Read Bless this Mouse Online

Authors: Lois Lowry

Bless this Mouse (10 page)

"If you don't, Lucretia will. Take my word for it."

"Thanks, Ignatious." Hildegarde plodded away.

He called after her. "And then cats! On Sunday: cats!"

As if she weren't already aware of it! Hildegarde waved one paw at him and went to lie down. She had a headache all of a sudden.

Chapter 9
Brave Volunteers Needed!

Two days passed. There were a few squabbles, and one crisis when several of Millicent's mouselets got lost and squealed loudly until they were located and returned to her, but on the whole it was an uneventful time. Hildegarde even noted with satisfaction that several friendships had been formed with some field mice who were already residents of the cemetery. Field mice were a lesser species, of course—not very smart and with unappealingly small ears. But she thought that it was quite benevolent and generous of her clan to befriend them. It crossed her mind that perhaps they could plan, at Christmastime, to distribute small gifts somehow to the needy but worthy population of field mice.

But mostly, her mind was on their return to Saint Bartholemew's. It was Friday evening, October second, and they had been in the cemetery long enough. She was planning to speak from the fountain once again, to give directions for the reentry that night. But she was very nervous.

"I was wondering, Hildegarde, if you would like..."

The voice startled her, and she looked up from her troubled thoughts. Oh, good lord:
Lucretia.

"If I would like
what?
" she asked in a tense voice.

"Perhaps you'd like me to take over, make a speech, give instructions? You seem somewhat uncertain." Lucretia had a sly, malevolent look.

Hildegarde stared at her coldly. "I am never uncertain," she replied. "And at the moment, I am very certain that I would like you to return to your nest and wait there until I give the signal to gather."

Lucretia smirked. "Your wish is my command, Mouse Mistress," she said sarcastically. Then she turned and flounced away, her tail contemptuously erect.

***

"Ignatious," Hildegarde said, "I really don't know quite what to tell them. There will be such dangers to face. We can describe the poison, assuming it will be there—"

"It will be there. We can be sure of it."

"And order them to eat nothing at all but their regular fare. Cookie crumbs, pizza crust, wedding cake remains, prayer book bindings..."

"Candles and crayons."

"Oh, lord, yes—some of them like that waxy stuff."

"Splenda packets. Those are safe."

"And gumdrops," Hildegarde added, "though I think I'm the only one who knows where he hides them."

"I sometimes eat soap," Ignatious confessed, blushing.

"You do?" She looked at him in surprise.

He nodded. "It makes me burp bubbles," he said, with an embarrassed laugh.

"Well, soap's safe, at least. Shall I just tell them
absolutely nothing unfamiliar, no matter how tempting?
"

"Yes. And mothers must keep an eye on their mouselets. Supervise their eating."

"All right. I'll give that order. But what on earth are we to do about the glue traps, Ignatious? If the Great X has used those? In the dark, when the church mice are scurrying, thinking about food—"

"I shudder to think of it, Hildegarde."

"I can just hear the cries, Ignatious! All of my population, stuck, their little paws glued—"

"Sometimes," he said ominously, "mice lean down to sniff, and then their
nose
becomes glued!"

Hildegarde shuddered. "How do they breathe, then?"

"That's the
point,
Hildegarde. They can't."

She gasped in horror.

"There is a way of getting them loose, once they're trapped," Ignatious said. "But it's very, very difficult and time-consuming. We could perhaps manage to release
one
—but if dozens are caught, well..."

She sighed, and glanced at the sky. The moon had risen. "I have to go speak to them, Ignatious. They must prepare. I'll just have to—"

She was interrupted by a noisy rustle in the nearby shrubbery. Roderick pushed his way through, dragging something white. Behind him scampered Harvey, whining, as usual. "Nobody told me I couldn't! I wasn't doing anything wrong! Just looking for food!"

"Shhh." Hildegarde ordered the little mouse to be quiet. "What's this, Roderick?"

Roderick dropped what he'd been carrying clenched in his big teeth. Then he huffed and puffed, catching his breath, and finally turned to the to sulking little mouse beside him. "I'm not mad at you, Harvey! Stop fussing!"

He looked at Hildegarde and Ignatious. "Harvey here noticed that the sexton put the trash out for tomorrow's collection—"

"Yes, it's Friday. He always puts it out on Friday evenings."

"So Harvey scampered over to check on it, and—"

Harvey wiggled, waved his tail, and squeaked, "I know you told us not to leave the cemetery! But I just went for a
minute!
You know, sometimes there's good stuff in the trash! And I was going to share! I promise I was going to share!"

"Hush, Harvey, we're not upset with you," Hildegarde said impatiently. "What did he find, Roderick?"

