Junior sped down the tree trunk.
“Did you see him?” said Pine.
“Follow me!” cried Junior as he raced away. Every now and then he paused to call, “Hey, Mephitis! Wait up!”
The other mice stayed close.
At last Junior received a returning “Yo!” to his call. Plunging forward, he burst upon his friend. To his surprise, Ereth was at Mephitis’s side.
“Hey,” said Junior, “I thought you were going to wait for me over there.”
“Got tired of waiting,” said Mephitis.
“Oh.” Junior looked at Ereth. “What are you doing here?”
“I go where I want, slush socks. But the last time I saw you, you were black. You’ve turned red.”
“Changed my mind.”
The other mice arrived.
“Who are these two?” asked Mephitis.
“Some new friends,” said Junior, grinning. “Pine, Laurel, this is my best friend, Mephitis. This is my Uncle Ereth.”
The two mice gazed up at Ereth with wide eyes. “Is he a . . . porcupine?”
“Yeah.”
“Then how come he’s your uncle?”
“Come on,” said Junior. “Anyone can be an uncle.”
“Why are these two mice red?” demanded Ereth.
“They want to look like me,” explained Junior, with a glance at Mephitis. The skunk grinned.
“Is that true?” snapped Ereth.
“Yes, sir,” said Laurel.
“Galloping galingales!” cried Ereth. “Why?”
“It’s doing the stinky red, sir,” said Pine.
“We want to be just like Junior,” added Laurel.
“Brainless butter buckets,” muttered Ereth with a shake of his head. “The whole world has turned stupid. Where’s your triangulated toothbrush of a mother?” he asked Junior. “Is she all right?”
“Sure,” said Junior. “Except, listen to this.” He told Ereth and Mephitis about the bulldozer as well as the man who had come from the deconstruction company.
“Messing around with people is tricky,” said Ereth. “I better look at this bulldozer. Show me where it is,” he demanded.
“Oh, yes, sir,” said Pine. “Be happy to. It’s just over this way.”
As Ereth, Pine, and Laurel went ahead, Junior turned to Mephitis. “Hey, how come the porcupine showed up?” he whispered.
Mephitis shrugged. “He’s worried about your mother.”
“He’s always worried. Was he screaming at you?”
“Naw. We’ve been talking. Actually, he’s pretty cool.”
“He is?” said Junior.
“And he swears,” said Mephitis, “a whole lot better than we do.”
Up ahead, Pine said to Ereth, “You really don’t have to worry about the bulldozer, sir. Miss Poppy will take care of everything.”
“Maybe,” muttered Ereth.
“And after she does, she’s going to stay at Gray House and be the next leader of the whole family.”
Ereth stopped short. “Frozen eyeball fungus,” he cried. “She’s not doing anything of the kind!”
“Oh, but she is, sir,” said Laurel, shrinking back before the force of Ereth’s anger.
“Who told you that?” cried Ereth.
“Her father, sir. Lungwort.”
“Who the crispy toad gas does he think he is, telling Poppy what she can or can’t do? He’ll have to deal with me first. She is not going to stay here. Not if I have to knock down Gray House myself!”
CHAPTER 29
Poppy Tries to Plan
POPPY PLODDED SLOWLY BACK to Gray House. The bulldozer was a monster. A gigantic monster. And it would be driven by unapproachable humans. It was simply unstoppable.
It didn’t lift Poppy’s spirits that as she walked among the mice, more than one called, “Hey, Poppy, have you figured out what we’re going to do yet?” Or, “Just tell us what to do, Poppy. We’ll do it!” Or, “Come up with something quick, Poppy! That thing is coming soon!”
When she climbed the steps into Gray House, Sweet Cicely was waiting. “Oh, Poppy, you’ve made your father so happy.”
Poppy blinked. “Have I?”
“Naming your son ‘Lungwort.’ It made Papa feel so good. You were just teasing me about having named him Ragweed, weren’t you?”
“Well, Mama, actually—”
“I am so gullible, I know,” said Sweet Cicely with a giggle. “But if I can make you all laugh, particularly in times like these, I suppose it’s perfectly fine.” She brushed her ears nervously.
“Mama, I don’t think—”
“Poppy!”
Poppy stopped mid-sentence and turned. Lilly was vigorously shaking her head.
“I think it was nice of you to name your youngster after Papa, too,” said Lilly, gazing sternly at her sister. She drew Poppy away from Sweet Cicely.
“But Lilly,” Poppy protested, “you know—”
“Never mind,” said Lilly. “Papa wants to speak to you.”
“Lilly,” Poppy insisted as they went toward the old boot, “Junior’s name is Ragweed.”
“I don’t know who told Papa his name was Lungwort, but it was a clever thing to do.”
“Junior told him,” said Poppy.
“Then he’s a lot smarter than I thought.”
Poppy stopped walking.
“Poppy, Papa is waiting for you.”
“He can wait a moment longer.”
“You sound just like Junior.”
“Lilly, I have no idea what to do about the bulldozer.”
“You really don’t?”
Poppy shook her head. “Instead of worrying about me, what you should be doing is putting your mind to it,” she said as she stepped behind the plaid curtain into the boot.
“Is that you, Poppy?” called Lungwort as she hurried down to the dim toe.
“Yes, Papa.”
“Did you bring young Lungwort?”
“No, Papa.”
“That’s a fine young mouse you have there. Very fine. As for his painting himself red—and that smell—that’s only youthful foolishness. My advice is to pay it no mind. The truth is, he reminds me of some of the things I did when I was his age.”
“So he said. Things I never heard about.”
Lungwort coughed. “It’s grandparents, not parents, who are allowed to tell the truth. But never mind all that. Have you worked out a plan about the bulldozer?”
“No, Papa.”
The old mouse leaned toward his daughter and lowered his voice. “Poppy, you don’t seem to understand: it’s urgent.”
“Papa, I can’t think of anything.”
“But that’s why I sent for you!”
“Then I suggest you make a plan for when they do knock the house down. Move to New House. At least everyone would be safe.”
“Never. I won’t accept such an outcome,” cried Lungwort. “Since Gray House
