“What do people catch in the Queensborough Bridge—bugs?” asked Wilbur.

“No,” said Charlotte. “They don’t catch anything. They just keep trotting back and forth thinking there is something better on the other side. If they’d hang head-down at the top of the thing and wait quietly, maybe something good would come along. But no—with people it’s rush, rush, rush, every minute. I’m glad I’m a sedentary spider.”

“What does sedentary mean?” asked Wilbur.

“Means I sit still a good part of the time and don’t go wandering all over creation. I know a good thing when I see it, and my web is a good thing. I stay put and wait for what comes. Gives me a chance to think.”

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Wilbur heard the trill of the tree toad and the occasional slamming of the kitchen door. All these sounds make him feel comfortable and happy, for he loved life and loved to be a part of the world on a summer evening. But as he lay there he remembered what the old sheep had told him. The thought of death came to him and he began to tremble with fear.

“Charlotte?” he said, softly.

“Yes, Wilbur?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Of course you don’t,” said Charlotte in a comforting voice.

“I just love it here in the barn,” said Wilbur. “I love everything about this place.”

“Of course you do,” said Charlotte. “We all do.”

The goose appeared, followed by her seven goslings. They thrust their little necks out and keep up a music whistling, like a tiny troupe of pipers. Wilbur listened to the sound with love in his heart.

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Everyone needs to read The Fate of Fausto, by Oliver Jeffers.