Hidden Places by Lynn Austin Page A

straw.
    ‘‘You don’t belong up here!’’ I said in an angry whisper. I waved my arms at him. ‘‘Go on, go back downstairs!’’
    I didn’t think that fat old thing could jump, but that’s exactly what he did—jumped right up onto my bed.
    ‘‘No! Bad dog! Get off!’’
    Winky lay down beside me where Sam used to sleep and rested his head on my knee. There was something about the weight of his stubby little body, the warmth of him, that was oddly comforting. I didn’t really want him to go.
    ‘‘All right, then,’’ I said sternly. ‘‘But just for tonight.’’
    He lifted his head to look at me and winked.

CHAPTER THREE
    I woke up the next morning to the aroma of coffee. Sunlight streamed through my bedroom window like it was noon. I leaped out of bed when I realized why—I’d overslept!
    How could I have done such a stupid thing? I got dressed as fast as I could. I had kids to tend to, chores to do. I raced past the other bedrooms and saw that my kids were already up and gone. Who knew what mischief they were into by now?
    I hurried downstairs, then stopped short in the kitchen doorway. Aunt Batty stood at the stove singing ‘‘Amazing Grace’’ and flipping pancakes. She wore a homemade yellow sweater that was nearly as bright as the sunshine outside. All three kids sat at the table wolfing down pancakes smothered in apple butter as fast as she could flip them. Even Becky was eating, her mouth crammed so full that her cheeks puffed out. The milk pails were full of milk, the egg basket was full of eggs, the coal scuttle was full of coal, and both stoves were fired up and heating the house. I ran my hand through my sleep-tousled hair and sank onto a chair, feeling numb.
    ‘‘You should have called me. I didn’t realize it was so late...Imust have forgotten to set my alarm.’’
    Aunt Batty grinned. ‘‘You didn’t forget, Toots. I sneaked in and turned it off. Winky told me you needed your rest.’’
    ‘‘But the chores—’’
    ‘‘All done.’’ Aunt Batty set a plate of pancakes in front of me. ‘‘I’ll get you some coffee to go with those.’’
    ‘‘We all helped with the chores, Mama, so you could sleep,’’ Jimmy said. The kids were real proud of the gift they had given me. I felt dizzy with the surprise of it all.
    ‘‘Thank you. But listen, Aunt Batty, you don’t have to do chores—’’
    ‘‘Nonsense! Of course I do. As I explained to Winky and the girls this morning, it shows very poor manners to accept someone’s hospitality and not do your fair share of the work.’’
    As if to prove Aunt Batty’s words, Queen Esther waddled out of my pantry with a dead mouse dangling from her teeth, its tail trailing across my floor. I’d known for some time that I had a mouse or two living in my pantry, nibbling on anything they pleased, but even though I’d set several traps, I hadn’t caught a single one.
    Esther crossed the kitchen and dropped her prize at my feet, smirking up at me as if to say, ‘‘There. That’s how it’s done.’’ Then she turned her back, tail in the air, and strode into the parlor to take her morning nap on my chair.
    ‘‘Thank you,’’ I mumbled.
    Seated beside me, Becky took one look at the dead mouse and scrambled to stand on her chair, screaming, ‘‘Eeee! A mouse! A mouse!’’ The boys laughed out loud at her—even Luke laughed— as she danced from foot to foot, wringing her hands.
    Aunt Batty scooped up the mouse with a broom and dustpan, shaking her head in dismay. ‘‘That Queen Esther is a good little hunter, but she never cleans up after herself.’’ She carried the dustpan outside and set it on the porch, mouse and all. ‘‘Esther will be looking for that, come dinnertime,’’ she said as she closed the door again.
    ‘‘She eats mice ?’’ Becky asked with a shiver.
    ‘‘Certainly, Toots. All cats do. But Esther eats more than her fair share of them, don’t you think? That’s why she’s so