Free Charlotte's Web by E. B. White Page A

called Charlotte.

    Wilbur obeyed.
    â€œDo a back flip with a half twist in it!” cried Charlotte.
    Wilbur went over backwards, writhing and twisting as he went.
    â€œO.K., Wilbur,” said Charlotte. “You can go back to sleep. O.K., Templeton, the soap ad will do, I guess. I’m not sure Wilbur’s action is exactly radiant, but it’s interesting.”
    â€œActually,” said Wilbur, “I feel radiant.”
    â€œDo you?” said Charlotte, looking at him with affection. “Well, you’re a good little pig, and radiant you shall be. I’m in this thing pretty deep now—I might as well go the limit.”
    Tired from his romp, Wilbur lay down in the clean straw. He closed his eyes. The straw seemed scratchy—not as comfortable as the cow manure, which was always delightfully soft to lie in. So he pushed the straw to one side and stretched out in the manure. Wilbur sighed. It had been a busy day—his first day of being terrific. Dozens of people had visited his yard during the afternoon, and he had had to stand and pose, looking as terrific as he could. Now he was tired. Fern had arrived and seated herself quietly on her stool in the corner.
    â€œTell me a story, Charlotte!” said Wilbur, as he lay waiting for sleep to come. “Tell me a story!”
    So Charlotte, although she, too, was tired, did what Wilbur wanted.

    â€œOnce upon a time,” she began, “I had a beautiful cousin who managed to build her web across a small stream. One day a tiny fish leaped into the air and got tangled in the web. My cousin was very much surprised, of course. The fish was thrashing wildly. My cousin hardly dared tackle it. But she did. She swooped down and threw great masses of wrapping material around the fish and fought bravely to capture it.”
    â€œDid she succeed?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œIt was a never-to-be-forgotten battle,” said Charlotte. “There was the fish, caught only by one fin, and its tail wildly thrashing and shining in the sun. Therewas the web, sagging dangerously under the weight of the fish.”
    â€œHow much did the fish weigh?” asked Wilbur eagerly.
    â€œI don’t know,” said Charlotte. “There was my cousin, slipping in, dodging out, beaten mercilessly over the head by the wildly thrashing fish, dancing in, dancing out, throwing her threads and fighting hard. First she threw a left around the tail. The fish lashed back. Then a left to the tail and a right to the midsection. The fish lashed back. Then she dodged to one side and threw a right, and another right to the fin. Then a hard left to the head, while the web swayed and stretched.”
    â€œThen what happened?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œNothing,” said Charlotte. “The fish lost the fight. My cousin wrapped it up so tight it couldn’t budge.”
    â€œThen what happened?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œNothing,” said Charlotte. “My cousin kept the fish for a while, and then, when she got good and ready, she ate it.”
    â€œTell me another story!” begged Wilbur.
    So Charlotte told him about another cousin of hers who was an aeronaut.
    â€œWhat is an aeronaut?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œA balloonist,” said Charlotte. “My cousin used to stand on her head and let out enough thread to form aballoon. Then she’d let go and be lifted into the air and carried upward on the warm wind.”
    â€œIs that true?” asked Wilbur. “Or are you just making it up?”
    â€œIt’s true,” replied Charlotte. “I have some very remarkable cousins. And now, Wilbur, it’s time you went to sleep.”
    â€œSing something!” begged Wilbur, closing his eyes.
    So Charlotte sang a lullaby, while crickets chirped in the grass and the barn grew dark. This was the song she sang.
    â€œSleep, sleep, my love, my only,
    Deep, deep, in the dung and the dark;
    Be not afraid and be not lonely!
    This