Read Charlotte's Web for Free Online Page B

piece of string I could borrow?” asked Wilbur. “I need it to spin a web.”
    â€œYes, indeed,” replied Templeton, who saved string. “No trouble at all. Anything to oblige.” He crept down into his hole, pushed the goose egg out of the way, and returned with an old piece of dirty white string. Wilbur examined it.
    â€œThat’s just the thing,” he said. “Tie one end to my tail, will you, Templeton?”
    Wilbur crouched low, with his thin, curly tail toward the rat. Templeton seized the string, passed it around the end of the pig’s tail, and tied two half hitches. Charlotte watched in delight. Like Fern, she was truly fond of Wilbur, whose smelly pen and stale food attracted the flies that she needed, and she was proud to see thathe was not a quitter and was willing to try again to spin a web.

    While the rat and the spider and the little girl watched, Wilbur climbed again to the top of the manure pile, full of energy and hope.
    â€œEverybody watch!” he cried. And summoning all his strength, he threw himself into the air, headfirst. The string trailed behind him. But as he had neglected to fasten the other end to anything, it didn’t really do any good, and Wilbur landed with a thud, crushed and hurt. Tears came to his eyes. Templeton grinned. Charlotte just sat quietly. After a bit she spoke.
    â€œYou can’t spin a web, Wilbur, and I advise you to put the idea out of your mind. You lack two things needed for spinning a web.”
    â€œWhat are they?” asked Wilbur, sadly.

    â€œYou lack a set of spinnerets, and you lack know-how. But cheer up, you don’t need a web. Zuckerman supplies you with three big meals a day. Why should you worry about trapping food?”
    Wilbur sighed. “You’re ever so much cleverer and brighter than I am, Charlotte. I guess I was just trying to show off. Serves me right.”
    Templeton untied his string and took it back to his home. Charlotte returned to her weaving.
    â€œYou needn’t feel too badly, Wilbur,” she said. “Not many creatures can spin webs. Even men aren’t as good at it as spiders, although they think they’re pretty good, and they’ll try anything. Did you ever hear of the Queensborough Bridge?”
    Wilbur shook his head. “Is it a web?”
    â€œSort of,” replied Charlotte. “But do you know how long it took men to build it? Eight whole years. My goodness, I would have starved to death waiting that long. I can make a web in a single evening.”
    â€œWhat do people catch in the Queensborough Bridge—bugs?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œNo,” said Charlotte. “They don’t catch anything. They just keep trotting back and forth across the bridge thinking there is something better on the other side. If they’d hang head-down at the top of the thing and wait quietly, maybe something good would come along. But no—with men it’s rush, rush, rush, every minute. I’m glad I’m a sedentary spider.”
    â€œWhat does sedentary mean?” asked Wilbur.
    â€œMeans 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.”
    â€œWell, 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?”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œIn a forest looking for beechnuts and truffles and delectable roots, pushing leaves aside with my wonderful strong nose, searching and sniffing along the ground, smelling, smelling, smelling . . .”
    â€œYou 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