of designing and building. In another hour or two, a steady stream of
people would pass by, admiring it, and reading it, and looking at Wilbur, and
marveling at the miracle.
As Wilbur was
studying the web, a pair of whiskers and a sharp face appeared. Slowly
Templeton dragged himself across the pen and threw himself down in a corner.
"I'm back,"
he said in a husky voice. "What a night!"The rat was swollen to twice
his normal size. His stomach was as big around as a jelly jar.
"What a
night!" he repeated, hoarsely. "What feasting and carousing! A real
gorge! I must have eaten the remains of thirty lunches. Never have I seen such
leavings, and everything well-ripened and seasoned with the passage of time and
the heat of the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends, rich!""You ought to
be ashamed of yourself," said Charlotte in disgust. "It would serve
you right if you had an acute attack of indigestion.""Don't worry about
my stomach," snarled Templeton. "It can handle anything. and by the
way, I've got some bad news. As I came past that pig next door--the one that
calls himself Uncle--I noticed a blue tag on the front of his pen. That means
he has won first prize. I guess you're licked, Wilbur. You might as well
relax--nobody is going to hang any medal on you. Furthermore, I wouldn't be
surprised if Zuckerman changes his mind about you. wait till he gets hankering
for some fresh pork and smoked ham and crisp bacon! He'll take the knife to
you, my boy.""Be still, Templeton!" said Charlotte. "You're
too stuffed and bloated to know what you're saying. Don't pay any attention to
him, Wilbur!"Wilbur tried not to think about what the rat had just said.
He decided to change the subject.
"Templeton,"
said Wilbur, "if you weren't so dopey, you would have noticed that
Charlotte has made an egg sac. She is going to become a mother. For your
information, there are five hundred and fourteen eggs in that peachy little
sac.""Is this true?" asked the rat, eyeing the sac suspiciously.
"Yes, it's
true," sighed Charlotte.
"Congratulations1"
murmured Templeton. "This has been a night!" He closed his eyes,
pulled some straw over himself, and dropped off into a deep sleep. Wilbur and
Charlotte were glad to be rid of him for a while.
At nine o'clock, Mr.
Arable's truck rolled into the Fair Grounds and came to a stop at Wilbur's pen.
Everybody climbed out.
"Look!"
cried Fern. "Look at Charlotte's web1 Look what it says!"The grownups
and the children joined hands and stood there, studying the new sign.
"'Humble,'"
said Mr. Zuckerman. "Now isn't that just the word for
Wilbur!"Everyone rejoiced to find that the miracle of the web had been
repeated. Wilbur gazed up lovingly into their faces. He looked very humble and
very grateful. Fern winked at Charlotte. Lurvy soon got busy. He poured a
bucket of warm slops into the trough, and while Wilbur ate his breakfast Lurvy
scratched him gently with a smooth stick.
"Wait a
minute!" cried Avery. "Look at this!" he pointed to the blue tag
on Uncle's pen. "this pig has won first prize already."The Zuckermans
and the Arables stared at the tag. Mrs. Zuckerman began to cry. Nobody said a
word. the just stared at the tag. Then they stared at Uncle. Then they stared
at the tag again. Lurvy took out an enormous handkerchief and blew his nose
very loud--so loud, in fact, that the noise was heard by stableboys over at the
horse barn.
"Can I have some
money?" asked Fern. "I want to go out on the midway.""You
stay right where you are1" said her mother. Tears came to Fern's eyes.
"What's
everybody crying about?" asked Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's get busy! Edith,
bring the buttermilk!"Mrs. Zuckerman wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.
She went to the truck and came back with a gallon jar of buttermilk.
"Bath
time!" said Zuckerman, cheerfully. He and Mrs. Zuckerman and Avery climbed
into Wilbur's pen. Avery slowly poured buttermilk on Wilbur's head and back,
and as it trickled down his sides and cheeks, Mr. and Mrs. Zuckerman rubbed it
into his hair and skin. Passersby stopped to watch. Pretty soon quite a crowd
had gathered. Wilbur grew beautifully white and smooth. The morning sun shone through
his pink ears.
"He isn't as big
as that pig next door," remarked one bystander, "but he's cleaner.
That's what I like.""So do I," said another man.
"He's humble,
too," said a woman, reading the sign on the web.
"Everybody who
visited the pigpen had a good word to say about Wilbur. Everyone admired the
web. And of course nobody noticed Charlotte.
Suddenly a voice was
heard on the loud speaker.
"Attention,
please!" it said. "Will Mr. Homer Zuckerman bring his famous pig to
the judges' booth in promptly!"For a moment after this announcement, the
Arables and the Zuckermans were unable to speak or move. Then Avery picked up a
handful of straw and threw it high in the air and gave a loud yell. The straw
fluttered sown like confetti into Fern's hair. Mr. Zuckerman hugged Mrs.
Zuckerman. Mr. Arable kissed Mrs. Avery kissed Wilbur. Lurvy shook hands with
everybody. Fern hugged her mother. Avery hugged Fern. Mrs. Arable hugged Mrs.
Zuckerman.
Up overhead, in the
shadows of the ceiling, Charlotte crouched unseen, her front legs encircling
her egg sac. Her heart was not beating as strongly as usual and she felt weary
and old, but she was sure at last that she had saved Wilbur's life, and she
felt peaceful and contented.
"We have no time
to lose!" shouted Mr. Zuckerman. "Lurvy, help with the
crate!""Can I have some money?" asked Fern.
"You wait!"
said Mrs. Arable. "Can't you see everybody is busy?""Put that
empty buttermilk jar into the truck!" commanded Mr. Arable. Avery grabbed
the jar and rushed to the truck.
"Does my hair
look all right?" asked Mrs. Zuckerman.
"Looks
fine," snapped Mr. Zuckerman, as he and Lurvy set the crate down in front
of Wilbur.
"You didn't even
look at my hair!" said Mrs. Zuckerman.
"You're all
right, Edith," said Mrs. Arable. "Just keep calm."Templeton,
asleep in the straw, heard the commotion and awoke. He didn't know exactly what
was going on, but when he saw the men shoving Wilbur into the crate he made up
his mind to go along. He watched his chance and when no one was looking he
crept into the crate and buried himself in the straw at the bottom.
"All ready,
boys!" cried Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's go!" He and Mr. Arable and
Lurvy and Avery grabbed the crate and boosted it over the side of the pen and
up into the truck. Fern jumped aboard and sat on top of the crate. She still
had straw in her hair and looked very pretty and excited. Mr. Arable started
the motor. Everyone climbed in, and off they drove to the judge's booth in
front of the grandstand.
As they passed the Ferris
wheel, Fern gazed up at it and wished she were in the topmost car with Henry
Fussy at her side.