Chapter 22

           AndsoWilburcamehometohisbelovedmanurepileinthebarncellar.Hiswasastrangehomecoming.Aroundhisneckheworeamedalofhonor;inhismouthheheldasacofspider’seggs.Thereisnoplacelikehome,Wilburthought,asheplacedCharlotte’sfivehundredandfourteenunbornchildrencarefullyinasafecorner.Thebarnsmelledgood.Hisfriendsthesheepandthegeeseweregladtoseehimback.

           Thegeesegavehimanoisywelcome.

           "Congratu-congratu-congratulations!"theycried.

           "Nicework."

           Mr.ZuckermantookthemedalfromWilbur’sneckandhungitonanailoverthepigpen,wherevisitorscouldexamineit.Wilburhimselfcouldlookatitwheneverhewantedto.

           Inthedaysthatfollowed,hewasveryhappy.Hegrewtoagreatsize.Henolongerworriedaboutbeingkilled,forheknewthatMr.Zuckermanwouldkeephimaslongashelived.WilburoftenthoughtofCharlotte.Afewstrandsofheroldwebstillhunginthedoorway.EverydayWilburwouldstandandlookatthetorn,emptyweb,andalumpwouldcometohisthroat.Noonehadeverhadsuchafriend-soaffectionate,soloyal,andsoskillful.

           Theautumndaysgrewshorter,Lurvybroughtthesquashesandpumpkinsinfromthegardenandpiledthemonthebarnfloor,wheretheywouldn’tgetnippedonfrostynights.Themaplesandbirchesturnedbrightcolorsandthewindshookthemandtheydroppedtheirleavesonebyonetotheground.Underthewildappletreesinthepasture,theredlittleappleslaythickontheground,andthesheepknawedthemandthegeesegnawedthemandfoxescameinthenightandsniffedthem.