by Lynne Jonell
Buck patted Raston on the back. “Mother will make you some hot cocoa, if you want to come back to the loft.”
The Rat shook his head violently. “I don’t want to sit around. Isn’t there something we can do?”
“I know what you mean,” said Joe suddenly. “You want to hit somebody, or do something dangerous, or work so hard you can’t think anymore.”
Emmy looked across the green. The light in the attic of the shoe shop was still on. “I know something we could do,” she said slowly. “Rescue those tiny girls.”
“Oh, now she wants to rescue somebody,” said the Rat bitterly.
“What tiny girls?” Joe narrowed his rodent eyes. “And who asked you, anyway?”
Emmy stared at him, stung.
“Listen,” Meg said firmly. “Emmy went to the attic at the Home for Troubled Girls, and she saw tiny footprints in the dust. And later, when she was in the attic at Mr. Peebles’s house, she saw a girl a few inches tall standing on the windowsill.”
Joe frowned. “So?”
“Those are the girls on the cane,” said Meg. “They wrote the note that was tied on the stick, and they’re waiting for someone to help them escape.”
Joe looked suddenly interested.
“How do you know so much about it?” the Rat asked suspiciously.
“Because I told her,” said Emmy. “But there’s more. Miss Barmy is up to something, and maybe—”
“Hey!” Raston looked up. “There’s an insulated wire that goes from Peebles’s attic to theirs—we’re all rodents, we can run across it—”
“No, we should rig up a sort of pulley, with a basket,” interrupted Buck excitedly. “We have to have something to carry the girls back in, right?”
“Yeah!” said Joe, his pale fur sticking out in every direction. “We can go in tonight and get them out by morning!”
“I can help,” said Emmy. “I can help you rig the line, and attach the basket, and do anything that needs somebody full-sized.”
The rodents were silent.
Emmy pressed on, her voice wavering slightly. “And then maybe one of you can go to Rodent City and try to find out what Miss Barmy and Cheswick are planning. It might be important, you never know …”
A sudden spasm of irritation crossed Joe’s face. “Stop trying to take over, will you? Why don’t you just leave it all to us? Then you can sit around and do nothing. That’s what you’re best at, anyway.”
Emmy flushed.
“We don’t need your help,” said the Rat bitterly. “If you want to figure out the Barmster’s plans, then why don’t you just shrink yourself and do it?”
“Fine,” Emmy said furiously. “Shrink me.”
“Gladly,” said the Rat, chomping down on her finger harder than necessary.
“No!” cried Joe, but it was too late. Emmy was already dwindling, down and down. Meg watched in horrified fascination.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Joe coldly. “I hope you don’t mind being doll-sized for the rest of your life.”
“Oh …” said Emmy. She tried to shrug. “So what? Sissy’s been found. Even if she’s unconscious, all I have to do is put my cheek next to her mouth and it will be just like a kiss.”
“Doesn’t work,” said Joe succinctly. “I already tried it, when we brought her in.”
Emmy swallowed hard.
“So if she never regains consciousness, then—” He glared at Emmy, whiskers bristling.
He didn’t have to finish the sentence; Emmy knew. He’d be a rat forever. And she’d stay four inches tall.
THE LIGHT FLICKED OFF. The heavy attic door shut with a boom. Five tiny girls, alone at last, slumped in weariness and relief in the sudden darkness.
Ana rubbed her eyes, sore from the glare of the naked bulb overhead. Someone—Merry, from the size—pressed close beside her and whimpered.
“Let’s not cry,” Ana suggested firmly. She coughed, turning her head. “Go on, get in bed. There’s a little light from the window; you can find your way.”
“Aren’t you coming, too?” Merry asked.
“Soon. Go to bed now; you’ve been up half the night.”
Berit touched her arm. “Ana,” she said in a low, urgent voice, “why did Miss Barmy and Cheswick work us so hard? I mean, cutting those mirror circles over and over, and you with the archery—why did they keep wanting us to do it faster?”
“Mr. B said the mirrors were for a contest,” Lisa said faintly. “Right, Lee?”
“Right,” said Lee, sounding exhausted. “A beauty pageant for rats.”
