Mrs. Treaclebunny gave her a withering glance and gunned it.
Down in the factory basement, the Grand Poobah had been advancing toothily upon Flo and Mildred when a bevy of fox waitresses appeared with trays of finger food that the Grand Poobah had forgotten he had ordered.
“Ah! Tea!” he said. And then, because breeding will tell, he had offered the trays to everyone, including Flo and Mildred, whom he still aspired to teach at least one word of Fox. By now it had become a personal challenge.
They were all having a delightful munch when suddenly there was the sound of dogs howling and barking.
“What’s that sound, man?” Flo asked the Grand Poobah.
“Not ‘What’s that sound,’ you idiotoman. I said ‘Zamboosidoey,’ which means ‘Have a sandwich.’ Now try it again.”
“No, I mean the barking,” said Flo.
“There is no barking. There are no dogs for miles around. Do you not think we would check before buying a factory? Now try it again, ‘Zamboosidoey.’ ”
“I hear it, too,” said Mildred. “Dogs.”
“You wish,” said the Grand Poobah.
Just then, Frederick came barreling down the stairs, knocking foxes and their trays of finger food over in his haste. “Poobah! Poobah! HOUNDS! A FOX HUNT!”
“Curses! Frankie Fox, pack up the food in Tupperwares and let’s GET OUT OF HERE!” yelled the Grand Poobah. “ME FIRST!” and he ran up the stairs, followed by all the foxes except Frankie, who was frantically putting sandwiches into containers, until at last he fled as well.
“Now we’ll never learn Fox,” whined Flo.
But then something even more astonishing happened. Dozens of hounds jumped out from every door and window. And oddly, they were all hopping. Leading the way down the stairs was Madeline!
“FLO!” she shouted. “MILDRED! You’re alive!”
“Yeah, but man, like I said, I think I was just on the verge of a breakthrough in Fox. Like ten more minutes and I would have had it, man.”
“How did you know we were here?” asked Mildred, glaring at Flo. They had been tied back to back for several days and she had just about had it with him.
“It’s a long story,” said Madeline, running over to untie her parents, and told them about Uncle Runyon’s coma and the Bunnys. “But are you sure you’re okay? I’ve been so worried!”
Then, remembering how worried she had been even a couple of hours previously, Madeline began to cry in relief. And once she started she couldn’t stop.
Flo looked at her as if she were from the moon.
“But hey, we are all right, man!” he said. “Like, I don’t have to learn Fox. I could study, like, Hindi maybe.”
“There, there,” said Mildred awkwardly. She could remember Madeline being exasperated plenty of times. She had experience dealing with that. But this crying business was brand-new. “No need to worry. As you can see, we’re just fine. Although I may have to go on a spiritual retreat very soon to rebalance my chakras.”
“Cool,” said Flo. “I could, like, totally get into doing that with you.”
“No, you couldn’t,” said Mildred. “Anyhow, good finding, Madeline. As usual, you were very efficient.”
“Yeah, man, we had faith in you. We figured you’d probably find us. Or, like, find something else.”
“You have faith in me? Find something else? What else?” said Madeline. “And weren’t you just a little worried? Or worried that I’d be worried?”
“Mostly I was worried that you wouldn’t find us. Like, I’ve got faith in you, but even we didn’t know where we were,” said Flo. “Or I worried, you know, I would never learn Fox. The Grand Poobah kept losing it. Man, that dude shouldn’t be a teacher. He’s got, like, a low frustration tolerance.”
Oh, I give up, thought Madeline. Then she realized she very nearly hadn’t found them and she began a whole new meltdown. She sobbed again, this time with a dripping nose and a lot of snorting, snorking noises. One of the SWAT team members handed her a handkerchief. Another wrapped her in a quilt the bunnies made for victims, having looked at Flo and Mildred and decided Madeline qualified.
“Now what?” asked Flo. “I’ve never seen you like this. You seem, like, stressed.”
“OF COURSE I’M STRESSED!” screamed Madeline.
“C’mon, chill out, dude,” said Flo, looking at her in alarm and patting her gingerly on the back.
“I think we all need a little lavender essential oil,” said Mildred. “We’ll check on Runyon and then go home and douse ourselves with it. Maybe Runyon has some. Do you think?”
A SWAT team member finally got the ropes binding Flo and Mildred loose, and after shaking out their limbs, they went over and hugged Madeline.
