Emmy and the Incredible Shrinking Rat (19 page)

Miss Barmy lay perfectly still. Her eyes glittered.

“Is that true, Miss Barmy?” Emmy stood over her. “Is
that
when Raston bit you? Were you
helping
Cheswick steal the rats?”

“O wahih eye wah!” said Miss Barmy.

Emmy loosened the gag.

“So what if I was?” repeated Miss Barmy belligerently. “I was only trying to get what was due to me. I only wanted what should have been mine!”

“What was that?” asked the Rat, curiously.

“This house! The Addison fortune!” She glared at Emmy. “Old William may have been your great-great-uncle, but he was
my
first cousin twice removed. My
mother
was an Addison … she was old William's
housekeeper
—”

“I never heard that,” the Rat said.

“I grew up in this house, but unlike William's daughter, I had to work. For years I had to be a nanny to other rich little girls. I
hate
rich little girls!” she cried, her face growing purple with fury. “But I never forgot I was an Addison. I never forgot that this should have been
my
house,
my
money …”

Jane Barmy tossed back the hair that hung wild about her face. “I came back after Cheswick told me about the rats. When old William's daughter drowned, I took care of him …”

Emmy shuddered.

Miss Barmy continued, a mad light in her eyes. “I tried Essence of Hamster and Lemming Drops and Prairie Dog Pus on him. I thought I had done enough, but then he left everything to your parents! To
you
!”

Emmy felt sick. Her eyes fell on Miss Barmy's cane, which had clattered to the floor when she shrank. The carved faces looked more pleading than usual, and Emmy swallowed, avoiding their gaze. Was one of them old William? There was a blank spot that had been meant for Emmy's face someday, she knew ….

A sleepy Endear Mouse poked its head out of the dollhouse attic at a sudden noise of chattering from
the windowsill, followed by several thumps and the sound of scurrying feet. Chippy, Buck, Mrs. Bunjee, Sissy, and Joe skidded into the playroom—and stopped dead at the sight of a tiny Miss Barmy, tied up with a shoelace.

“Well, well,” said Joe. “
This
is an interesting development.”

“S
O YOU'RE STILL IN DANGER,
then, Emmy,” Buck said soberly.

Emmy nodded, looking around the circle at the serious faces of her friends. “My parents are going to sign papers with the lawyer this afternoon, and then they're leaving town. So even if Miss Barmy's not around—”

“Emmy could be locked up by suppertime,” said the Rat grimly.

“Not if she stays little,” said Chippy.

No one said anything for a moment. Emmy soothed the Endear Mouse, who had run to her.

“She could live with us in Rodent City,” said Buck. “Couldn't she, Mother?”

Mrs. Bunjee shook her head. “A visit is one thing, but she can't stay little forever, and neither can Joe. His parents must be sick with worry,” she added severely, looking at him over her whiskers. “Pawball is all well and good, but it shouldn't come between children and their parents.”

Joe looked abashed.

“There's one more thing,” said Emmy, feeling her stomach tighten as she looked at Miss Barmy. “Where is the Extract of Gerbil?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Miss Barmy's face was lumpy with spite. “It might be hidden away where you'll never find it. Or it might already be in the food your parents are going to eat tonight … or their toothpaste, or their water glass, or their breath mints.”

Rage and fear surged in Emmy like a river rising. As she struggled for control, she knew exactly what her blood would look like under the charascope now.

Mrs. Bunjee, her whiskers bristling, put her paws on her hips. “That's about enough out of
you
, Miss Bummy, or whatever your name is. Our Professor Capybara will get a proper answer from you, or I'm very much mistaken. Buck, you're the biggest—you carry her.”

Buck nodded, adjusting the straps on his harness. “All right, Mother. Chippy, Joe—tie the lady on.”

“
What?
” Miss Barmy bared her teeth. “This is ridiculous. I am
not
going anywhere on a
chipmunk.
Release me! I demand—”

“Gag her,” Buck ordered.

“Yes,
sir.
” The Rat snapped into a perfect Cub Scout salute, and tightened the shoelace around her mouth again.

“Mmpff! Rmmff!” came from Miss Barmy.

Emmy stroked the Endear Mouse between the ears, calming herself by an act of will. She had to think. If Miss Barmy refused to tell where the Extract of Gerbil was, then perhaps—yes—perhaps there
was
another way.

“Chippy,” said Buck, “you carry Emmy. Mother, can you manage Joe?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Bunjee answered, already pulling another harness from a little pack and tossing it to Chippy. “I'm not feeble yet.”

Emmy patted the Endear Mouse on the back, urging it forward. “Can you take a little more weight, Buck?”

Buck shrugged. “Sure. Endear doesn't weigh much more than a dandelion anyway.”

Miss Barmy, trussed like a turkey, strained against the shoelace, her eyes furious above the gag. The Endear Mouse perched behind her, gripping her waist tightly.

