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Wilbur’s new home was in the lower part of the barn, directly underneath the cows. Mr. Zuckerman knew that a manure pile is a good place to kkep a young pig. Pigs need warmth, and it was warm and comfortable down there in the barn cellar on the south side.　　Fern came almost every day to visit him. She found an old milking stool that had been discarded, and she placed the stool in the sheepfold next to Wilbur’s pen. Here she sat quietly during the long afternoos, thinking and listening and watching Wilbur. The sheep soon got to know her and trust her. So did the geese, who lived with the sheep. All the animals trusted her, she was so quiet and friendly. Mr. Zuckerman did not allow her to take Wilbur out, and he did not allow to git into the pigpen. But he told Fern that she could sit on the stool and watch Wilbur as long as she wanted to. It made her happy just to be near the pig, and it made her happy just to be near the pig, and it made Wilbur happy to know that she was sitting there, right outside his pen. But he never had any fun–no walks, no redes, no swims.

　　One afternoon in June, when Wilbur was almost two months old, he wandered out into his smalll yard outside the barn. Fern had not arrived for her usual visit. Wilbur stood in the sun feeling lonely and bored.