“I very much doubt Uncle has lavender essential oil,” said Madeline dryly, wiping away her tears.
“But, man, it was an experience. Talking foxes. They spoke English! Way cool.”
“Are you starving? Did they feed you?”
“Oh, yes, we had, uh, excellent finger food,” said Mildred. “Eggplant-paste sandwiches.”
“Yeah, those foxes are all right!” said Flo.
“They are not,” said the chief with affronted dignity. “Whatever foxes are, they are certainly not all right.”
“We had crudités and dip and stuffed mushrooms. Too bad they packed it in Tupperwares and took it with them,” said Flo.
“Speaking of mushrooms, I’m beginning to feel like one. Can we go outside now?” said Mildred, rubbing her aching arms where they had been tied up.
Outside, Mrs. Bunny and Mrs. Treaclebunny waved joyfully at Madeline. When they had first arrived at the factory, Mrs. Treaclebunny had started to follow Madeline inside, but Mrs. Bunny had suggested this should be a private moment for Madeline and her parents. Mrs. Treaclebunny had said “Bollocks” and kept hopping, so Mrs. Bunny had had to knock her down and sit on her. She was loath to get up now. Mrs. Treaclebunny made a very comfy seat.
The SWAT team members who had been patrolling around the factory were taking off their cumbersome fake hound heads and wiping the sweat from their foreheads now that it was clear the danger was past.
Tsk, tsk, they will need a furatologist for sure, thought Mrs. Bunny.
“I can never thank you enough,” said Madeline to the chief of the SWAT team as they all converged.
“All in a day’s work, all in a day’s work,” said the chief. “I think Rabbitville can sleep safely tonight.”
“But won’t the foxes come back?” asked Madeline.
“Not once they’ve heard hounds,” said the chief. “No, they’ve abandoned this site for good. They’ll start up somewhere else. They always do. But the Treaclebunny factory is safe from them. And I should think you are too. You’ve got the taint of hounds on you now. That’s what we call it. The taint of hounds. Once foxes associate you with a fox hunt, they stay clear of you forever.”
Mr. Bunny, who had just pulled up in the Smart car, saw Madeline with what could only be her parents and zipped right over.
“Everyone’s safe? Thank goodness. Mrs. Bunny, you should have waited for me, but never mind. And how do you do?” He turned to Flo and Mildred. “You are the irresponsible, wretched Flo and Mildred, I presume?”
“Don’t be rude,” hissed Mrs. Bunny. “He means, uh, happy to meet you.”
“I do not,” said Mr. Bunny. “For a long time now I’ve wanted to give the two of you a piece of my mind and …”
But Flo and Mildred didn’t seem to hear him. Through all the bunnies’ talk, they stared blankly. Now Mildred turned to Madeline and said, “Were you talking to that rabbit?”
“Of course I was,” said Madeline. “Didn’t you hear anything they said?”
“Well, we heard something,” said Flo. “But nothing we could understand. Do you understand Rabbit? You know, I think I did pick up a certain amount of Fox the last few days. Try this—Parlez-vous foxeroo?”
“That’s French,” said Mr. Bunny
coldly, but Flo, of course, didn’t understand him.
“Well, perhaps you’d like to translate,” said Mr. Bunny to Madeline. “You can tell your father that of all the irresponsible, careless excuses for a father—”
“No need, Mr. Bunny,” said Madeline hastily. “I’m fine. And I figure if they can survive by caring for themselves so well, then maybe I don’t have to change so many lightbulbs for them either. Maybe from now on they can change a few of their own. It actually makes me feel kind of … free. Does that make sense?”
“Not to me,” said Mr. Bunny, giving Flo a swift kick in the shin.
“Ow,” said Flo. “That’s a mean bunny.”
“You ain’t seen nothing yet!” yelled Mr. Bunny, preparing to launch another frontal assault, but Mrs. Bunny restrained him and turned to Madeline.
“It makes perfect sense,” she said. “I think you’re quite wise. Now, I don’t know about you, but I could use a nice soothing cup of tea.”
“Me too,” said Madeline.
“Well, never mind, some people will no doubt get what’s coming to them someday,” said Mr. Bunny, squaring his shoulders with dignity. He turned to Mrs. Bunny and said sotto voce, “You realize, if you weren’t here I would have pulverized that ridiculous hippie.”
