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

geraniums dominated this side. Nodding a greeting to the flowers, I mounted the stair and found another
door. Alas, this one was on the same titanic scale as the first, and I was near to weeping when I noticed a
smaller door set within the first. The legend above it read "Mail" in curling script. Not seeing one labeled
"Mouse," I supposed that this must do.
Stretching to the tips of my hind paws, I lifted the bronze shutter with my uninjured paw and bent to
squeeze myself through. Nose and front paws fit without much difficulty, but my torso was well rounded
from too much bread and butter or perhaps from taking cream and sugar in my tea.
Undaunted, I kicked and pulled and squirmed, my abused tail reminding me that the cat might come
a-hunt-ing at any moment. Nor was I particularly enchanted by the prospect of Elsie, Tillie, or Lacie
finding me. Thus far, the other side of the mail slot was a dull, dark place. However, I had no desire to be
pitched out into the owl-and-cat-infested wilds by irate young ladies.
With a final heroic kick, I pushed my way through the slot. The shutter snapped shut with a parting
pinch to my tail tip as I was propelled into the darkness. I fell for what seemed like an extraordinary
distance, given that outside I had been able to reach the mail slot merely by stretching.
I landed with a clatter. No one screamed. No one yelled. The only sound, other than my labored
breathing, was a familiar voice humming, "Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! How I wonder what you're at!"
Hardly daring to look, I opened my eyes the smallest bit, than wider.
Just down the table, the Mad Hatter and the March Hare were methodically smearing butter into
the works of the Hatter's watch. The sun beamed beneficently from the west, marking six o'clockтАФtea
timeтАФjust as it should. As the scene fell into further order, I realized that I was upended amid a heap of
disarrayed crockery, my feet over my head, the whole of me leaning up against a very familiar teapot.
I thought about moving, but sleep seemed so much more attractive. As I dozed off, the teapot warm
at my back and my feet shading my face from the sun, I heard the Hatter and the Hare arguing as to
whether a bit of cold tea might rinse the crumbs from the watch-works.
I smiled sleepily, glad to be back home where everything was so very normal.