The Orphan and the Mouse Read Online Free

but gripped it gently and cleaned its wounds with a damp paper towel.
    â€œMrs. George wouldn’t like me nursing you, mousie. She can’t abide mice, and if Matron remembers to tell her, she’ll call the exterminator for sure. But I don’t mind mice. You’re just small creatures trying to get along, same as us kids.”
    As always, it was awkward trying to work with her scarred right hand, but it wasn’t as painful as it used to be. Caro’s handwriting was getting better, too. That was what Miss Ragone said.
    Soon the mouse’s wounds were clean, and Caro took a new paper towel to dry the fur. Then, securing the animal gently in her grip, she held it up and looked into its shiny black eyes. Maybe she was partial, having rescued it, but the mouse did seem to be unusually pretty—nose delicately pointed, whiskers pure white, ears like pink half-moons.
    Caro thought of a book Miss Ragone had read to them. In it, a mouse named Stuart Little was born to a human family, fell in love with a bird, sailed in a mouse-sized boat, and drove an invisible car.
    Stuart could talk and had an extensive wardrobe. He was smart and thoughtful. Of course it was a made-up story,but it stood to reason there was truth in it, too. Animals felt some things—hunger, for sure, and fear. Happiness? Maybe that, too.
    â€œHow is it being a mouse?” Caro asked.
    The mouse tilted its head as if considering the question, then squeaked, making Caro laugh.
    â€œAre you wondering what it’s like to be a human? It’s okay, I guess, for us kids that live here, at least. We’ve got enough to eat and clean clothes, but there was a war not very long ago, and people died, and over there in Europe and the Far East now there’re those that don’t have anything. Anyway, we don’t have to worry about getting stomped or eaten the way you do—so that’s something.”
    The mouse shifted in Caro’s hand, then flicked its tail against her fingers. Caro understood at once, or thought she did. “You have to get home, don’t you? Maybe you’ve got children waiting. Be good to them if you do. I’m an orphan, mousie. Do you know what that is? A kid who doesn’t have a mother or a father. This place is a home for orphans.”
    Caro bumped the washroom door open with her hip and stood in the corridor. She had thought she would set the mouse free outdoors, but now she realized she’d wake someone if she tried that. So she knelt, opened her hand, and tipped the mouse out.
    â€œAll right, then,” she said. “Get going back home now. I’ll watch for that old cat and keep it away if I have to.”
    On the floor, the mouse looked around to orient itself, then, to Caro’s surprise,turned back to face her, lifted its snout, and squeaked.
    â€œYou’re welcome,” Caro said. “Nice to have met you, too.” Then, because it seemed right, she raised her left pinkie finger and waved good-bye.
    For its part, the mouse turned, flipped its tail, and scurried off.
    With the cat nowhere to be seen, Caro went back to the washroom to wash her hands, glancing in the mirror as she did so.
    Even apart from the scars, Caro knew she wasn’t pretty. Her face was too square, nose too long, pale-brown hair too thick and wavy.
    But, darn it, she was good. Too good, the other intermediates claimed—too studious, too obedient, too nice, even; entirely lacking in spunk.
    Caro turned off the water, pulled down a paper towel, and dried her hands.
    Well, wouldn’t they all be surprised
, she thought,
if they knew I got up in the middle of the night and talked to mice?

Chapter Eight

    Mary reentered mouse territory through the portal in the foyer, a chipped piece of marble behind a potted palm. She had no time to think about her “conversation” with the human pup or its odd behavior. She had more pressing concerns. By this time, she would have been