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Robert Half
ePub
A4Chapter 18: The Cool Of The Evening
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!"