“But I still don’t get the archery part,” Berit insisted. “Then climbing, and hauling that hole saw up and down—what for?”
Ana tried to answer and began to cough. “I don’t know,” she managed at last.
“That’s another thing.” The worry in Berit’s voice sounded like anger. “You’ve got a bad cough, you’re sick, but they never even gave you a rest.”
Ana nodded without speaking. She wasn’t going to tell Berit, but it wasn’t just a cough. As the day had turned to evening, her throat had grown sore, and her head hot. Now, long past bedtime, it was all she could do to keep herself from shaking with chills.
“Come on, Merry.” Berit nudged the younger girls toward their beds. “At least they didn’t put us in that old shoebox. I guess they know we can get out of it now.”
Ana lay on the lowest shelf, listening to the girls’ steady breathing. Tired as she was, she couldn’t fall asleep. Berit’s question kept echoing—“What for?” Mr. B could have cut those mirrors faster by himself. And as for shooting an arrow with fishing line attached over the third shelf, and hauling the circle saw up and down—well, anytime Miss Barmy wanted something on the third shelf, all she had to do was ask her father to reach for it. No, it made no sense at all.
Ana tossed back her covers, suddenly hot again, and looked up toward the window. It shone palely, lit by a moon she could not see.
Had the dark-haired girl come back, she wondered? Hours ago, Mr. B had left them alone while he went down for his supper. Tired though she was, Ana had unhooked the carefully hidden ladders and climbed to the windowsill, longing for a glimpse of freedom. And there had been a girl in the opposite window, calling to her!
Of course, she might have been speaking to the children in the yard below. But for one brief moment, Ana had felt sure that the girl had seen her. Maybe she was waiting at the window this very minute, hoping that Ana would show up again.
Shivering and feverish by turns, Ana crept across the dusty wooden floor and up the shoelace ladder. At last she pulled herself up over the window ledge, breathing hard.
There! A light was on in the attic room!
Ana peered intently through the dirty glass. She could see a lamp, casting a pink glow onto a low table. Next to it was the edge of a bed, and an arm in red-striped pajamas, and the back of a smooth blond head.
She frowned. The girl she’d seen before had dark hair. Who was this?
A spell of coughing shook her. When she glanced up again, there was movement by the half-open window across the way. It was something small. Something with a tail.
Suddenly Ana realized she was gazing at a chipmunk that she had seen once before, through a pinhole in their shoebox. He had been wearing a tux then, and he had been kissing Miss Barmy’s paw. What was he called? Chippy, that was it … and he had told Miss Barmy that he would do anything she said …
Ana looked more closely. Was it the same chipmunk? If not, this one was like enough to be his brother … No, she was pretty sure it was the same one. And he was doing something with—well, it was hard to see in the half-light, but it might be a pulley.
Now what would one of Miss Barmy’s loyal chipmunks be doing with a pulley in the middle of the night?
Two rats suddenly joined him, one gray and one light-colored, hauling a small basket between them. Ana’s heart sank. Were all the rodents on Miss Barmy’s side?
Maybe they were
. Miss Barmy was organizing a whole beauty pageant for the rats; they must all think she was wonderful.
Ana closed her eyes, weary to the bone. She didn’t know what the rodents across the way were doing, and she didn’t care. Her legs trembled beneath her with weakness and fever, and when at last she reached the floor, it was all she could do to drag herself to her pallet on the shelf.
Well, she had learned one thing, at least. She had better not trust any rodents.
“Criminy!” said Joe, sliding down from the windowsill on his furry backside and turning an involuntary somersault on the carpet. “I’m glad that’s done! I’ve got a crick in my neck from holding that pulley still while you rigged it.”
“Not to mention screwing the hook to the wall on the other house,” said the Rat grumpily. “And crawling out on the wire. That was a squirrel’s job, if you ask me.”
“I would have crawled out on the wire, Ratty,” said Joe wistfully, “if it wasn’t for my ankle.”
“Well, you can test the basket,” said Buck, wiping the grease off his paws. “And then we can move on to Phase Two.”
The Rat sprawled in the glow from a small pink lamp and patted his stomach. “Does Phase Two involve eating? Because I’m starved.”
Joe pricked up his furry ears. “Is there anything to eat around here?”
