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-goround

and the voice of the man in the

beano bingo (game of chance) 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 her 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

leftovers 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.

Charlotte 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 is 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 merrygo-

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!"