Charlotte’s Web and other classic animal stories: Charlotte’s Web, The Trumpet of the Swan, Stuart Little

‘Means I sit still a good part of the time and don’t go wandering all over creation. I know a good thing when I see it, and my web is a good thing. I stay put and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think.’

‘Well, I’m sort of sedentary myself, I guess,’ said the pig. ‘I have to hang around here whether I want to or not. You know where I’d really like to be this evening?’

‘Where?’

‘In a forest looking for beech nuts and truffles and delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonderful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground, smelling, smelling, smelling …’

‘You smell just the way you are,’ remarked a lamb who had just walked in. ‘I can smell you from here. You’re the smelliest creature in the place.’

Wilbur hung his head. His eyes grew wet with tears. Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke sharply to the lamb.

‘Let Wilbur alone!’ she said. ‘He has a perfect right to smell, considering his surroundings. You’re no bundle of sweet peas yourself. Furthermore, you are interrupting a very pleasant conversation. What were we talking about, Wilbur, when we were so rudely interrupted?’

‘Oh, I don’t remember,’ said Wilbur. ‘It doesn’t make any difference. Let’s not talk any more for a while, Charlotte. I’m getting sleepy. You go ahead and finish fixing your web and I’ll just lie here and watch you. It’s a lovely evening.’ Wilbur stretched out on his side and sighed a long sigh.

Twilight settled over Zuckerman’s barn, and a feeling of peace. Fern knew it was almost supper-time but she couldn’t bear to leave. Swallows passed on silent wings, in and out of the doorways, bringing food to their young ones. From across the road a bird sang ‘Whippoorwill, whippoorwill!’ Lurvy sat down under an apple tree and lit his pipe: the animals sniffed the familiar smell of strong tobacco. Wilbur heard the trill of the tree toad and the occasional slamming of the kitchen door. All these sounds made him feel comfortable and happy, for he loved life and loved to be a part of the world on a summer evening. But as he lay there he remembered what the old sheep had told him. The thought of death came to him and he began to tremble with fear.

‘Charlotte?’ he said, softly.

‘Yes, Wilbur?’

‘I don’t want to die.’

‘Of course you don’t,’ said Charlotte in a comforting voice.

‘I just love it here in the barn,’ said Wilbur. ‘I love everything about this place.’

‘Of course you do,’ said Charlotte. ‘We all do.’

The goose appeared, followed by her seven goslings. They thrust their little necks out and kept up a musical whistling, like a tiny troupe of pipers. Wilbur listened to the sound with love in his heart.

‘Charlotte?’ he said.

‘Yes?’ said the spider.

‘Were you serious when you promised you would keep them from killing me?’

‘I was never more serious in my life. I am not going to let you die, Wilbur.’

‘How are you going to save me?’ asked Wilbur, whose curiosity was very strong on this point.

‘Well,’ said Charlotte, vaguely, ‘I don’t really know. But I’m working on a plan.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ said Wilbur. ‘How is the plan coming, Charlotte? Have you got very far with it? Is it coming along pretty well?’ Wilbur was trembling again, but Charlotte was cool and collected.

‘Oh, it’s coming all right,’ she said, lightly. ‘The plan is still in its early stages and hasn’t completely shaped up yet, but I’m working on it.’

‘When do you work on it?’ begged Wilbur.

‘When I’m hanging head down at the top of my web. That’s when I do my thinking, because then all the blood is in my head.’

‘I’d be only too glad to help in any way I can.’

‘Oh, I’ll work it out alone,’ said Charlotte. ‘I can think better if I think alone.’

‘All right,’ said Wilbur. ‘But don’t fail to let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, no matter how slight.’

‘Well,’ replied Charlotte, ‘you must try to build yourself up. I want you to get plenty of sleep, and stop worrying. Never hurry and never worry! Chew your food thoroughly and eat every bit of it, except you must leave just enough for Templeton. Gain weight and stay well – that’s the way you can help. Keep fit, and don’t lose your nerve. Do you think you understand?’

‘Yes, I understand,’ said Wilbur.

‘Go along to bed then,’ said Charlotte. ‘Sleep is important.’

Wilbur trotted over to the darkest corner of his pen and threw himself down. He closed his eyes. In another minute he spoke.

‘Charlotte?’ he said.

‘Yes, Wilbur?’

‘May I go out to my trough and see if I left any of my supper? I think I left just a tiny bit of mashed potato.’

‘Very well,’ said Charlotte. ‘But I want you in bed again without delay.’

Wilbur started to race out to his yard.

‘Slowly, slowly!’ said Charlotte. ‘Never hurry and never worry!’

Wilbur checked himself and crept slowly to his trough. He found a bit of potato, chewed it carefully, swallowed it, and walked back to bed. He closed his eyes and was silent for a while.

‘Charlotte?’ he said, in a whisper.

‘Yes?’

‘May I get a drink of milk? I think there are a few drops of milk left in my trough.’

‘No, the trough is dry, and I want you to go to sleep. No more talking! Close your eyes and go to sleep!’

Wilbur shut his eyes. Fern got up from her stool and started for home, her mind full of everything she had seen and heard.

‘Good night, Charlotte!’ said Wilbur.

‘Good night, Wilbur!’

There was a pause.

‘Good night, Charlotte!’

‘Good night, Wilbur!’