chicken.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” said Bardo. “But you don’t want to get between a chicken and its food. A good strike with one of those beaks and a chicken will cripple you, and chances are you’ll be dinner for the snake before you know it.”
Fredle didn’t respond. He finished his strip of apple peel and set off. As he came up to the garden gate post he saw the large figure of Missus, approaching. Fredle froze.
Missus carried a basket in one hand and the bucket in the other. Sadie bounded along beside her. “We’re working! Weeding the garden! Feeding the chickens! Taking care of the baby! It’s warm and sun—” Sadie fell silent, sniffing the air, and then she said quietly, “Hello, Fredle. My job is to watch the baby.” She went to the basket Missus had set down just inside the garden fence and sat in the dirt beside it. “Do you want to see our baby? I could lift you in my mouth but you have to be quiet.”
However, Missus leaned down to stretch a thin cloth over the top of the basket before she went off into the garden, so Fredle couldn’t have seen the baby even if he had trusted Sadie to put him up in her mouth and not eat him. He tried to explain it to her. “It’s not safe for a mouse to be near humans.” Or
dogs
, he didn’t add.
“The baby can’t hurt you. Not yet, anyway, because babies can’t do anything, not even pull my ears. That’s why I have to be her nanny.”
Fredle stayed crouched behind his post. “Where’s Angus?”
“When Mister checks the sheep in their pasture, Angus helps him. Sometimes I help, too, but not today.” Sadie lay down beside the baby’s basket, which wasn’t really a basket at all but more like a box with a handle, and pointed her nose at the post behind which Fredle hid. “What are you doing here?”
“I was foraging in the compost.”
“You don’t eat compost, do you? Ick-ko.”
“It’s better than your kibbles.”
“You eat my kibbles?”
“Not when they’re in the bowl,” Fredle assured her quickly, in case—like Patches—the dogs resented it if a mouse took the food from their bowls. “But sometimes you spill them.”
“I’m thirsty,” Sadie said, a little sadly. “I want a drink of water. I want to go get a drink from the stream and chase a frog. Have you ever smelled a frog? The stream isn’t far, just across the field, and I can run fast. I can run very fast,” she told Fredle, and sighed. “But I have a job.” Then, “I have a job!” she told Fredle, proudly.
Fredle was feeling a little thirsty, too, now that the subject had come up, and he thought that a juicy apple peel would refresh him.
“Are you going? Will you come back?”
“If I can,” Fredle said.
Bardo and Neldo were no longer at the compost, and he went quickly to the part of the pile where he’d noticed more apple peels—which he hadn’t mentioned to his two companions, although neither had he tried to hide it from them. On his way back to the lattice he stopped to talk with Sadie, but she had fallen asleep and was snoring gently. He was about to move on when Missus approached and Sadie leapt up with a short, happy bark.
“Sadie? Sit,” Missus said, in a stern voice. “I’m going to feed the chickens. You stay with the baby.”
Sadie lay down again beside the basket. Fredle had never eaten corn, so he started to follow Missus toward the chicken pen, coming cautiously out from behind the shelter of his fence post. Luckily for him, he hadn’t taken many steps before he looked up and sighted two cats ahead. He froze.
One of the cats was large and all white. The other was large, too, but black-and-white.
The barn cats
, he thought. They stalked through the sunlight in front of the open barn door. They were coming toward the garden.
The cats hadn’t seen him. Slowly, watching the cats, he backed up the short distance to the safety of the fence post near which Sadie slept beside the baby in its basket.
The cats stretched lazily in the
“Ha-ha, very funny,” said Bardo. “But you don’t want to get between a chicken and its food. A good strike with one of those beaks and a chicken will cripple you, and chances are you’ll be dinner for the snake before you know it.”
Fredle didn’t respond. He finished his strip of apple peel and set off. As he came up to the garden gate post he saw the large figure of Missus, approaching. Fredle froze.
Missus carried a basket in one hand and the bucket in the other. Sadie bounded along beside her. “We’re working! Weeding the garden! Feeding the chickens! Taking care of the baby! It’s warm and sun—” Sadie fell silent, sniffing the air, and then she said quietly, “Hello, Fredle. My job is to watch the baby.” She went to the basket Missus had set down just inside the garden fence and sat in the dirt beside it. “Do you want to see our baby? I could lift you in my mouth but you have to be quiet.”
However, Missus leaned down to stretch a thin cloth over the top of the basket before she went off into the garden, so Fredle couldn’t have seen the baby even if he had trusted Sadie to put him up in her mouth and not eat him. He tried to explain it to her. “It’s not safe for a mouse to be near humans.” Or
dogs
, he didn’t add.
“The baby can’t hurt you. Not yet, anyway, because babies can’t do anything, not even pull my ears. That’s why I have to be her nanny.”
Fredle stayed crouched behind his post. “Where’s Angus?”
“When Mister checks the sheep in their pasture, Angus helps him. Sometimes I help, too, but not today.” Sadie lay down beside the baby’s basket, which wasn’t really a basket at all but more like a box with a handle, and pointed her nose at the post behind which Fredle hid. “What are you doing here?”
“I was foraging in the compost.”
“You don’t eat compost, do you? Ick-ko.”
“It’s better than your kibbles.”
“You eat my kibbles?”
“Not when they’re in the bowl,” Fredle assured her quickly, in case—like Patches—the dogs resented it if a mouse took the food from their bowls. “But sometimes you spill them.”
“I’m thirsty,” Sadie said, a little sadly. “I want a drink of water. I want to go get a drink from the stream and chase a frog. Have you ever smelled a frog? The stream isn’t far, just across the field, and I can run fast. I can run very fast,” she told Fredle, and sighed. “But I have a job.” Then, “I have a job!” she told Fredle, proudly.
Fredle was feeling a little thirsty, too, now that the subject had come up, and he thought that a juicy apple peel would refresh him.
“Are you going? Will you come back?”
“If I can,” Fredle said.
Bardo and Neldo were no longer at the compost, and he went quickly to the part of the pile where he’d noticed more apple peels—which he hadn’t mentioned to his two companions, although neither had he tried to hide it from them. On his way back to the lattice he stopped to talk with Sadie, but she had fallen asleep and was snoring gently. He was about to move on when Missus approached and Sadie leapt up with a short, happy bark.
“Sadie? Sit,” Missus said, in a stern voice. “I’m going to feed the chickens. You stay with the baby.”
Sadie lay down again beside the basket. Fredle had never eaten corn, so he started to follow Missus toward the chicken pen, coming cautiously out from behind the shelter of his fence post. Luckily for him, he hadn’t taken many steps before he looked up and sighted two cats ahead. He froze.
One of the cats was large and all white. The other was large, too, but black-and-white.
The barn cats
, he thought. They stalked through the sunlight in front of the open barn door. They were coming toward the garden.
The cats hadn’t seen him. Slowly, watching the cats, he backed up the short distance to the safety of the fence post near which Sadie slept beside the baby in its basket.
The cats stretched lazily in the
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