"Jane M. Lindskold - Teapot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lindskold Jane)

could get through it again.
As I contemplated the scene, Elsie, Tillie, and Lacie came out through the door. Each bore a pad of
paper, a metal pencil box, and a fat cushion. They marched across the lawn and set their cushions in a
row between me and the door. When they were seated, they busied themselves opening boxes and
turning pages.
"I hate drawing lessons," Lacie said and pouted, sharpening a pencil.
"We live well, and a lady must learn to draw," Elsie replied sanctimoniously, her pencil already busy.
"But houses?" Lacie retorted. "I'd like to draw something rareтАФa moonrise or a mountain. Maybe
even a monarch."
I started slowly walking across the lawn, heading towards the door. I hoped that the three girls
wouldn't see me, but a shrill scream from Tillie banished that hope.
"The rat! The rat!"
"It can't be a rat," Elsie scolded. "Rats are gray. This creature has brown fur, rather pretty brown fur
at that. It reminds me of the trim on Mama's best gloves."
My heart softened towards her, but I didn't wait around to see if she would pat me. With an almost
athletic leap, I hid in some shrubs, creeping away under their rather thorny protection. But as I crept,
sleep crept up on me. The last thing I heard as I drowsed off was Elsie rattling in her pencil box.
"Would either of you like some treacle? I have a jar here and some bread."
"No, thank you," Tillie answered. "I have some Turkish Delight."
"Treacle?" Lacie said. "WellтАж"
When I awoke, the sun had vanished, leaving the world a dull gray. The grass was damp and the
girls were gone. The door, sadly, was closed. I hurried up to it, but it grew larger as I came closer.
Although a dormouse is a much more statuesque creature than a house mouse, I still could not reach the
latch.
Elsie, Tillie, and Lacie were inside. When I pressed my ear to the door, I could hear them arguing
about someone named Millie. I looked around the dooryard, but no useful mushrooms or cakes
presented themselves. At a loss as to how to get through this door, I decided to make my way around
the house and try to find another entry.
Moonlight and houselight cast disconcerting shadows, distorting the decorative greenery around the
house into dancing monsters. The roses I saw illuminated by the scattered light were neither red nor
white, but unnatural shades such as yellow and pink. The lot were rudely uncommunicative. I tried a
polite "Good afternoon" but not one answered.
An eerie "too-whoo" that made my fur stand on end stopped my attempts at civility. Then a silent
monster with a hooked beak and glowing golden eyes swept down on me. I dove beneath a shrub with a
speed that surprised me, but my troubles were not ended.
A large ginger cat, wicked and unsmiling, sprang from ambush. I hauled my tail from beneath her
paw and rolled out into the open, the cat toying with me before closing for the kill. I jogged across the
weirdly dappled lawn, barely ahead of her, my every breath aching in my sides, my feet protesting such
ungenteel exertion. I was near collapse when the owl glided in for another attack.
I froze in pure terror. The cat could not stop as quickly. Her momentum carried her up and over my
huddled mass. Then a shrill caterwaul rent the darkness as the owl's claws bit into the cat's shoulder. Still
trembling, I hurried back to the shelter of the house, hardly believing my good fortune. A shower of fur
and feathers dusted the dappled greenery in my wake.
I didn't feel more than the least bit sleepy as I continued my search. The house's basement windows
were locked securely, but at last I found a hole gnawed in the wood. It was a bit smaller than I would
have liked, but I gamely poked a paw inside. A sharp snap and a sharper burst of pain at my paw tip
rewarded my effort. Drawing my injured member out, I found a mousetrap securely clamped around two
of my toes. Pressing down on the release with my uninjured paw, I freed myself and hurried onтАФleaving
the trap buried in some loose dirt so that its evil could work no more.
Sucking on my injured digits, I rounded a corner of the house. A large porch decorated with pots of