You will know that forgiveness has begun when you recall those who hurt you and feel the power to wish them well.
Lewis B. Smedes
ePub
A4Chapter 19: The Egg Sac
N
ext morning when the first lightcame into the sky and the sparrows
stirred in the trees, when the cows
rattled their chains and the rooster
crowed and the early automobiles went
whispering along the road, Wilbur
awoke and looked for Charlotte. He saw
her up overhead in a corner near the
back of his pen. She was very quiet. Her
eight legs were spread wide. She
seemed to have shrunk during the night.
Next to her, attached to the ceiling,
Wilbur saw a curious object. It was a
sort of sac, or cocoon. It was peachcolored
and looked as though it were
made of cotton candy.
"Are you awake, Charlotte?" he
said softly.
"Yes," came the answer.
"What is that nifty little thing? Did
you make it?"
"I did indeed," replied Charlotte in
a weak voice.
"Is it a plaything?"
"Plaything? I should say not. It is
my egg sac, my magnum opus."
"I don't know what a magnum opus
(masterpiece) is," said Wilbur.
"That's Latin," explained Charlotte.
"It means 'great work." This egg sac is
my great work - the finest thing I have
ever made."
"What's inside it?" asked Wilbur.
"Eggs?"
"Five hundred and fourteen of
them," she replied.
"Five hundred and fourteen?" said
Wilbur. "You're kidding."
"No, I'm not. I counted them. I got
started counting so I kept on - just to
keep my mind occupied."
"It's a perfectly beautiful egg sac,"
said Wilbur, feeling as happy as though
he had constructed it himself.
"Yes, it is pretty," replied
Charlotte, patting the sac with her two
front legs. "Anyway, I can guarantee that
it is strong. It's made out of the toughest
material I have. It is also waterproof.
The eggs are inside and will be warm
and dry."
"Charlotte," said Wilbur dreamily,
"are you really going to have five
hundred and fourteen children?"
"If nothing happens, yes," she said.
"Of course, they won't show up till next
spring."
Wilbur noticed that Charlotte's
voice sounded sad. "What makes you
sound so down-hearted? I should think
you'd be terribly happy about this."
"Oh, don't pay any attention to me,"
said Charlotte. "I just don't have much
pep any more. I guess I feel sad because
I won't ever see my children."
"What do you mean you won't see
your children! Of course you will. We'll
all see them. It's going to be simply
wonderful next spring in the barn cellar
with five hundred and fourteen baby
spiders running around all over the
place. And the geese will have a new set
of goslings, and the sheep will have their
new lambs..."
"Maybe," said Charlotte quietly.
"However, I have a feeling I'm not going
to see the results of last night's efforts. I
don't feel good at all. I think I'm
languishing, to tell you the truth."
Wilbur didn't understand the word
"languish" and he hated to bother
Charlotte by asking her to explain. But
he was so worried he felt he had to ask.
"What does 'languishing' mean?"
"It means I'm slowing up, feeling
my age. I'm not young any more, Wilbur.
But I don't want you to worry about me.
This is your big day today. Look at my
web - doesn't it show up well with the
dew on it?"
Charlotte's web never looked more
beautiful than it looked this morning.
Each strand held dozens of bright drops
of early morning dew. The light from the
east struck it and made it all plain and
clear. It was a perfect piece of designing
and building. In another hour or two, a
steady stream of people would pass by,
admiring it, and reading it, and looking
at Wilbur, and marveling at the miracle.
As Wilbur was studying the web, a
pair of whiskers and a sharp face
appeared. Slowly Templeton dragged
himself across the pen and threw himself
down in a corner.
"I'm back," he said in a husky
voice. "What a night!"
The rat was swollen to twice his
normal size. His stomach was as big
around as a jelly jar.
"What a night!" he repeated,
hoarsely. "What feasting and carousing
(drink heavily, consume large quantities
of alcohol)! A real gorge! I must have
eaten the remains of thirty lunches.
Never have I seen such leavings, and
everything well-ripened and seasoned
with the passage of time and the heat of
the day. Oh, it was rich, my friends,
rich!"
"You ought to be ashamed of
yourself," said Charlotte in disgust. "It
would serve you right if you had an
acute attack of indigestion."
"Don't worry about my stomach,"
snarled Templeton. "It can handle
anything. And by the way, I've got some
bad news. As I came past that pig next
door - the one that calls himself Uncle I
noticed a blue tag on the front of his pen.
That means he has won first prize. I
guess you're licked, Wilbur. You might
as well relax - nobody is going to hang
any medal on you. Furthermore, I
wouldn't be surprised if Zuckerman
changes his mind about you. Wait till he
gets hankering (strong desire) for some
fresh pork and smoked ham and crisp
bacon! He'll take the knife to you, my
boy."
"Be still, Templeton!" said
Charlotte. "You're too stuffed and
bloated to know what you're saying.
Don't pay any attention to him, Wilbur!"
Wilbur tried not to think about what
the rat had just said. He decided to
change the subject.
"Templeton," said Wilbur, "if you
weren't so dopey (drugged, stupefied;
stupid), you would have noticed that
Charlotte has made an egg sac. She is
going to become a mother. For your
information, there are five hundred and
fourteen eggs in that peachy little sac."
"Is this true?" asked the rat, eyeing
the sac suspiciously.
