Паутина Шарлотты

           Wilburcouldseebythewaytheyactedthattheyweregladtoseehim.

           "IsthereanythingIcangetyou?Isthereanythingyouneed?"

           Theyoungspidersjustwaved.Forseveraldaysandseveralnightstheycrawledhereandthere,upanddown,aroundandabout,wavingatWilbur,trailingtinydraglinesbehindthem,andexploringtheirhome.Thereweredozensanddozensofthem.Wilburcouldn’tcountthem,butheknewthathehadagreatmanynewfriends.Theygrewquiterapidly.SooneachwasasbigasaBBshot.Theymadetinywebsnearthesac.

           ThencameaquietmorningwhenMr.Zuckermanopenedadooronthenorthside.Awarmdraftofrisingairblewsoftlythroughthebarncellar.Theairsmelledofthedampearth,ofthesprucewoods,ofthesweetspringtime.Thebabyspidersfeltthewarmupdraft.Onespiderclimbedtothetopofthefence.ThenitdidsomethingthatcameasagreatsurprisetoWilbur.Thespiderstoodonitshead,pointeditsspinneretsintheair,andletlooseacloudoffinesilk.Thesilkformedaballoon.AsWilburwatched,thespiderletgoofthefenceandroseintotheair.

           "Good-bye!"itsaid,asitsailedthroughthedoorway.

           "Waitaminute!"screamedWilbur."Wheredoyouthinkyou’regoing?"

           Butthespiderwasalreadyoutofsight.Thenanotherbabyspidercrawledtothetopofthefence,stoodonitshead,madeaballoon,andsailedaway.Thenanotherspider.Thenanother.Theairwassoonfilledwithtinyballoons,eachballooncarryingaspider.

           Wilburwasfrantic.Charlotte’sbabiesweredisappearingatagreatrate.

           "Comeback,children!"hecried.

           "Good-bye!"theycalled.