to the coat rack in the narthex. "Look right behind, where the little opening to the inside of the wall is."
Hildegarde knew the route well. She had entered and exited so often from that tiny hole. Now she scurried over and looked. Behind the coat rack was a glue board, a smallish rectangle, lying on the tile floor where a scurrying church mouse would have undoubtedly have stepped upon it and been caught in such a horrible way.
"Look!" said Trina merrily, and she hopped onto the glue board.
"Don't!" squealed Hildegarde, terrified.
"No, it's quite safe! Let's see..." Trina looked down. "It's the three of hearts. I think Malcolm had that one. See what a good job he did? Fitted it perfectly!" She danced up and down on the three of hearts, which was glued securely over the rectangular trap.
"Amazing," Hildegarde said.
"I put my queen of diamonds on one in the ladies' room, behind the sink, where the pipe comes in. It wasn't easy, Hildegarde, to get the corners straight! But I think we all did a good job."
"You did indeed! Now let's hurry back. We've got to get everyone moved back in before sunrise!"
Side by side, gleeful, the two church mice wriggled under the huge front door and scampered down the steps of Saint Bartholemew's and into the Outdoors.
A light rain was beginning to fall.
Chapter 11
Poor Lucretia!
Now, on Saturday night, the church mice were all back in residence once again. Most had returned to their old nests, finding them undisturbed inside the walls. The glue boards had been carefully explained to them by Hildegarde during her Departure talk, and the mice chuckled each time they skirted one. Seven of hearts, under the kitchen sink. Jack of clubs, in the sexton's closet: Harvey, mischievous, had left some droppings on that one.
There was even a five of spades under the organ console, very close to Hildegarde's sleeping nest. She
pushed it aside with a laugh. Oh, sometime the Great X would return, she knew, summoned again by Father Murphy, who would eventually miss his solitaire cards, and by the sexton, who would be mystified as he found them here and there throughout the church.
The Exterminator page of the telephone book, though, had been carefully eaten. Jeremiah had done it all alone, a big job, but he felt that he needed to atone for not being able to find the fifty-second glue board. His eight of spades was still in the bushes by the church steps, wet now, for it had been drizzling for twenty-four hours.
Hildegarde busied herself throughout the night, reminding the mice that tomorrow was the Feast of Saint Francis, the celebration that ordinarily they watched through the windows and peepholes. But the windy rain had increased during the night, and as the first light came, she made the rounds again, warning them all.
"It will be indoors," she said briskly, trying not to alarm them too much. It had been some years since it had rained on the day of the Blessing of the Animals. Most of the mice were too young to know anything but the outdoor ceremony and its amusing confusion. Ignatious was old enough, but he had been living at the university library then. So even he, with all his knowledge, was unaware of the impending danger.
"Stay hidden," she admonished them over and over. "Deeply hidden."
"I wanna watch!" Harvey whined. "Why can't we watch?"
"There will be cats. Many cats."
"I'm not scared of cats! I could bite cats!" Harvey bared his big crooked front teeth.
Hildegarde shook him. "Listen to me! Cats are our
worst
enemy! You must
fear
cats! And you must watch only from the most hidden and inaccessible places. Inside an air vent. Top of an organ pipe, if you can climb up thereâthey're slippery."
"In a cushion? I could be in a cushion!" Harvey suggested.
"No! Cats have terrible claws. They could rip a cushionâand youâapart in seconds!"
"Oh, darn," Harvey said, and went off sulking.
Hildegarde turned back to the assembled, nervous mice. "Find your hiding places now,"
Hildegarde knew the route well. She had entered and exited so often from that tiny hole. Now she scurried over and looked. Behind the coat rack was a glue board, a smallish rectangle, lying on the tile floor where a scurrying church mouse would have undoubtedly have stepped upon it and been caught in such a horrible way.
"Look!" said Trina merrily, and she hopped onto the glue board.
"Don't!" squealed Hildegarde, terrified.
"No, it's quite safe! Let's see..." Trina looked down. "It's the three of hearts. I think Malcolm had that one. See what a good job he did? Fitted it perfectly!" She danced up and down on the three of hearts, which was glued securely over the rectangular trap.
"Amazing," Hildegarde said.
"I put my queen of diamonds on one in the ladies' room, behind the sink, where the pipe comes in. It wasn't easy, Hildegarde, to get the corners straight! But I think we all did a good job."
"You did indeed! Now let's hurry back. We've got to get everyone moved back in before sunrise!"
Side by side, gleeful, the two church mice wriggled under the huge front door and scampered down the steps of Saint Bartholemew's and into the Outdoors.
A light rain was beginning to fall.
Chapter 11
Poor Lucretia!
Now, on Saturday night, the church mice were all back in residence once again. Most had returned to their old nests, finding them undisturbed inside the walls. The glue boards had been carefully explained to them by Hildegarde during her Departure talk, and the mice chuckled each time they skirted one. Seven of hearts, under the kitchen sink. Jack of clubs, in the sexton's closet: Harvey, mischievous, had left some droppings on that one.
There was even a five of spades under the organ console, very close to Hildegarde's sleeping nest. She
pushed it aside with a laugh. Oh, sometime the Great X would return, she knew, summoned again by Father Murphy, who would eventually miss his solitaire cards, and by the sexton, who would be mystified as he found them here and there throughout the church.
The Exterminator page of the telephone book, though, had been carefully eaten. Jeremiah had done it all alone, a big job, but he felt that he needed to atone for not being able to find the fifty-second glue board. His eight of spades was still in the bushes by the church steps, wet now, for it had been drizzling for twenty-four hours.
Hildegarde busied herself throughout the night, reminding the mice that tomorrow was the Feast of Saint Francis, the celebration that ordinarily they watched through the windows and peepholes. But the windy rain had increased during the night, and as the first light came, she made the rounds again, warning them all.
"It will be indoors," she said briskly, trying not to alarm them too much. It had been some years since it had rained on the day of the Blessing of the Animals. Most of the mice were too young to know anything but the outdoor ceremony and its amusing confusion. Ignatious was old enough, but he had been living at the university library then. So even he, with all his knowledge, was unaware of the impending danger.
"Stay hidden," she admonished them over and over. "Deeply hidden."
"I wanna watch!" Harvey whined. "Why can't we watch?"
"There will be cats. Many cats."
"I'm not scared of cats! I could bite cats!" Harvey bared his big crooked front teeth.
Hildegarde shook him. "Listen to me! Cats are our
worst
enemy! You must
fear
cats! And you must watch only from the most hidden and inaccessible places. Inside an air vent. Top of an organ pipe, if you can climb up thereâthey're slippery."
"In a cushion? I could be in a cushion!" Harvey suggested.
"No! Cats have terrible claws. They could rip a cushionâand youâapart in seconds!"
"Oh, darn," Harvey said, and went off sulking.
Hildegarde turned back to the assembled, nervous mice. "Find your hiding places now,"
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