“Not unless you brought it in your suitcase,” said Buck dryly.
Joe thought for a moment. “I’ll bet my brother brought something. He never travels without supplies.” He trotted over to the bed, where Thomas’s pajama-clad arm hung down over the side, and hooked a claw into the red-and-white-striped sleeve.
“Careful,” Buck warned.
“Hey!” Joe tugged recklessly at Thomas’s pajama sleeve.
Thomas snorted in his sleep and rolled over.
“Yikes!” Joe cried, as Thomas’s arm flipped him up and across, landing the scruffy blond rat on top of the bedspread. Joe disengaged his claws, and shook his head to clear it. “The kid’s stronger than I thought.”
“Keep out of range,” the Rat advised, “and throw something at him.”
“Yell in his ear, but stay alert,” Buck suggested.
Thomas flung up an arm, narrowly missing his brother, and rolled on his back, snuffling in his sleep. Joe leaped onto Thomas’s chest and dug in his claws. “Wake up, you doof!”
Thomas opened his eyes and gave a sudden yelp. “Get off!”
“Oh, shut up, Thomas. It’s me, Joe. Did you bring any snacks?”
Thomas climbed back into bed, looking rumpled, sleepy, and worried. His suitcase was unzipped, and a bag of chips lay open on the floor. There was a steady sound of crunching from the rodents.
“I don’t believe it,” Thomas said suddenly, burrowing under the covers. “Emmy’s nice. She wouldn’t be mean to Sissy, like you said.”
“Believe it,” said Joe sourly. “She was mean, all right.”
“But not on purpose!” Thomas flared. “Emmy wouldn’t.” He stuck his head under the pillow and put his hands to his ears.
“Well, maybe not on purpose,” Joe conceded.
“It was just as bad for Sissy, on purpose or not,” said the Rat. He dropped a barbecue-flavored chip on the rug. “I guess I’m not that hungry after all.”
“What’s he doing now?” muttered Joe, watching the Rat as he scrambled to the windowsill and peered out, pressing his nose against the glass.
Buck glanced over. “He’s probably checking to see if the professor’s truck is back yet from the vet’s. Now, listen, about Phase Two …”
Joe swallowed a mouthful of chip. “What do you mean? We rigged the whole thing, pulleys and basket and line and all. We should be able to rescue the girls, no problem.”
Buck shrugged his striped shoulders. “How do you plan to get in?”
“Well, the window, of course.”
“It’s closed, though,” Buck said, brushing crumbs from his whiskers. “And breaking it would make a lot of noise, and it’s dangerous, too.”
“We could try to find a way in,” said Joe persuasively. “There’s probably a hole there somewhere.”
“True,” agreed Buck, biting into another chip with a crunch. “According to the paper-delivery gopher, there’s a way up between the walls to the second floor. But that’s watched by the B’s, and Barmy and Cheswick, too. And even if we get past them, we still have to bring the little girls down somehow. Humans just aren’t built for that kind of work. Their claws aren’t long enough, and they have no tail for balance.”
Joe looked at his own tail thoughtfully, and nodded.
“They can’t scamper,” said the Rat with finality, turning from the window. “Not even their wide receivers, no matter what the announcers say.”
Buck ignored him. “Besides, it will be better to bring them straight back here. They won’t be safe in Rodent City—not with Miss Barmy twisting everyone around her paw. Even my own brother loves her,” he added, staring morosely at the rug.
Joe lifted a hind leg to his ear, and scratched. “So how do we get in, then?”
Buck straightened. “I think, for Phase Two, we should gnaw a hole in their wall. Beside the window frame, maybe.”
“Gnaw a hole? With our teeth?” The Rat was aghast. “Do you have any idea what that will do to my dental alignment? And I already have an overbite!”
“Rodent teeth are made to gnaw,” said Joe, who had already discovered a surprising urge to nibble at the bedposts. “But it’s going to take an awfully long time.”
“Right,” said Buck, dusting off his paws. “We’d better get started, then.”
Ana woke up with the sun in her eyes and a confused memory of a dream in which someone had been chewing wood. The dream vanished as soon as she tried to remember it—but the sound of steadily grinding teeth went on and on.