But the mouse's eyes grew troubled. It let go of Miss Barmy's waist and inched backward.

Emmy shook her head. “Hang on to her, Endear. It won't be for long.” She got on Chippy's back and strapped herself in.

Buck stood on his hind legs. “Buckle up, kids—here we go!”

Chippy bounded up—chair, desk, windowsill—and Emmy's head jerked back with the sudden motion as they vaulted through the air. Shaken, she gripped the harness more tightly.

“All right back there?” Chippy spoke over his shoulder.

Emmy looked over the ledge. It was a
long
way down.

“We're all right.” Joe, a little breathless, leaned over Mrs. Bunjee's back. “Just think of it as a roller coaster, Emmy.”

“Whooaaa!” The cry was torn out of her mouth as Chippy sprang off the window ledge into thin air. Emmy's throat clenched as she looked down at the lawn far below and the oak leaves on branches that looked impossible to reach.

Chippy scrabbled with his claws and barely gripped the tip of a branch. It bent under the sudden weight, and Emmy swung upside down.

Blue sky—hot sun—leaves with thick veins waved overhead, and a green caterpillar as thick as her arm paused in its munching to stare at them. Then they were right-side up again, and safe on the sturdy part of the branch. Emmy started breathing again.

“Whew!” Chippy wiped his forehead with his paw. “I forgot to calculate for the extra weight!”

“Careful,” warned Buck, from the next branch over. “That was a near thing.”

“Too true,” said Chippy. “All right, you rats?”

“All—right—” wheezed Raston, gripping a branch for dear life. Sissy nodded rapidly several times, her eyes tightly shut.

“All right, then—onward!” said Chippy, and leaped again.

Oh, help, Emmy thought as she felt Chippy's hind legs bunch. And then they launched into the air—rising, falling, landing with a bump—another spring, another heart-stopping landing, another jump.

Miss Barmy flew past, clinging desperately to Buck's harness, her chin dropped in a soundless shriek. Emmy laughed, suddenly exhilarated. Up, down, leap and land—now that she was used to it, riding on Chippy's back
was
like a thrilling roller
coaster that went on and on. She loved the rushing wind through her hair, and the soaring feeling at the top of each leap, and the green smell of the leaves as they brushed by her face. It might be fun to be a chipmunk.

A last, rolling leap. A dizzying scamper headfirst down a tree. A rush across a lane to the front door of the Antique Rat—a scratching at the door—and they were in.

“Well, well, who have we here?” The professor, kneeling on the floor, untied Miss Barmy from Buck's back. The Endear Mouse jumped away with a look of relief and ran to Emmy's arms.

“Bad—bad lady—bad—” came the thought, like a whimper in Emmy's mind.

Emmy held the little mouse close and thought a certain thought with all her strength.

The Endear Mouse twisted in her embrace and looked up, its eyes bright and alert. It sent another thought back—and Emmy laughed aloud.

“Is that all of it?” she asked.

The Endear Mouse nodded happily.

“Good,” said Emmy. She moved to the still trussed Miss Barmy, slid a hand into the nanny's left-side
pocket, and pulled out a little vial. Brian's lettering was still visible on the tiny label.

“Mmmmmff!”

Emmy ignored the nanny. “Here's your Extract of Gerbil,” she said, holding it out to the professor. “It shrunk some, I guess—but it's all there.”

Professor Capybara nodded with deep satisfaction and tucked it safely away. “I am so
very
relieved, my dear,” he said, setting Emmy and Joe on the desktop.

The rodents swarmed up the desk legs. Brian, who had been in the back room, shouldered through the velvet curtain holding a cage. And the professor picked Miss Barmy up by the shoelace ends and began to cut her bonds with nail scissors.

“Now really, Miss Barmy,” he said, setting her on the desk blotter, “you mustn't play around with rodent powers like this. Just see how you've shrunk yourself!”

“It's not
my
fault,” she said icily. “I know these rodents have unusual powers—but I never dreamed that Emmaline would use them against
me
.”

The nanny fished a tiny mirror out of her pocket and made an attempt to smooth her hair, tangled
from the wild ride through the treetops. “You may not be aware of it, Professor, but Emmaline has severe mental problems, well documented by the school psychologist. They have an opening for her at the Home for Troubled Girls. You've heard of it, I'm sure?”

The professor looked at her with distaste. Brian set Cheswick's cage on the desk with a clank.

“Jane!” Cheswick Vole's voice squeaked as he caught sight of Miss Barmy, and he rattled the bars of his cage. “Oh, Jane, my precious, we're the same size now. Think how happy we could be together.”

“Stop blathering,” snapped Miss Barmy, “and tell me how to get bigger!”

“She's the one,” said Cheswick, pointing at Sissy as Brian set his cage on top of the desk. “She gives you a kiss, and then you grow.”

“I should have known it would be something disgusting.” Miss Barmy looked at Sissy coldly. “Very well, then, hurry up, can't you? And don't slobber when you do it.”