“I know, dear,” said Mrs. Bunny. “You’re quite fierce. But I don’t think it’s what Madeline wants. Let’s go get a cake out of the freezer.”
“Ooo,” said Mr. Bunny. “Cake!”
But perhaps Mr. Bunny would have been gratified had he heard what the foxes were saying at that moment. While the bunnies and Flo and Mildred were sorting themselves out, the foxes were speeding in their car past the edge of the Cowichan Valley and up a mountain until they found a house, empty, with a FOR SALE sign on it and full of furniture that had been inexplicably Krazy Glued to the floor. They decided to settle there for the time being. Frederick Fox unloaded the Tupperwares of finger food from the trunk.
“Do you think they bought that it was eggplant paste in the finger sandwiches?” asked Ferdinand. “Are hoomans that stupid? Didn’t they know?”
“Of course they knew,” said the Grand Poobah. He paused a second and smiled. “But … they were hungry.”
* * *
“Oh my goodness, the thought of cake almost made me forget. We have no time for tea! We have no time for cake!” said Mr. Bunny as they made their way toward the Smart car. “We have the graduation ceremony to make!”
“MY GRADUATION!” cried Madeline. “I completely forgot! But can we get there in time?”
“What we?” said Flo. “And why are you asking me? I don’t know what time it starts.”
“I wasn’t, I was talking to the Bunnys,” said Madeline.
“Oh yeah, the bunnies ‘talk,’ ” said Flo, making quote marks with his fingers.
“What, now you don’t believe the Bunnys talk?” said Madeline in dismay. “But just a second ago you were talking about learning Fox.”
“Hey, yeah. But, like, suppose we were drugged by our kidnappers so we just thought they were foxes?”
“How are we going to get to Uncle Runyon’s?” asked Mildred. “Flo, if we’re drugged or dreaming, maybe we can just levitate there.” They closed their eyes and tried it.
“That is completely ridiculous,” said Mr. Bunny.
“I know,” said Madeline, sighing. “But I guess grown-ups can never totally believe in talking animals.”
“Who are you talking to?” asked Mildred.
“Listen,” said Madeline. “I know you think you’re dreaming, but just go with this plan. The Bunnys can drive you. It will be a squish, but the two of you can pile into Mr. Bunny’s Smart car. I’ll ride on the back of Mrs. Treaclebunny’s scooter.”
“Levitating is more eco-friendly, but whatever,” said Flo, shrugging.
“But we’ve got to hurry,” said Madeline. “Mrs. Bunny needs to be in Comox in time for Prince Charles’s parade.”
“Oh man, you’d think that since this is, like, a dream, you’d give that whole prince thing a rest,” said Flo. “Like he’s so special, you gotta go see him even in dreams.”
Mrs. Bunny’s fur ruffled. “He certainly is special! Prince Charles didn’t ask for his job. He was born into it. But still he does it. He spends his whole life going to boring old ceremonies and teas and honorings not because he thinks he’s special but because others have put that value on him and by showing up he makes them feel so. You might think about that,” she added pointedly.
But, of course, Flo and Mildred couldn’t hear her. All they heard were some vaguely rabbity sounds. This frustrated Mrs. Bunny. So she kicked them.
“OW!” said Flo.
“OW!” said Mildred.
“Mrs. Bunny!” said Mr. Bunny in amazement. “I’ve never seen this side of you, but I rather like it.”
“Oh dear,” said Mrs. Bunny, looking alarmed. “You’d better get them away from me. I’ve never done anything like that before and I don’t want to do it again. You drive them to Uncle Runyon’s. I’ll go on the scooter with Madeline and Mrs. Treaclebunny. There’s something I have to get before we go up-island anyway. Meet us at the hutch, Mr. Bunny.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the graduation?” asked Madeline as her father got into the car.
“Not even in my dreams, man,” said Flo.
“Maybe I should tell Flo that if Uncle Runyon is awake, he should let him know that I can understand animal languages,” whispered Madeline to Mr. Bunny. “Uncle Runyon says scientists have been searching for such a person. I could be crucial to his research.”
Mr. Bunny grabbed Madeline roughly by the ankle and dragged her away for a moment.
