she said, "because..." She assessed the light through the stained-glass windows. Rain made light very different, so it was hard to tell the time. "...it may be starting before long. Listen for the organ. When Trevor Fisoli begins to practice, you must absolutely be hidden."
Hildegarde watched as all of them, even Harvey, obediently scampered off to hide themselves. Oh, she hoped she could keep them safe! They were so dear to her! Most of them, anyway.
"Where's Lucretia?" she asked Roderick, who was by her side. "I haven't seen Lucretia this morning."
He shrugged. "Dunno. Probably up to no good."
"Well, I hope she has a hiding place planned. How about you, Roderick? Where are you headed?"
"Not sure. I was thinking about maybe under the mop in the sexton's closet. He won't be cleaning this morning."
"Well, he will be, but it'll be when the ceremony ends. He'll have to clean up after the animals. You know they lose control, often. Disgusting. Dogs especially."
"Think he'll need his mop?" Roderick asked.
"Probably. Especially if that horse comes."
"Well, I'd better find a different place, then. Where are you going, Hildegarde?"
She hesitated. She was planning to head to the sacristy, her own special, private place. She thought that she might be able to peek through the keyhole of the sacristy door and get a bit of a glimpse. Was it selfish to keep a place so private and out-of-bounds only for herself? Maybe it was. And Roderick was so very loyal, andâyes, she had to admitâsweet. So she gave in.
"Come with me, Roderick. We'll go to the sacristy. We can curl up under the surplices while Father Murphy vests himself. Then, after he leaves, we'll have the room to ourselves and I think I can figure out a way to peek at the ceremony."
"The sacristy? I'm honored, Hildegarde. Thank you!" Roderick indeed looked very grateful and affectionate. Hildegarde knew, actually, that he had a bit of a crush on her. She had always thought that they were too old for that kind of foolishness. But now? With cats about to enter the church? With dangers to face? It seemed, for the first time, important to have a special friend.
They could hear Trevor Fisoli arrive and mount the stairs to the organ loft. In a moment he would start the resounding chords that always began his practice. Hildegarde and Roderick, side by side, scampered hastily to the sacristy to hide themselves.
But when they entered the small, quiet space, they were alarmed to hear a terrible cry. It was somewhat muffled, coming from the corner near the closet where the most important chasubles, albs, and stoles were stored. Hildegarde and Roderick froze. It was clearly the cry of a mouse. A wail, a scream! Somewhere in this room a mouseâone of
her
mice, Hildegarde realizedâwas suffering some kind of horrible torture.
They rushed forward, pushed the bottom of the thick draperies aside, and saw the catastrophe immediately. It was Lucretia, caught by all four feet, and her tail, as well, adhered to the only uncarded glue board.
Eight of spades,
Hildegarde thought.
This one should have been the eight of spades.
Lucretia's face was contorted with fear and pain. Even as she shook her head, screaming, some of her whiskers were caught. One was pulled out! How awful, to lose a whisker!
In the background, they heard Trevor begin to play scales. Then he ran through "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," one of his favorite practice pieces.
Lucretia howled.
"Oh, what should we do? What can we do?" Roderick whimpered. He began to run in frenzied circles.
"Don't touch it!" Hildegarde commanded. She feared that in his panic he would grab at the trap and become caught himself. "Be still for a moment! You're distracting me, and I need to think."
"And Lucretia? Be quiet!" she ordered. What on earth was Lucretia doing in here, anyway? This was Hildegarde's private space!
She did remember the remedy that Ignatious had described. But my goodness! It was almost impossible. "Olive
Hildegarde watched as all of them, even Harvey, obediently scampered off to hide themselves. Oh, she hoped she could keep them safe! They were so dear to her! Most of them, anyway.
"Where's Lucretia?" she asked Roderick, who was by her side. "I haven't seen Lucretia this morning."
He shrugged. "Dunno. Probably up to no good."
"Well, I hope she has a hiding place planned. How about you, Roderick? Where are you headed?"
"Not sure. I was thinking about maybe under the mop in the sexton's closet. He won't be cleaning this morning."
"Well, he will be, but it'll be when the ceremony ends. He'll have to clean up after the animals. You know they lose control, often. Disgusting. Dogs especially."
"Think he'll need his mop?" Roderick asked.
"Probably. Especially if that horse comes."
"Well, I'd better find a different place, then. Where are you going, Hildegarde?"
She hesitated. She was planning to head to the sacristy, her own special, private place. She thought that she might be able to peek through the keyhole of the sacristy door and get a bit of a glimpse. Was it selfish to keep a place so private and out-of-bounds only for herself? Maybe it was. And Roderick was so very loyal, andâyes, she had to admitâsweet. So she gave in.
"Come with me, Roderick. We'll go to the sacristy. We can curl up under the surplices while Father Murphy vests himself. Then, after he leaves, we'll have the room to ourselves and I think I can figure out a way to peek at the ceremony."
"The sacristy? I'm honored, Hildegarde. Thank you!" Roderick indeed looked very grateful and affectionate. Hildegarde knew, actually, that he had a bit of a crush on her. She had always thought that they were too old for that kind of foolishness. But now? With cats about to enter the church? With dangers to face? It seemed, for the first time, important to have a special friend.
They could hear Trevor Fisoli arrive and mount the stairs to the organ loft. In a moment he would start the resounding chords that always began his practice. Hildegarde and Roderick, side by side, scampered hastily to the sacristy to hide themselves.
But when they entered the small, quiet space, they were alarmed to hear a terrible cry. It was somewhat muffled, coming from the corner near the closet where the most important chasubles, albs, and stoles were stored. Hildegarde and Roderick froze. It was clearly the cry of a mouse. A wail, a scream! Somewhere in this room a mouseâone of
her
mice, Hildegarde realizedâwas suffering some kind of horrible torture.
They rushed forward, pushed the bottom of the thick draperies aside, and saw the catastrophe immediately. It was Lucretia, caught by all four feet, and her tail, as well, adhered to the only uncarded glue board.
Eight of spades,
Hildegarde thought.
This one should have been the eight of spades.
Lucretia's face was contorted with fear and pain. Even as she shook her head, screaming, some of her whiskers were caught. One was pulled out! How awful, to lose a whisker!
In the background, they heard Trevor begin to play scales. Then he ran through "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring," one of his favorite practice pieces.
Lucretia howled.
"Oh, what should we do? What can we do?" Roderick whimpered. He began to run in frenzied circles.
"Don't touch it!" Hildegarde commanded. She feared that in his panic he would grab at the trap and become caught himself. "Be still for a moment! You're distracting me, and I need to think."
"And Lucretia? Be quiet!" she ordered. What on earth was Lucretia doing in here, anyway? This was Hildegarde's private space!
She did remember the remedy that Ignatious had described. But my goodness! It was almost impossible. "Olive
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