“It’s coming from up there.” Merry, the only other one awake, pointed solemnly toward the window.
Ana sat up, and instantly wished she hadn’t. Her throat was scratchy, her joints ached, and she had a killing headache. She lay back down.
“Are you going to climb up to see?”
“Get Berit to do it,” Ana whispered, her throat like sandpaper.
With her eyes closed, she listened as Berit sat up, grumbling, and headed off to the ladder. Ana drifted in and out of wakefulness, and woke in what seemed like a moment to Berit breathing in her face.
“It’s two rats and a chipmunk!” Berit’s words tumbled out rapidly in her excitement. “I think they’re trying to get in!”
Ana steadied herself by gripping the sides of her pallet. “All right. We’ve got to hide.” She stared at Merry and Berit confusedly for a moment, trying to clear her head. Something wasn’t making sense. Why did they have to hide? Oh, wait—the chipmunk. He had something to do with Miss Barmy, though she couldn’t remember just what.
“Do you think they found the note?” asked Berit. “Maybe they’re like Cheswick and Miss Barmy. I mean, maybe they can talk, and read, and things.”
Ana frowned, confused. “All I know is they’re on Miss Barmy’s side.”
“Then why come through the wall? Why not come in the door with her?” Berit asked reasonably.
“I don’t know!” Ana cried. “But I saw the chipmunk kiss Miss Barmy’s paw, and he said that he’d do anything she said, anything at all—” She broke off, coughing.
“Okay,” said Berit, “but why hide? I could see it yesterday—anybody that Mrs. B lets in, I’ll hide from—but rats are small, and they’ve got to come through the hole one by one. We could just bash them on the head when they come in.”
Merry nodded, her cheeks flushed. “Bash!” she echoed, and began to cough. Lisa and Lee sat up in bed.
Heavy feet shuffled outside the big attic door, and a key turned in the lock. Merry muffled her cough. Ana pulled her close. Whatever was planned for them today, she would try to get them to leave Merry out of it. The little girl was getting sick.
Miss Barmy
and Cheswick pattered in, followed closely by Mr. and Mrs. B. The vibration of the floor under their weight must have been felt through the walls, for the gnawing sound outside the window suddenly stopped.
“Oh, joy, the gang’s all here,” muttered Berit.
Ana didn’t answer. She was studying Mr. B, who wore a pair of work overalls and carried a metal lunch bucket. He sat down on a stool, unsnapped the buckles, flipped open the lid, and waited expectantly, looking at the piebald rat who was his daughter.
“In you go,” said Miss Barmy.
The girls looked at her blankly.
Miss Barmy tapped her claws against the floor. “Wake up, girls. I let you sleep in, but I see it was a mistake. Get—in—the—lunch—pail. You’re going to work.”
Berit flung herself up and over the side with a disgusted grunt. Lisa and Lee followed.
Ana stepped forward, her arm around Merry. “Please, can Merry have a rest today? She’s sick.”
Miss Barmy crooked a claw at Ana. “You—the biggest one—come here. Now, listen closely. Here’s what I want you to do.”
Ana listened carefully, hoping that if she did so Merry would be allowed to stay in bed. She watched as Cheswick loaded the lunch pail with things she recognized from the day before: the metal ring that cut through mirrors, the pencil push-bars, the central pole with a suction cup at the bottom, the small round platform, the bow and arrows, a coil of fishing line. Then he added a cloth sack with a drawstring, and a shoelace ladder that he must have found among their things.
Speaking in Ana’s ear, Miss Barmy described, step by step, what she wanted done. Trying hard to concentrate in spite of fever and headache, Ana obediently repeated the instructions, in order. But as she said them aloud, her voice slowed. Suddenly, listening to her own voice, she realized what she was saying.
“What’s the matter? Go on!”
Ana stared at the piebald rat, appalled. “No. I won’t do it.”
Miss Barmy narrowed her eyes.
“You can’t make me,” said Ana, her voice rising. “I refuse.”
Cheswick tapped his clipboard. Mr. B looked alarmed.
Miss Barmy lifted her upper lip and smiled, her prominent front teeth large and gleaming. “Mother,” she said, “I’m going to let the littlest girl stay back, after all.”