“Do NOT, for heaven’s sake, tell anyone any such thing!” he whispered fiercely. “Do you know what such scientists will do if they get ahold of you? They’ll keep you in a cage and study you. You’ll be poked and prodded and given injections of who knows what and then tossed on the scrap heap as soon as they’re done with you. I hate to paint such a dreadful picture, but I must impress upon you the need to keep this quiet. I swear to you, Madeline, such things have been done to bunnies.”
Madeline turned pale. Not because she believed that she would be put in a cage, but because she suddenly realized all the dreadful things that had happened to rabbits at the hands of her species. They might put Mr. and Mrs. Bunny in a cage and study them.
“You’re right,” said Madeline to Mr. Bunny. “I won’t tell a soul.”
Then Madeline said goodbye to her parents and she and Mrs. Bunny leapt behind Mrs. Treaclebunny and off they scooted for the hutch. Mr. Bunny put on his disco driving shoes, ignoring Flo’s comments about cool retro footwear, and drove as swiftly as he could to the manor house.
When Flo and Mildred got to Uncle Runyon’s, they found him sitting in the garden. He had just recently come out of his coma. They gave him an abbreviated version of what had happened. Flo kept insisting he was dreaming, and Uncle Runyon said a lot could be blamed on a high fever. Nobody wanted to voice the opinion that it had all been real.
“What was the coma like, man?” asked Flo. “Were there any, oh, say, rabbits in hound costumes?”
“Noooo, can’t say there were. Not that I noticed, anyway,” drawled Uncle Runyon, clearing his throat. “Actually, it was very refreshing. But no time for any more comas. I have quit my job as a decoder. Too dangerous. Gets people kidnapped. Want a more peaceful life. Besides, I have important work to do. I’m going to Africa to study elephant language.”
“Wow,” said Flo. “That’s, like, so synchronistic. I almost learned Fox.”
“You don’t say,” said Uncle Runyon, and rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, and there’s this rabbit that was talking to Madeline.”
Flo looked around for Mr. Bunny to corroborate, but he had already hopped back to his car and was out of sight behind the bushes. “In my drugged dream, of course,” he added hastily.
“Where is Madeline?”
asked Uncle Runyon.
“She went to her graduation,” said Mildred. “It’s as well. Flo and I are still not quite right. We were definitely kidnapped and drugged.”
“Yes, yes, let’s not replay those old tapes,” said Uncle Runyon. “As long as Madeline is fine. That’s the important thing. How it happened will always be a little hazy. I’ll have Jeeves take you to the ferry now. Say goodbye to Madeline for me. I leave tomorrow. Thank goodness Jeeves goes with me. He’s an excellent butler.”
Curses, thought Mr. Bunny, who couldn’t help overhearing this last part. If Mrs. Bunny heard this, she would think she was right about Jeeves. What she didn’t understand was that when good butlers went bad they were the worst. This Jeeves fellow would bear watching.
Then he got into his car and drove like the wind to collect her and Madeline.
Mrs. Bunny and Madeline were in the driveway, talking to Mrs. Treaclebunny.
“You see, Mrs. Bunny,” said Mr. Bunny, after letting Madeline know that her uncle was out of his coma and would be going to Africa soon with Jeeves. “The butler appears innocent, but he was at the center of things with all that burning. Just as I thought.”
“What in the world are you talking about?” asked Mrs. Bunny, who really wished Mr. Bunny would let the butler thing drop once and for all. Especially as it was so apparent he had been wrong from the beginning.
“The burning was a smokescreen! That’s where the term comes from. I knew I would have to explain this to you.” Mr. Bunny was quite pleased with this spontaneous stroke of genius.
“Whatever you say,” said Mrs. Bunny. She was getting very tired of detecting. Perhaps it was time to buy new hats.
Just then there was a great commotion. A cloud of dust came down the road. When it got closer they saw who it was.
“THE MARMOT!” cried Madeline in surprise.
“Oh my, oh my, oh my,” The Marmot said over and over as he ran up to them. “It came to me this morning. In a dream! I remembered the rest of the file card. It was a recipe. Take two pulverized rabbits, stir with a rubber—there’s the word rubber I remembered—spatula into five egg yolks with some grated chocolate. Bake in a three-hundred-fifty-degree oven until done for rabbit soufflé. WELL? Aren’t I a clever marmot? You rabbits think you’re so smart, but, you see, a marmot always saves the day!”
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny—Detectives Extraordinaire! Page 13
