“You 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 tears. Charlotte noticed his embarrassment and she spoke sharply to the lamb.
“Let Wilbur alone!” she said. “He has a perfect right to smell, considering his surroundings.”
“You’re no bundle of sweet peas yourself. Furthermore, you are interrupting a very pleasant conversation.”
“What were we talking about, Wilbur, when we were so rudely interrupted?”
“Oh, I don’t remember,” said Wilbur. “It doesn’t make any difference.”
Let’s not talk any more for a while, Charlotte. I’m getting sleepy.
You go ahead and finish fixing your web and I’ll just lie here and watch you. It’s a lovely evening.
Wilbur stretched out on his side. Twilight settled over Zuckerman’s barn, and a feeling of peace.
Fern knew it was almost suppertime but she couldn’t bear to leave.
Swallows passed on silent wings, in and out of the doorways, bringing food to their young ones.
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