text: A great big smile broke over his face, and the Bear stuck out his tongue and panted like a dog. Charlotte laughed, and the Butter Bear laughed too. "What's your name?" he asked.
  
  She answered, and soon they were chatting away like old friends about how pretty the autumn leaves were and how they'd both love a slice of apple pie right now. "Or a piece of warm bread," the Bear added. "I always have some butter!" And he wiped a little form his hairy head with one hairy finger, and stuck it right in his mouth! "Deee-licious!" he burbled.
  
  Charlotte was shocked. "But that's poor manners, Mr. Bear. Mother says we mustn't put our fingers in our mouths or lick the plates. And no running around the house like a monkey."
  
  "But I'm not a monkey, and neither are you," he answered, and laughed again. He pulled the spectacles off once more and polished them against the shaggy brown fur of his chest. "I can never get them clean. Suppose we walk to the stream? There's a friend of mine down there who might be able to help." He blinked those big dark eyes at the little girl.
  
  > say "No, let's try to find some food!"
  "I can't argue with that," said the Bear. "We could go to the Well. Have you ever been there?"
  
  Charlotte had not. The Bear was shocked. "Then that's where we're going! It isn't too far away...now if I can just remember how to get there." They set off towards the forest, and Charlotte asked what was so special about this well.
  
  "It's magical, very magical, and like all good magic it has to do with food. Most wells are full of water, but this Well is full of all kinds of delicious treats. You never know what you'll pull up in the bucket. Me, I'm hoping for some warm cornbread and pile of peppermints."
  
  "Peppermints are good," said Charlotte.
  
  Soon they were deep in the woods, and the trees rose up around them and blocked out the afternoon sun. The Bear kept turning around and sniffing them with his small black nose. Each time he did, his spectacles slipped a little further down until they eventually fell. He picked them up sheepishly and explained that he wasn't exactly sure where to go.
  
  "How will we find the Well, Mr. Bear?" asked the girl.
  
  "It's simple," he said. "I may not be sure, but the nose knows. The nose always knows."
  
  And he was right. They had to stop and turn around many times, but eventually the trees thinned into a clearing, their branches stretching above to create a beautiful green canopy. In the center was the Well. It looked ancient, made of cracked bricks and a chipped wooden roof. A bucket hung from a long rope, and the Butter Bear handed its end to Charlotte. "You go first. Let it down gently, and then pull it up. You never know what you'll get."
  
  The bucket descended silently, and after a few minutes Charlotte began to wonder how deep the Well went. The rope was very long, and she hoped it wouldn't take all that to get to the bottom. She was very hungry. At last there was a faint tap. The Bear grinned. "Easy does it now. Bring her back up."
  
  The excitement grew. She could feel the bucket was heavier than before. But what would it be? Charlotte peered into the dark hole and saw it coming up. She could not make out what was inside until it came much closer. An elegant plate, and on it sat a plump slice of blueberry pie. The crust was perfectly cooked, and she could see the ripe blueberries spilling out. Charlotte carefully removed it from the bucket and held it in her hand, and she gave the rope to the Butter Bear.
  
  He lowered it and pulled it back up, and on his plate was a glass dish full of ice cream and bananas. "A little chilly for today, but I'm sure it'll be good," he said. The two of them began to eat, and the pie was better than any Charlotte had ever had. "What will we do with the plates," she asked the Bear.
  
  "Lower them down," he replied. "I don't know who makes the food, but he must want his dishes back." He yawned. "After a delicious meal like that, I always want a nap."
  
  > say "I'm feeling a little sleepy too."
  The Butter Bear gathered up a big pile of leaves and sank down into it. Some of them stuck to his buttery head and he giggled drowsily. "Goodnight, Charlotte," he said. She did the same, and had just shut her eyes when she heard a raspy voice.
  
  "Is anyone there?" it whispered. Should she respond? The Bear must have already fallen asleep, because he only snored.
  
  Then another voice answered, higher pitched and whining. "Yeah, and he's with some girl. It looks like they're asleep, though. Won't be a problem."
  
  Charlotte opened her eyes just a little bit, and she saw two figures creep from the woods and into the clearing. They had long black cloaks, and she could not tell what they looked like. They walked to the Well, and began lowering the bucket. After a few minutes they starting pulling it up again, and whatever was inside made them jump up and down. "Good work," said the raspy voice.
  
  Suddenly the Butter Bear sneezed, sending leaves flying in every direction. The two figured turned and squealed, and the Bear himself jumped up. "Who's that?" he shouted. "Who sneezed?"
  
  Charlotte stood too and ran next to him. The figures pulled their cloaks across their faces, and the high pitched voice said "Nevermind! Go back to sleep!"
  
  The Bear waddled towards them, and they kept yelling warnings. Charlotte stuck beside him. When they were only a few feet away, the mysterious strangers gave a loud yelp and fled, but one of them tripped on the other's cloak! They collapsed in one big pile.
  
