The Lost Library by Rebecca Stead EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Rebecca Stead
- Language: English
- Genre: Coming of Age Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
MORTIMER
Mortimer waited on the cool stone basement floor in front of mouse door
number four, his fluffy orange body covering as much territory as it could.
His paws were spread in front of him, as if he were about to catch a
watermelon.
Books, in Mortimer’s opinion, got it wrong about cats. In books, cats
were usually stuck-up, sometimes even uncaring. As if cats had no feelings
at all.
Cats had hearts, too.
Feelings, his heart said.
Mortimer had a lot of feelings. What he didn’t have were a lot of
words.
Mice were better with words than he was. Mice talked a lot.
The bell on top of Martinville Town Hall began to ring, as it did at 6:00 P.M.
every day. The scratching behind the door was getting louder. A mouse
would be coming through any second now.
“Apples!” he heard a small voice say. “I smell apples!” And behind the
voice there were murmurs of excitement.
Here they come, Mortimer thought. He put on what he hoped was a
gentle smile just as the first of the mice emerged, shaking off little bits of
dirt and sawdust and, as usual, talking.
“Is that a … cat?”
A second mouse appeared. “What sort of terrible place is this, with a
heartless cat standing by the door? This must be a bad dream!”
A third mouse popped through the hole. Mice, Mortimer knew, rarely
traveled alone.
“Welcome!” Mortimer said. He glanced nervously at the potato bin.
Last week, a mouse had managed to jump into it. Mortimer had had to wait
for him, remaining perfectly still under the stairs, for almost three hours.
“Please follow me, mice.” Mortimer tried to sound cheerful. “This way
to outside!”
“But we just got inside!” one of them whined.
Using his outstretched arms like windshield wipers, Mortimer herded
them to a small mouse hole in another corner of the basement (also known
as mouse door number three). Mice, he’d learned, never liked to go out the
same way they had come in.
“That horrible cat has six-toed feet! How terrifying!”
“Wait a minute. Could this cat be the Six-Toed Grouch?”
The exit, which was not far from the old library book cart, led
outdoors, away from Ms. Scoggin, the apples, and Mr. Brock’s cheese. And
the potato bin.
“And now I suppose we are expected to go straight out into the cold
again?”
In fact, seeing Mortimer and his sizable paws, the three of them were
already crowding around the mouse hole, trying to leave.
“Not cold,” Mortimer said. “It’s summertime. Be careful, though—
there’s a road on the other side of this door. Cars. But everything is fine!”
“Oh, great,” one of them said. “Thanks for nothing, Six-Toed Grouch.”
And he disappeared through the hole.
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