Roderick dragged the torn paper—apparently Harvey had already shredded one corner—over to where she and Ignatious were crouched side by side. "The light's terrible," he said, "but can you read it?"

Hildegarde squinted at the paper. Mouse vision was poor; they relied on noses and ears, mostly. She went closer and said, "Move aside, Roderick. You're blocking the moonlight." Dutifully Roderick backed up so that the full light of the risen moon illuminated the paper.

"Pest-B-Gone," she read aloud, and made a face.

Ignatious came to stand beside her and looked down as well at the paper. "Invoice," he read.

"What's
invoice?
" asked Harvey. "I don't know what
invoice
means! In voice? Is it about singing? I'm pretty good at singing! Listen!" He warbled briefly, "
Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in theeeee...

"Am I in voice? Huh? Huh?"

"Quiet, Harvey. It just means 'bill.' It's what Father Murphy had to pay the Great X." Ignatious looked at the amount written near the bottom of the page, after "total." "Yikes!" he said in astonishment. "It was a lot!"

Hildegarde was leaning forward over the paper. "We don't care what he paid. They collect that offering every Sunday. They're rich. But look here, Ignatious! Here's the information we needed!" With one paw she pointed to the lines of text above the total amount.

"Good," Ignatious said. "He's listed the kind of poison. I know what that looks like. So we can give specific instructions about what not to nibble. But what's that written lower down? I have difficulty seeing even in the best light. Getting old! Can you read that, Hildegarde?"

"Yes. It's what we feared. He calls them 'glue boards,'" she said.

"
Glue boards?
What're
glue boards?
Like snow boards? Like skateboards? I know what those are!" Harvey arranged his rear paws as if he were on a skateboard, and stood erect, pretending to balance with his front paws. "Look! Watch me! Kickflip! A one-eighty ollie! I'm really cool!"

"STOP IT!" Hildegarde ordered him angrily.

Harvey retreated, sulking, into the bushes.

The adults ignored him. "Read the rest, about the glue boards," Ignatious said in a worried voice.

"It doesn't say anything else. Just the number, and the price."

"What number?" asked Roderick. "How many?"

Hildegarde peered at the paper again. "Fifty-two," she told them.

Ignatious gave an
oof
sound, as if he'd been punched in the belly. "Fifty-two glue boards!" he said gloomily. "How on earth can we deal with that?"

Hildegarde had risen to stand on her back legs. Her tail steadied her. She was silent for a moment, in that commanding position. Then she said to Ignatious and Roderick (but not to Harvey, who had scampered off through the foliage, doing fake skateboard moves), "I have an idea. I think I know exactly what to do."

***

Hildegarde gave instructions to Ignatious and Roderick in a firm, decisive voice. "Spread the word," she said. "Immediately! I want fifty-two volunteers. I need the bravest and strongest among us. Line them up right here. As soon as possible. There is no time to lose!"

"Must they all be male?" Roderick asked. "There's that very strong pair of females: Trina and Jean. They're always doing pushups."

"They'd be perfect. Male, female, doesn't matter. Trina and Jean will be fine. Strong! And brave! That's what we want.

"Get going! We don't have much time!" She shooed Ignatious and Roderick off on their mission.

Within ten minutes, fifty-two strong, brave mice—including Trina, Jean, and several other females—had lined up to await instructions from Hildegarde. She moved among them, explaining, gesturing, describing, encouraging.

"Could we help, Hildegarde?" Roderick asked. "Ignatious and I ... I know we're not young. Maybe not strong! But we're brave! Aren't we, Ignatious?" He looked over at the elderly, scholarly mouse.

Ignatious cleared his throat self-consciously. "Well, I try to be, of course. I do enjoy
reading
about great bravery. Goodness, once in the university library, I nibbled at the edges of a list of Congressional Medal of Honor winners, and I remember thinking,
What if I found myself...
" His voice trailed off. Then he said in a soft voice, "No. I'm not brave. Sorry."

"You're wise, Ignatious. That's important, too," Hildegarde said, to comfort him, for he looked quite embarrassed and sad. "And you, Roderick? I need you here with me and Ignatious. We must count the numbers who return."

"
Who return?
" Roderick asked. "You mean—?"

"That's right. We may lose some brave souls tonight." She turned to the crowd of waiting mice. "Volunteers?"

Fifty-two enthusiastic squeaks responded to her. "It's time," she told them. "You all have your instructions. Do your best! Do your duty! Our prayers are with you! Now go!"

Moving in silence now, with no squeaks, no farewells, the fifty-two brave mice turned and marched in line toward Saint Bartholemew's.

Chapter 10
One Mouse Is Missing!

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