“My fellow mice, as I strive to maintain our superior style of life, while resisting change, you know I always have your best interests at heart. Alas, we Gray House mice are now facing a grave crisis, indicated by the presence of yonder yellow machine of mass destruction. We are all in imminent danger.
“Having, however, considered all aspects of the problem, I have decided to let my daughter Poppy solve the problem. You are aware, I’m sure, of Poppy’s many talents and achievements. In this she is certainly my daughter. Still, I can assure you I will not—of course—entirely withdraw into retirement, but shall provide Poppy with excellent advice and suggestions, etcetera, etcetera, based upon my many years of experience, so she will be enabled to do the hard job.”
There were cheers from the mice as well as cries of “Thank goodness!” “It’s about time!” “Change is what we need!” “Hurrah for Poppy!”
Lungwort held up a paw to still the crowd. “Now,” he resumed after a bit of wheeze, “once Poppy has accomplished this immediate task, making our happy family home safe again, I will take the opportunity to retire into my boot’s toe and let Poppy assume the thimble of family leadership, which I have worn with such humble dignity.”
As a murmur of approval went through the crowd, Lungwort held up a paw. “No, no,” the old mouse went on, “a little change is inevitable. But only a little. Now then, in days to come Poppy may well call upon you for assistance. I hereby request that you not stint in your support of her. Very well, I shall now ask Poppy to say a few words.”
Poppy, blushing, stepped forward.
“Hurrah for Poppy!” someone cried out. That was followed by lots of others shouting much the same thing.
Poppy felt like an imposter. She did not plan to become head of the family And she truly didn’t know what to do about the bulldozer. While she was happy, despite the current confusion, that she had come to visit, she certainly had no intention of staying. And right now she needed to get to Junior.
Even so, she took another moment to look out at the upturned faces, the pink noses, bright eyes, delicate whiskers, and large ears of her family. Gradually she noticed that one of the mice standing before her had bright red fur. Never before having seen such an oddly colored mouse, she stared. Perhaps the poor creature had a disease. Then she gasped: it was Junior! He was grinning. Then the thought came: he’s going to belch!
“Hooray for Poppy,” a small voice called, jarring Poppy back to her senses. She was just standing there, and all the mice still waited for her to say something.
“Thank you all,” she began. “It’s very nice to come for a visit. I’m afraid my father exaggerated when he listed all those things he wished me to do. But while I’m here, though my visit will be brief, I’ll certainly try to be helpful.
“For the moment I just want to say hello to you all. That’s my child over there,” she said, pointing at Junior. “The . . . ah . . . red one. He’s happy to be here, too.”
All eyes turned to Junior. Not knowing where to turn, he did a half shrug, while offering up a shy smile.
“We both thank you,” Poppy concluded.
There was a round of applause as Poppy came down off the steps. Ignoring her father’s cries of “Poppy, we must confer right now!” she made her way through the crowd toward Junior.
As she passed among the mice, she was patted again and again, while a variety of mice called, “Thanks for coming, Poppy.” “Sure great to have you back, Poppy.” “We need you, Poppy.” “You’ll solve everything, Poppy.”
Poppy, hearing the remarks, wondered if they would have so much confidence in her if they knew she couldn’t keep track of the whereabouts—or the color—of her own son.
CHAPTER 23
Poppy and Junior
YO, MAMA,” SAID JUNIOR, grinning as Poppy approached. He was gazing at her intently, trying to see in her the things he had been told she had done.
“Where did you two go?” said Poppy, not knowing whether she felt anger or relief. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming here? I was really worried.”
“Sorry.”
“And why are you all red?”
“Wanted to be.”
Poppy looked around. “Where’s Mephitis?”
“Waiting for me in the orchard.”
As Poppy reminded herself that they were surrounded by mice, all of whom were looking and listening to their discussion, Junior grinned at her. “Hey, Mama,” he said, “they really like you here. I heard some wild stories. Like about that owl, Mr. Ocax. Is that true?”
“I don’t know what you’ve heard.”
“How come you never told me about it?”
“I’ve been too busy, but—” She felt a tap from behind. She turned. It was Lilly.
“Papa says he really must talk to you,” she said.
“I’ll be right there,” said Poppy. “Junior, come with me.”
“But Mephitis—”
“He can wait. Now come!”
“Oh, all right.”
Lilly led the way through the crowd with Poppy and Junior close behind. “No, really,” Junior whispered, “is any of that stuff true?”
“This isn’t the time to talk about it,” said Poppy.
“This the house you used to live in?”
“Yes.”
“It’s stupid.”
They climbed the porch steps and went into the house. Junior looked around. “Whoa, this place is so crowded,” he whispered. “Everyone heaped together. Is it just huge rooms like this one?”
“There are six of them.”
“Dumb,” said Junior. “No place to be yourself.”
“It wasn’t so bad in the old days,” said Poppy. She saw Sweet Cicely and moved toward her.
“Mama,” said Poppy. “This is my son Ragweed Junior. Junior, this is my mother. Your grandmother.”
To Poppy’s surprise, Junior grinned, “’Lo, Mama’s mama.”
Sweet Cicely stared at the young mouse and then flicked her ears once, then twice. “Ragweed?” she said to Poppy. “Is that truly his name?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Oh dear. How . . . regrettable. And why . . . is he red? Is his father a red . . . mouse?”
Poppy turned
