“Ereth,” cried Poppy. “Those are awful things to say about anyone, but Junior is our child. We can’t do that to him. I . . . don’t even want to. We love him.”
“Love,” sneered Ereth. “Love is ‘evil’ spelled backward— with an i instead of an o.”
“But he needs us,” said Rye.
“The only one who needs you right now,” muttered Ereth to Poppy, “is your sister.”
“My sister?” exclaimed Poppy. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“The one who calls herself Little Bit and talks like she ate a book of manners. She’s right outside. Waiting for you.”
“She is?”
“Oh, peppered peacock pasta! Didn’t I just say that?”
“Ereth,” cried Poppy into his face, “sometimes you are impossible!” With that, she scampered around Ereth and out of the log, with Rye close at her heels.
“Mice,” muttered Ereth to himself as he returned to his salt. “It would be more fun listening to glowworms grow!”
The moment Poppy emerged from the log, she saw her sister. “Lilly!” she cried, and threw her paws around her, covering Lilly’s face with squeaky nuzzles. “But what are you doing here? How is everybody? When did you arrive? You look wonderful. What made you come? Oh, Lilly, this is my husband, Rye. Rye, this is Lilly. The oldest of my thirty-two little sisters.” And she gave her sister a new round of hugs and nuzzles.
“Pleasure to meet you,” said Rye, grinning shyly and extending a paw to his sister-in-law.
“Very much obliged,” said Lilly, offering a limp paw in return.
“You must meet our children,” Poppy went on. “Or have you met them already? Some of them are right over there. There are eleven. All wonderful. You’ll love them. They’ll love you. Just come along. I am so glad to see you. How’s Mama? How’s Papa?”
“Poppy,” said Lilly, “I’m afraid you’re not giving me any time to reply.”
“I’m sorry,” said a laughing Poppy. “I’m so excited to see you.”
“Poppy,” said Lilly with great gravity, “it was Papa who dispatched me here.”
The smile left Poppy’s face. “Lilly, is something wrong?”
“Things are not good at home. Mama would like to see you, of course. But it’s Papa: he’s not well. He ordered me to bring you back as soon as possible. You see, there’s a gigantic bulldozer parked right near Gray House. It appears as if humans plan to knock our house down. So, as far as the family is concerned, things could not be worse.”
CHAPTER 4
A Decision
POPPY GATHERED TEN of the children and stood them before the entryway to the snag. At the same time Rye went down among the roots and insisted that Junior come out, too. When all had been assembled, Poppy introduced them to her sister. “Children, this is your Aunt Lilly. Aunt Lilly, this is Mariposa, Columbine, Verbena, Scrub Oak, Pipsissewa, Crabgrass, Locust, Sassafras, Walnut, Snowberry, and Ragweed Junior.”
The young mice stared at the newcomer with intense curiosity.
“What do you say, children?”
“Pleased to meet you, Aunt Lilly,” they chorused, except for Junior, who chose to stare glumly at the ground.
“And while we’re very happy that Lilly came to visit,” Poppy continued, “I’m afraid she’s brought us sad news.”
Poppy’s tone made Junior look up. “It’s about my father,” she said. “Your grandfather, whom you’ve never met. Of course, I’ve talked about him. Remember? His name is Lungwort. Lilly has come to tell us he’s not very well.”
Lilly spoke up. “Your mother’s papa—Lungwort—who is my father, too—asked me to come here. He very much needs your mother to visit.”
“Can we come?” piped up Pipsissewa immediately.
Poppy and Rye exchanged looks. “That’s something we haven’t decided,” said Rye.
“But we will soon,” said Poppy. “Because if I go, I’ll need to leave quickly. Now why don’t you show your aunt about while your father and I talk things over.”
The young mice—all but Junior—gathered around Lilly and led her into the snag.
“Junior,” said Rye, “aren’t you going along with the others?”
“I’m going over to Mephitis’s place.”
Poppy tried not to show her disappointment. “Are his parents there?”
“Quit checking up on me all the time,” said Junior. “I’m almost three months old. Not exactly a baby. I can take care of myself.”
“Junior,” said Rye, “it’s the responsibility of parents to know where their children are at all times.”
“Hey, Pops, aren’t you forgetting?” said Junior. “When your brother Ragweed was four months old, he took off from home. Right? Right. Permanently. And what did you tell me Ragweed was always saying? ‘A mouse has to do what a mouse has to do.’ Did I get that right? So I figure I can pretty well take care of myself, too. That okay with you?” He started off.
“When will you be back?” Poppy called after him.
“Later,” said Junior as he disappeared from view.
“Not very sympathetic, is he?” said Rye as he looked after his departing son.
“Rye,” said Poppy, “Junior doesn’t like us anymore.”
“Hopefully it’s just his age,” said Rye. “And he’ll get over it.”
“But what if he doesn’t?” said Poppy. “Oh my, it’s hard when your own child turns against you.”
“Let’s talk about that later,” said Rye, giving Poppy a nuzzle. “You need to decide what you’re going to do.”
“I don’t think I have much choice,” said Poppy. “They seem to need me to make a visit back there. Rye, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen them. It will seem very strange. Why, none of them has ever met you, or the children.”
“You never wanted us to.”
“It was all so complicated.”
“Do you think we should go?” said Rye.
“I’d love it if everyone could meet my family,” said Poppy. “But it’s a long trip. And you know the forest can be dangerous. It has many creatures—not all pleasant. No, there’s no telling who’s out there. And with so many straggling children in tow . . .”
“Then it’s best we don’t go,” said Rye. “You’ll travel faster that way. Both ways. But I will need to stay home,” he pointed out. “Don’t take offense, but the thought of you traveling alone . . .” He gave