  Charlotte pulled the black cloth back to find two pigs. The Bear chuckled. "Horace and Boris! Why didn't you say so? And why are you wearing those cloaks?"
  
  The raspy voiced pig stood up, rubbing his knee. "Hello Butters. We just wanted a couple baked potatoes. And the Well delivered."
  
  "But why all the secrecy?"
  
  The other pig scratched his nose. "We wanted to see if we could pull it off, Butters. You're always singing your song and having adventures, and Boris and me wanted to have an adventure of our own. Who's the girl?"
  
  The Butter Bear introduced Charlotte, and the four of them enjoyed the baked potatoes and some of his butter. "We just wanted some fun," insisted Horace, "not to scare anybody. I hope we didn't come off as too creepy. We're respectable pigs, my brother and me. In fact, why don't we all go back to our cottage for a cup of tea? It's right in the neighborhood."
  
  "The pigs do make delicious tea," said the Bear, "although they need to work on being sneaky."
  
  > say "Tea sounds perfect!"
  Charlotte and the Butter Bear followed the brothers back to their cottage. It was a lovely little house, all covered in ivy and nestled among the great trees of the forest. If she hadn't known better, the girl would have though it had grown up there from the mossy floor a thousand years ago. The door had a fancy brass plate on it, which read, in fancy letters, Messrs. Horace and Boris Porker, Numerologizers. Below that, on a plain wooden sign, someone had scrawled And life insurance.
  
  The Bear grinned at Charlotte's confusion. "Our hosts have many talents," he explained, "but I'm sure they could tell you more themselves."
  
  Boris ushered his guests in while Horace made himself busy in the cluttered kitchen. "Have a seat," he said, pointing to a number of overstuffed armchairs and a sagging couch that sagged even more when the Butter Bear collapsed onto it. "Don't tell me you've never heard of a numerologizer?"
  
  Charlotte shook her head. A series of crashes issues from the kitchen, as if Horace had knocked over a dozen pots and pans. "Only a moment!" he shouted.
  
  Boris laughed. "It's quite an important job. Of course, it doesn't pay what it used to, and that's why we had to join the insurance game, but it's still an important job. Speaking of which," he added, looking now at the Bear, "you haven't changed your mind from last week, have you?"
  
  "Certainly not," the Butter Bear said. "No insurance for me."
  
  "What's a numerologizer?" Charlotte interrupted, not wanting the discussion to continue in this dull direction.
  
  At that moment, Horace burst into the room carrying four mugs of steaming tea. He wove in and out of the furniture, muttering words no decent pig would say in the company of a lady. Somehow he managed to set each cup down in front of its owner and then turn to answer the girl's question. "A numerologizer," he said pompously, "decides how many of something there will be." Seeing her blank look, he went on. "Suppose you were having a party and invited twenty people. How many chairs would you need?"
  
  Charlotte considered the question while the Butter Bear added a dollop of butter from his hair. "I suppose you'd need twenty."
  
  Boris beamed as his brother continued. "Of course. But suppose you were having a thunderstorm. How many raindrops would you need?" Charlotte drank some tea and was pretty sure she saw the Bear snigger into his cup. "Ah, now you see the need for a numerologizer! Depending on the degree and duration of thunderstorm required, you would need anywhere from eighteen point eight one zero five billion to four hundred twenty one point one zero three trillion raindrops!"
  
  "Why have any?" asked the Bear. "I'd rather have a pleasant day."
  
  "Drink your tea," advised Horace. "You see, everything that happens needs a numerologizer. It's just a pity that most thunderstorms just happen, or most trees just grow, and never think to consult a numerologizer. Why, imagine how much simpler things would be if every tree would just come to us to find out precisely how many leaves he ought to grow!"
  
  Charlotte finished her tea and wondered what she was supposed to say to the two very earnest pigs sitting beside her. "It seems like terribly important work," she said solemnly.
  
  The Butter Bear hid another giggle. "I think it's time for us to go, boys. If I change my mind about that insurance I'll stop by."
  
  "Please do!" said Horace. "Be sure you have three and a half ounces of butter in your hair at all times," chided Boris.
  
  Charlotte said good bye and the pair left the little cottage behind and came eventually back to her own house. In the window she could see her mother and father. How thrilled they would be at this story! But then she looked at her friend the Bear and grew sad. "Will I see you again?" she asked.
  
  He smiled and scratched his nose. "Just sing my song, and then who can say. But I had a marvelous adventure with you today." Then he gave her a warm hug, the kind only bears can give, and waddled off, humming the same melody Charlotte had sang only a few hours ago.
  
  And in a few hours, child, you'll wake up again too, and you can go out and play and sing and perhaps even meet the Butter Bear. But it's time to sleep now. Goodnight.