Puppy Pie Read Online Free

and all of the descendants of Frederick Hepplewhite. No bigger than a comma, Ma rules her brood with an iron mind, mentally slapping and hounding wayward mites. If she were seen, Ma would appear as a mere speck in the life of the farm but she is the most important speck any farm could hope to have.
    Around her, crowd dozens of microscopic mites invisible to the human eye. Ma, grandmother multiplied by thousands of generations, is the ancient custodian of the farm. Instinctively, she knows when something is not right.
    â€˜Not right,’ she mumbles to herself.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ Max asks, a muscular, miniscule speck crouching beside Ma.
    â€˜Something,’ she says irritably as she moves closer to the window and senses a beige car driving away from the farm.
    â€˜What is it, Ma?’ Dizzy asks, one of the latest generations.
    â€˜A bland bombshell.’
    Dizzy rolls her eyes: she’s used to Ma talking in riddles.
    The mites standing nearest her – Cha-Cha, Terra and Tiny – shrug knowing better than to ask for an explanation. Ma is infamous for two things: her prophecies and her quick, bad temper.
    â€˜Not happy,’ she frowns. She imagines her latest brood near by. ‘Bad time for bad tidings,’ she mumbles to herself. Mentally, she shakes her head, imagining those around her. This new generation -xyz- are all wrapped up in themselves , she thinks. They want everything “now”. Just when the Folly needs fighters, what do I get? A generation of dizzy singers and dancers ! Oh well , she mentally shrugs, I suppose I’m surrounded by the best of a bad lot . She senses each in turn: Max, all brawn but very little brain; Dizzy, forever going around in circles, and Terra, her most grounded mite. Which isn’t saying much, Ma sighs. Then there’s Cha-Cha, infected with dance fever from watching too many dancing competitions on TV; and Tiny, the smallest of the family, too young to be useful.
    Well , she thinks despondently, let’s hope I don’t have to call on the rest . O Solo Mio, for instance, always wanting to be left alone. Or Flighty who is just that: flighty. If only Dolo and Dyna, the most capable of all my mites, had stayed on the farm. But what do they do when my back is turned? Catch a French Poodle to Paris !
    She slaps herself hard: concentrate, Ma. There’s the future in front of us, a fine green crop waiting to be harvested .
    A slight breeze ruffles the rich green leaves, and the crop sways gently. In the distance, two giant fire engine red Harvesters crawl through the open gates. Getting ready for tomorrow, Ma thinks. And tomorrow, with Harry’s Harvester, that will make three . A ripple of fear runs through her as she mentally pictures the new crop, the first of its kind in the area. Why am I afraid all of a sudden? Everything seems so normal. No, something is wrong: I know that ancient feeling .
    â€˜Tell us a story, Ma,’ Tiny asks plaintively, breaking across Ma’s thoughts.
    â€˜Yes,’ Cha-Cha says wiggling. ‘I’m bored. There’s no music up here for dancing to.’
    Acting automatically while her senses reach into the heart of the Folly searching for the threat, Ma begins her recitation. ‘A century and a half ago, Frederick Hepplewhite was alive and well. He was a clever, cantankerous, hardworking man. One evening, robbers stormed into the farmhouse where the family was having dinner.’
    â€˜Oooh!’ Tiny whispers. ‘Was it a dark and stormy night?’
    Absentmindedly, as she continues searching for the threat, Ma says, ‘Yes, if you like, it was a dark and stormy night. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, the first thing the robbers did was tie up the family and polish off the dinner. Next, they threatened to burn down the farmhouse if Fred didn’t give them all his money.’
    â€˜Oooh!’ the mites say in unison.
    â€˜Now, Fred had worked very hard and didn’t