Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry Read Online Free

She would rather avoid her parents.
    â€œOf course not!” The housekeeper lifted bacon from a frying pan and set it to drain on a paper towel. “You’ve got company in there waiting for you.”
    â€œBut I shouldn’t eat in front of company, should I?”
    â€œMrraow?”
    Something furry brushed past Emmy’s leg, and she looked down to see Muffy batting at the backpack with a paw. Emmy snatched it up.
    â€œJoe is eating already,” said Mrs. Brecksniff, dishing up eggs and bacon. “He’s tucking away a second breakfast just as fast as if he hadn’t already had a first. Now, give me your backpack—your mother won’t want it in the dining room—and go on in and sit down. I’ll bring your plate, and then I’ve got to run upstairs.”
    The housekeeper plucked the backpack from Emmy’s hands and tossed it onto the counter with a thump. A faint squeak came from the interior, immediately silenced.
    â€œGot some squeaky toys in there?” Mrs. Brecksniff picked up Emmy’s plate. “No wonder Muffy seems so interested.”
    Muffy, crouched on the floor, watched the backpack with unblinking yellow eyes. All at once she leaped to the countertop and poked her nose into the half-zippered opening.
    â€œ No! Bad Muffy!” Emmy swept the cat off the counter and shoved the backpack, now squeaking uncontrollably, into a tall cabinet. “I’ll just put it in here, away from the cat, okay?”
    â€œFine,” grunted Mrs. Brecksniff as she bumped open the dining room door with her hip and disappeared.
    Emmy grabbed the cat and put it outside. Then she unzipped the backpack and put her face over the top. “Stop squeaking !” she hissed.
    Sissy was trembling in the bottom of the pack. Raston patted her on the back and glared at Emmy. “We’re going to need extra bacon.”
    â€œYou can have it if you keep quiet!” Emmy reached for the last few slices.
    â€œCrispy, if you don’t mind,” came the Rat’s voice from the cabinet. “Flabby bacon is no good for shock.”
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    In the dining room, Emmy’s father was telling Joe a long story about his boyhood. Emmy knew it was long because she had heard it before.
    â€œYes, every Sunday when I was there I had to ring those bells. That meant I was responsible to get there early, see—”
    Emmy kept her head down, ate her eggs as quickly as she could without shoveling them in, and ignored her father’s emphasis on the word responsible . At least Professor Capybara thought she was responsible. He had asked for her specially, to help him make the Sissy-patches. And Joe could help, too. He knew as much as she did about the rodents of power.
    â€œThen up in the belfry, the bats would fly out, and those bells would ring louder than you can imagine,” Jim Addison’s voice continued.
    â€œThe bell-free?” Joe pronounced the unfamiliar word. “What’s a belfry, Mr. Addison?”
    â€œYou know the pointy part of a church steeple?” Mr. Addison went on. “High on top of the roof? The belfry is the little room underneath it, where the bells are.”
    â€œDoes it have those sort of slatted openings?” Joe asked. “Like a big huge air vent or something?”
    â€œThat’s right. The openings were to let the sound of the bells out so they could be heard from miles away. And then down below, I’d be hanging on to the bell rope for dear life. When it went up, I’d be lifted clear off my feet!”
    Emmy stood up and began to clear the table. Maybe her parents would see that she was trying to help out. She was rewarded by a quick smile from her mother and, feeling better, she bumped through the kitchen door.
    She opened the cabinet door to check on the rodents, but they weren’t in the backpack. They had turned on the interior cabinet light and found the cookbooks that were lined in a row. But