But as Poppy approached the house, she spied a small red flag hanging from one end of the roof. She stopped short. A red flag was her father’s signal that the entire clan needed to gather for an emergency meeting.
Poppy’s first thought was that news of Ragweed’s death had already reached home. Then she realized how unlikely that was. Something else of grave importance must have occurred.
CHAPTER 4
The Emergency Meeting
POPPY RAN ACROSS the lopsided porch and into the parlor. The whole family had indeed gathered. Poppy’s father, thimble on his head, was on his accustomed perch atop an old straw hat, already addressing the crowd. The moment Poppy entered the room, he saw her.
“Ah, Poppy,” he cried, “you’re late, but at least you’re here.”
All the mice—a sea of ears, eyes, pink noses, and whiskers—turned to look at her.
“But where’s Ragweed?” Lungwort demanded. “Wasn’t he with you? Do you think he’ll have the common decency, not to mention courtesy, to consider joining us at this moment of crisis? Or is he beyond all that?”
With so many eyes fixed on her, Poppy could not speak.
“Well, Poppy?” Lungwort asked. “Do you know where your friend is?”
Poppy stammered, “May I tell you after the meeting?”
Lungwort murmured a “Humph,” as well as an “I suppose,” and “Thoughtless children,” concluding with, “Just take your place, please.”
Poppy slipped forward and crouched down next to Basil, her favorite younger cousin.
“Where you guys been?” Basil whispered.
“Out,” Poppy replied weakly.
“You don’t look so good. What happened to your nose?”
“I can’t explain now.”
“And where is Ragweed?”
“Later,” Poppy insisted.
Basil gave his cousin a questioning look but held his tongue.
Lungwort, leaning over the crown of the farmer’s hat, tapped his thimble cap and held up a paw to command silence. “For Poppy’s sake,” he began, “I’ll review what I’ve said already. Our family has grown very large. So large, in fact, that there is not enough food in this neighborhood to feed us all.
“Indeed, our family is still an expanding one.” He nodded to Sweet Cicely, who smiled wanly in dutiful recognition of the remark. “For example,” Lungwort continued, “my wife and I have had seventy-five children, who in turn have given us forty grandchildren, twenty great-grandchildren, and twelve great-great-grandchildren.”
This remark was greeted by the assembled mice with a generous tapping of tails upon the floor.
Lungwort dipped his head in acknowledgment of the tribute. Then he went on. “The truth is, by my calculations, our current rate of population growth—and it’s this I was about to say when Poppy arrived—promises serious food shortages, sickness, and, yes, death, unless we take action within the next few days.”
There was an immediate buzz and squeak among the family. “Good grief!” “How awful!” “What’ll we do now?” “Who would have guessed?”
Lungwort raised his voice over the hubbub. “Living in the open will not do. The dangers of that are obvious. No, we need to establish an extra residence—a home near to abundant food but still close enough to Gray House so that the family, with its present leadership, can be maintained. And of course, the second dwelling must be safe.
“Happily, I have been informed by an old sparrow acquaintance of mine—Mr. Albicollis—that a new home has been built within the territory.”
Again there was chatter. “Where?” “Have you seen it?” “What’s it like?”
“It’s on the northern side of Dimwood Forest. New House, it’s called. A half day’s trek from here.”
“That’s so far!” “Almost another country!” “I’ve never been away from home!” “I bet it’s not so good as this place!”
Lungwort held up a paw. The talk stilled. “This New House is reachable by the Tar Road, across the Bridge, and beyond New Field, which, I’ve been informed, has abundant food.”
“Somebody else can go!” “Wonder what kind of food there is.” “I doubt I’d do well there!”
“Naturally, I will need to investigate New House with care.”
“Would I get a room of my own?” “Can I keep sharing with Tansy?” “They’ll never get me to go.” “I won’t bunk with Husk.”
“Further, there will be much organizing and packing to be done.”
“I hate the thought of packing.” “I have too much to move.” “I just put together a whole new room.”
“Finally,” Lungwort went on, “we will need a delegation to go through the formality of applying to Mr. Ocax for permission to move.”
This time Lungwort’s words brought silence. Every eye looked down or away. Except for Poppy’s. She could only stare at her father in revulsion. How could he even suggest such a thing!
“Now, now,” Lungwort said severely, “Mr. Ocax has always been most accommodating. Need I remind you that he protects us from porcupines. We all know about porcupines, don’t we? We do indeed. Have we seen so much as one porcupine in these parts for years? Not one! Proof enough that Mr. Ocax is holding up his end of the bargain. As long as I’m head of this family, I expect us to do our part. Asking his permission to move is an insignificant sacrifice to make for our well-being.
“All right, then,” Lungwort concluded, looking around. “Any questions?”
Poppy had no idea what Ragweed would have asked, but she knew it would have been something.
“Good,” Lungwort said. “I thank you for your attention. Go about your business. I will keep you informed as always. Poppy, be so good as to remain. I’d like a private word.”
With much excited chatter the mice scurried off until only Poppy, her parents, and Basil remained.
“Now can you tell me what’s going on?” Basil asked. “You’re really looking bad.”
Poppy, trying to find the words to tell her parents about Ragweed, had closed her eyes.
Basil tugged at her. “Poppy, did something happen to Ragweed?”
Poppy gave a quick nod.
“What?”
“Poppy!” her father called from across the parlor. “I’m waiting!”
Poppy opened her eyes and turned to Basil. “Stay close,” she said to him. “I’m going to need you.”
Slowly Poppy crept toward her parents. Basil trailed behind.
As his daughter approached, Lungwort drew himself up
