In
the cool of the evening, when shadows darkened the Fair Grounds, Templeton
crept from the carte and looked around. Wilbur lay asleep in the straw.
Charlotte was building a web. Templeton's keen nose detected many fine smells
in the air. The rat was hungry and thirsty. He decided to go exploring. Without
saying anything to anybody, he started off.
"Bring me back a
word!" Charlotte called after him. "I shall be writing tonight for
the last time."The rat mumbled something to himself and disappeared into
the shadows. He did not like being treated like a messenger boy.
After the heat of the
day, the evening came as a welcome relief to all. The Ferris wheel was lighted
now. It went round and round in the sky and seemed twice as high as by day.
There were lights on the midway, and you could hear the crackle of the gambling
machines and the music of the merry-go-round and the voice of the man in the
beano booth calling numbers.
The children felt
refreshed after their nap. Fern met her friend Henry Fussy, and he invited her
to ride with him in the Ferris wheel. He even bought a ticket for her, so it
didn't cost her anything. When Mrs. Arable happened to look up into the starry
sky and saw here little daughter sitting with Henry Fussy and going higher and
higher into the air, and saw how happy Fern looked, she just shook her head.
"My, my!" she said. "Henry Fussy. Think of that!"Templeton
kept out of sight. In the tall grass behind the cattle barn he found a folded
newspaper. Inside it were leftleftovers from somebody's lunch: a deviled ham
sandwich, a piece of Swiss cheese, part of a hard-boiled egg, and the core of a
wormy apple. The rat crawled in and ate everything. Then he tore a word out of
the paper, rolled it up, and started back to Wilbur's pen.
Carlotte had her web
almost finished when Templeton returned, carrying the newspaper clipping. She
had left a space in the middle of the web. At this hour, no people were around
the pigpen, so the rat and the spider and the pig were by themselves.
"I hope you
brought a good one," Charlotte said. "It's the last word I shall ever
write.""Here," said Templeton, unrolling the paper.
"What does it
say?" asked Charlotte. "You'll have to read it for me.""It
says 'Humble'" replied the rat.
"Humble?"
said Charlotte. "'Humble' has two meanings. It means 'not proud' and it
means 'near the ground.' That's Wilbur all over. He's not proud and he's near
the ground.""Well, I hope you're satisfied," sneered the rat.
"I'm not going to spend all my time fetching and carrying. I came to this
Fair to enjoy myself, not to deliver papers.""You've been very
helpful," Charlotte said. "Run along, if you want to see more of the
Fair."The rat grinned. "I'm going to make a night of it," he
said. "The old sheep was right--this Fair is a rat's paradise. What
eating! And what drinking! And everywhere good hiding and good hunting. Bye,
bye, my humble Wilbur! Fare thee well, charlotte, you old schemer! This will be
a night to remember in a rat's life."He vanished into the shadows.
Charlotte went back
to her work. It was quite dark now. In the distance, fireworks began going
off--rockets, scattering fiery balls in the sky. By the time the Arables and
the Zuckermans and Lurvy returned from the grandstand, Charlotte had finished
her web. The word HUMBLE was woven neatly in the center. Nobody noticed it in
the darkness. Everyone was tired and happy.
Fern and Avery
climbed into the truck and lay down. They pulled the Indian blanket over them.
Lurvy gave Wilbur a forkful of fresh straw. Mr. Arable patted him. "Time
for us to go home," he said to the pig. "See you tomorrow."The
grownups climbed slowly into the truck and Wilbur heard the engine start and
then heard the truck moving away in low speed. He would have felt lonely and
homesick, had Charlotte not been with him. He never felt lonely when she was
near. In the distance he could still hear the music of the merry-go-round.
As he was dropping
off to sleep he spoke to Charlotte.
"Sing me that
song again, about the dung and the dark," he begged.
"Not
tonight," she said in a low voice. "I'm too tired." Her voice
didn't seem to come from her web.
"Where are
you?" asked Wilbur. "I can't see you. Are you on your
web?""I'm back here," she answered."Up in this back
corner.""Why aren't you on your web?" asked Wilbur. "You
almost never leave your web.""I've left it tonight," she said.
Wilbur closed his
eyes. "Charlotte," he said, after a while," do you really think
Zuckerman will let me live and not kill me when the cold weather comes? Do you
really think so?""Of course," said Charlotte. "You are a
famous pig and you are a good pig. Tomorrow you will probably win a prize. The
whole world will hear about you. Zuckerman will be proud and happy to own such
a pig. You have nothing to fear, Wilbur--nothing to worry about. Maybe you'll
live forever--who knows? and now, go to sleep."For a while there was no
sound. Then Wilbur's voice:
"What are you
doing up there, Charlotte?""Oh, making something," she said.
"Making something, as usual.""Is it something for me?"
asked Wilbur.
"No," said
Charlotte. "It's something for me, for a change.""Please tell me
what it is," begged Wilbur.
"I'll tell you
in the morning," she said. "When the first light comes into the sky
and the sparrows stir and the cows rattle their chains, when the rooster crows
and the stars fade, when early cars whisper along the highway, you look up here
and I'll show you something. I will show you my masterpiece."Before she
finished the sentence, Wilbur was asleep. She could tell by the sound of his
breathing that he was sleeping peacefully, deep in the straw.
Miles away, at the
Arables' house, the men sat around the kitchen table eating a dish of canned
peaches and talking over the events of the day. Upstairs, Avery was already in
bed and asleep. Mrs. Arable was tucking Fern into bed.
"Did you have a
good time at the Fair?" she asked as she kissed her daughter.
Fern nodded. "I
had the best time I have ever had anywhere or any time in all of my whole
life.""Well!" said Mrs. Arable. "Isn't that nice!"