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Robert S. Hillyer
ePub
A4Chapter 17: Uncle
sky. They
could smell the dust of the race track
where the sprinkling cart had moistened
it; and they could smell hamburgers
frying and see balloons aloft. They could
hear sheep blatting in their pens. An
enormous voice over the loudspeaker
said: "Attention, please! Will the owner
of a Pontiac car, license number H-2439,
please move your car away from the
fireworks shed!"
"Can I have some money?" asked
Fern.
"Can I, too?" asked Avery.
"I'm going to win a doll by spinning
a wheel and it will stop at the right
number," said Fern.
"I'm going to steer a jet plane and
make it bump into another one."
"Can I have a balloon?" asked
Fern.
"Can I have a frozen custard sweet
dish made of eggs and milk) and a
cheeseburger and some raspberry soda
pop?" asked Avery.
"You children be quiet till we get
the pig unloaded," said Mrs. Arable.
"Let's let the children go off by
themselves," suggested Mr. Arable.
"The Fair only comes once a year."
Mr. Arable gave Fern two quarters and
two dimes. He gave Avery five dimes
and four nickels. "Now run along!" he
said. "And remember, the money has to
last all day. Don't spend it all the first
few minutes. And be back here at the
truck at noontime so we can all have
lunch together. And don't eat a lot of stuff
that's going to make you sick to your
stomachs."
"And if you go in those swings,"
said Mrs. Arable, "you hang on tight!
You hang on very tight. Hear me?"
"And don't get lost!" said Mrs.
Zuckerman.
"And don't get dirty!"
"Don't get overheated!" said their
mother.
"Watch out for pickpockets!"
cautioned their father.
"And don't cross the race track
when the horses are coming!" cried Mrs.
Zuckerman.
The children grabbed each other by
the hand and danced off in the direction
of the merry-go-round, toward the
wonderful music and the wonderful
adventure and the wonderful excitement,
into the wonderful midway where there
would be no parents to guard them and
guide them, and where they could be
happy and free and do as they pleased.
Mrs. Arable stood quietly and watched
them go. Then she sighed. Then she blew
her nose.
"Do you really think it's all right?"
she asked.
"Well, they've got to grow up some
time," said Mr. Arable. "And a fair is a
good place to start, I guess."
While Wilbur was being unloaded
and taken out of his crate and into his
new pigpen, crowds gathered to watch.
They stared at the sign ZUCKERMAN'S
FAMOUS PIG. Wilbur stared back and
tried to look extra good. He was pleased
with his new home. The pen was grassy,
and it was shaded from the sun by a shed
roof.
Charlotte, watching her chance,
scrambled out of the crate and climbed a
post to the under side of the roof.
Nobody noticed her.
Templeton, not wishing to come out
in broad daylight, stayed quietly under
the straw at the bottom of the crate. Mr.
Zuckerman poured some skim milk into
Wilbur's trough, pitched clean straw into
his pen, and then he and Mrs. Zuckerman
and the Arables walked away toward the
cattle barn to look at purebred cows and
to see the sights. Mr. Zuckerman
particularly wanted to look at tractors.
Mrs. Zuckerman wanted to see a deep
freeze. Lurvy wandered off by himself,
hoping to meet friends and have some
fun on the midway.
As soon as the people were gone,
Charlotte spoke to Wilbur.
"It's a good thing you can't see what
I see," she said.
"What do you see?" asked Wilbur.
"There's a pig in the next pen and
he's enormous. I'm afraid he's much
bigger than you are."
"Maybe he's older than I am, and
has had more time to grow," suggested
Wilbur. Tears began to come to his eyes.
"I'll drop down and have a closer
look," Charlotte said. Then she crawled
along a beam till she was directly over
the next pen. She let herself down on a
dragline until she hung in the air just in
front of the big pig's snout.
"May I have your name?" she
asked, politely.
The pig stared at her. "No name,"
he said in a big, hearty voice. "Just call
me Uncle."
"Very well, Uncle," replied
Charlotte. "What is the date of your
birth? Are you a spring pig?"
"Sure I'm a spring pig," replied
Uncle. "What did you think I was, a
spring chicken? Haw, haw - that's a good
one, eh, Sister."
"Mildly funny," said Charlotte.
"I've heard funnier ones, though. Glad to
have met you, and now I must be going."
She ascended slowly and returned
to Wilbur's pen. "He claims he's a spring
pig," reported Charlotte, "and perhaps
he is. One thing is certain, he has a most
unattractive personality. He is too
familiar, too noisy, and he cracks weak
jokes. Also, he's not anywhere near as
clean as you are, nor as pleasant. I took
quite a dislike to him in our brief
interview. He's going to be a hard pig to
beat, though, Wilbur, on account of his
size and weight. But with me helping
you, it can be done."
"When are you going to spin a
web?" asked Wilbur.
"This afternoon, late, if I'm not too
tired," said Charlotte. "The least thing
tires me these days. I don't seem to have
the energy I once had. My age, I guess."
Wilbur looked at his friend. She
looked rather swollen and she seemed
listless.
"I'm awfully sorry to hear that
you're feeling poorly, Charlotte," he
said. "Perhaps if you spin a web and
catch a couple of flies you'll feel better."
"Perhaps," she said, wearily. "But I
feel like the end of a long day."
Clinging upside down to the
ceiling, she settled down for a nap,
leaving Wilbur very much worried.
All morning people wandered past
Wilbur's pen. Dozens and dozens of
strangers stopped to stare at him and to
admire his silky white coat, his curly
tail, his kind and radiant expression.
Then they would move on to the next pen
where the bigger pig lay. Wilbur heard
several people make favorable remarks
about Uncle's great size. He couldn't
help overhearing these remarks, and he
couldn't help worrying. "And now, with
Charlotte not feeling well..." he thought.
"Oh, dear!"
All morning Templeton slept
quietly under the straw. The day grew
fiercely hot. At noon the Zuckermans and
the Arables returned to the pigpen. Then,
a few minutes later, Fern and Avery
showed up. Fern had a monkey doll in
her arms and was eating Crackerjack.
Avery had a balloon tied to his ear and
was chewing a candied apple. The
children were hot and dirty.
"Isn't it hot?" said Mrs. Zuckerman.
"It's terribly hot," said Mrs. Arable,
fanning herself with an advertisement of
a deep freeze.
One by one they climbed into the
truck and opened lunch boxes. The sun
beat down on everything. Nobody
seemed hungry.
"When are the judges going to
decide about Wilbur?" asked Mrs.
Zuckerman.
"Not till tomorrow," said Mr.
Zuckerman.
Lurvy appeared, carrying an Indian
blanket that he had won.
"That's just what we need," said
Avery. "A blanket."
"Of course it is," replied Lurvy.
And he spread the blanket across the
sideboards of the truck so that it was
like a little tent. The children sat in the
shade, under the blanket, and felt better.
After lunch, they stretched out and
fell asleep.