"Yes, it's true," sighed Charlotte.
"Congratulations!" murmured
Templeton. "This has been a night!" He
closed his eyes, pulled some straw over
himself, and dropped off into a deep
sleep. Wilbur and Charlotte were glad to
be rid of him for a while.
At nine o'clock, Mr. Arable's truck
rolled into the Fair Grounds and came to
a stop at Wilbur's pen. Everybody
climbed out.
"Look!" cried Fern. "Look at
Charlotte's web! Look what it says!"
The grownups and the children
joined hands and stood there, studying
the new sign.
"'Humble,'" said Mr. Zuckerman.
"Now isn't that just the word for
Wilbur!"
Everyone rejoiced to find that the
miracle of the web had been repeated.
Wilbur gazed up lovingly into their
faces. He looked very humble and very
grateful. Fern winked at Charlotte. Lurvy
soon got busy. He poured a bucket of
warm slops into the trough, and while
Wilbur ate his breakfast Lurvy scratched
him gently with a smooth stick.
"Wait a minute!" cried Avery.
"Look at this!" He pointed to the blue tag
on Uncle's pen. "This pig has won first
prize already."
The Zuckermans and the Arables
stared at the tag. Mrs. Zuckerman began
to cry. Nobody said a word. They just
stared at the tag. Then they stared at
Uncle. Then they stared at the tag again.
Lurvy took out an enormous
handkerchief and blew his nose very
loud - so loud, in fact, that the noise was
heard by stableboys over at the horse
barn.
"Can I have some money?" asked
Fern. "I want to go out on the midway."
"You stay right where you are!"
said her mother. Tears came to Fern's
eyes.
"What's everybody crying about?"
asked Mr. Zuckerman. "Let's get busy!
Edith, bring the buttermilk!"
Mrs. Zuckerman wiped her eyes
with her handkerchief. She went to the
truck and came back with a gallon jar of
buttermilk.
"Bath time!" said Zuckerman,
cheerfully. He and Mrs. Zuckerman and
Avery climbed into Wilbur's pen. Avery
slowly poured buttermilk on Wilbur's
head and back, and as it trickled down
his sides and cheeks, Mr. and Mrs.
Zuckerman rubbed it into his hair and
skin. Passersby stopped to watch. Pretty
soon quite a crowd had gathered. Wilbur
grew beautifully white and smooth. The
morning sun shone through his pink ears.
"He isn't as big as that pig next
door," remarked one bystander, "but he's
cleaner. That's what I like."
"So do I," said another man.
"He's humble, too," said a woman,
reading the sign on the web.
Everybody who visited the pigpen
had a good word to say about Wilbur.
Everyone admired the web. And of
course nobody noticed Charlotte.
Suddenly a voice was heard on the
loud speaker.
"Attention, please!" it said. "Will
Mr. Homer Zuckerman bring his famous
pig to the judges' booth in front of the
grandstand. A special award will be
made there in twenty minutes. Everyone
is invited to attend. Crate your pig,
please, Mr. Zuckerman, and report to the
judges' booth promptly!"
For a moment after this
announcement, the Arables and the
Zuckermans were unable to speak or
move. Then Avery picked up a handful
of straw and threw it high in the air and
gave a loud yell. The straw fluttered
down like confetti into Fern's hair. Mr.
Zuckerman hugged Mrs. Zuckerman. Mr.
Arable kissed Mrs. Arable. Avery
kissed Wilbur. Lurvy shook hands with
everybody.
Fern hugged her mother. Avery
hugged Fern. Mrs. Arable hugged Mrs.
Zuckerman.
Up overhead, in the shadows of the
ceiling, Charlotte crouched unseen, her
front legs encircling her egg sac. Her
heart was not beating as strongly as
usual and she felt weary and old, but she
was sure at last that she had saved
Wilbur's life, and she felt peaceful and
contented.
"We have no time to lose!" shouted
Mr. Zuckerman. "Lurvy, help with the
crate!"
"Can I have some money?" asked
Fern.
"You wait!" said Mrs. Arable.
"Can't you see everybody is busy?"
"Put that empty buttermilk jar into
the truck!" commanded Mr. Arable.
Avery grabbed the jar and rushed to the
truck.
"Does my hair look all right?"
asked Mrs. Zuckerman.
"Looks fine," snapped Mr.
Zuckerman, as he and Lurvy set the crate
down in front of Wilbur.
"You didn't even look at my hair!"
said Mrs. Zuckerman.
"You're all right, Edith," said Mrs.
Arable. "Just keep calm.
Templeton, asleep in the straw,
heard the commotion and awoke. He
didn't know exactly what was going on,
but when he saw the men shoving Wilbur
into the crate he made up his mind to go
along. He watched his chance and when
no one was looking he crept into the
crate and buried himself in the straw at
the bottom.
"All ready, boys!" cried Mr.
Zuckerman. "Let's go!" He and Mr.
Arable and Lurvy and Avery grabbed the
crate and boosted it over the side of the
pen and up into the truck. Fern jumped
aboard and sat on top of the crate. She
still had straw in her hair and looked
very pretty and excited. Mr. Arable
started the motor. Everyone climbed in,
and off they drove to the judge's booth in
front of the grandstand.
As they passed the Ferris wheel,
Fern gazed up at it and wished she were
in the topmost car with Henry Fussy at
her side.
