Паутина Шарлотты

           Thestreamsandditchesbubbledandchatteredwithrushingwater.Asparrowwithastreakybreastarrivedandsang.Thelightstrengthened,themorningscamesooner.Almosteverymorningtherewasanothernewlambinthesheepfold.Thegoosewassittingonnineeggs.Theskyseemedwiderandawarmwindblew.ThelastremainingstrandsofCharlotte’soldwebfloatedawayandvanished.

           Onefinesunnymorning,afterbreakfast,Wilburstoodwatchinghisprecioussac.Hewasn’tthinkingofanythingmuch.Ashestoodthere,henoticedsomethingmove.Hesteppedcloserandstared.Atinyspidercrawledfromthesac.Itwasnobiggerthanagrainofsand,nobiggerthantheheadofapin.

           Itsbodywasgreywithablackstripeunderneath.Itslegsweregreyandtan.ItlookedjustlikeCharlotte.

           Wilburtrembledalloverwhenhesawit.Thelittlespiderwavedathim.ThenWilburlookedmoreclosely.Twomorelittlespiderscrawledoutandwaved.Theyclimbedroundandroundonthesac,exploringtheirnewworld.Thenthreemorelittlespiders.Theneight.Thenten.Charlotte’schildrenwerehereatlast.

           Wilbur’sheartpounded.Hebegantosqueal.Thenheracedincircles,kickingmanureintotheair.Thenheturnedabackflip.ThenheplantedhisfrontfeetandcametoastopinfrontofCharlotte’schildren.

           "Hello,there!"hesaid.

           Thefirstspidersaidhello,butitsvoicewassosmallWilburcouldn’thearit.

           "Iamanoldfriendofyourmother’s,"saidWilbur."I’mgladtoseeyou.Areyouallright?Iseverythingallright?"

           Thelittlespiderswavedtheirforelegsathim.