Sissy looked at her doubtfully. “But I don't
want
to kiss you.”

Miss Barmy reared back. “Professor,” she hissed angrily, “make her do it!”

Professor Capybara leaned back in his chair. “I'm very much afraid,” he said to the ceiling, “that I do not have the right to
make
her do anything.”

Miss Barmy laughed coldly. “I've made people do what I want all my life, and it never bothered
me.
” She advanced on Sissy, her hands grasping. “Kiss me, you wretched rodent! Kiss me, or you'll regret it—”

She grabbed Sissy around the throat. The professor sat up in his chair with a bang, but the Rat was quicker. He leaped forward, snarling.

Miss Barmy twisted beneath him. “Let go,” she screamed, clawing at his face—“
Aaiiiiigh!
”

Mrs. Bunjee gasped.

“Already shrunken, and bitten again,” said the professor, the joy of research lighting his eyes. “I've always wanted to watch what happens. Haven't you, Raston?”

M
ISS BARMY LOOKED GHASTLY.
Her face twitched—shifted—twitched again—

“She's turning into a
rat
!” cried Cheswick. “Oh, my darling Barmy,
stop
!”

It was true. The transformation happened as they watched. Small pink ears grew triangular and large. Eyes grew beady and black. Miss Barmy's carefully coiffed hair flattened, grew furry, and extended down her body in patches of brown and white and tan. Her elegant face narrowed, lengthened, and grew whiskers on either side of a pink, twitching nose. Last of all came the tail. Miss Barmy turned, trying to see what was happening to her, caught sight of it, and fainted dead away.

There was a stunned silence.

“She's kind of cute like that,” said Raston at last. “Those little feet in the air and all.”

“I like her this way best,” said Joe cheerfully. “Completely silent.”

There was a sound of sobbing from the cage. “Oh, my Barmsie,” sniveled Cheswick. “Oh, Janie, darling, my sweetheart …”

The professor rubbed his hands together. “Fascinating. Simply
fascinating.
The way her hands changed to paws! And that little twitching nose!” He reached for a pad of paper and began to make notes.

“But Maxwell,” quavered Cheswick, “surely you aren't going to leave her that way?”

“I suppose we can't,” said the professor absently, still writing. “Cecilia, would you kiss her now, please?”

Emmy looked from Sissy to the professor. “So Sissy's kiss will turn her back from a rat to a human?”

“Yes, yes, it should. Cecilia and Raston each counteract the effects of the other.” Professor Capybara set down his pen and looked up.

Miss Barmy—or the rat that had been Miss Barmy—stirred, sat up, and smoothed her paws over her stomach. She looked down at her brown and white patches and gave a little shriek. “Good heavens, I'm a piebald!”

“That's not so bad,” said Sissy. “At least you don't have red eyes.”

“Well? Kiss me!” Miss Barmy demanded. “I certainly can't spend the rest of my life as a
rat.
”

“That's for sure,” said Raston. “You'd be a disgrace to the species.”

Sissy grimaced, kissed Miss Barmy's whiskered cheek, and stepped back to watch the transformation.

The clock on the wall ticked loudly in the waiting silence.

“Does it … usually take this long?” Miss Barmy asked, looking at her paws.

The professor stroked his beard thoughtfully.

“Kiss me again,” commanded the brown and white rat.

Professor Capybara's eyes never left the piebald rat as Cecilia kissed her again—and again. And then Miss Barmy began to wail—high, frightened squeaks that ran along Emmy's nerves like the screech of scraping tin.

“Shut her up, I can't think,” said the professor irritably.

Raston, Buck, and Chippy surrounded the rat that had been Miss Barmy and gagged her firmly.

“Does the power wear off when it's overused?” Professor Capybara muttered. “There's something
here I don't understand. Why doesn't Cecilia's kiss have any effect?”

“I know why.” The thought was inside Emmy's head—but it was not her own thought. She looked down at the Endear Mouse, who was pressed against her side.

“Wait,” said Emmy. “The Endear Mouse knows.”

The professor looked up, startled.

“Why, Endear?” Emmy asked. “Tell me.”

The Endear Mouse laid its paw in her hand and looked around the circle.

“She can't turn around,” Emmy said, repeating the words that came to her.

“What?”

“What does that mean?”

“How does the mouse know?”

Voices mingled in confusion. The professor raised a hand for quiet.

“The Endear Mouse can read thoughts when it touches someone,” Emmy explained. “It held on to Miss Barmy the whole way here. That's how I knew where to look for the Gerbil Extract.”

Miss Barmy's thin rat lips curled.

“But ‘can't turn around'? What does that mean, I wonder?” the professor murmured.

No one spoke. Emmy quietly held the mouse's paw.

“Okay,” she said at last, looking at the faces above her. “I think I've got it. The Endear Mouse doesn't really understand how it all works—”

“None of us completely understand,” interrupted Professor Capybara.

“—but it's kind of like there's only one direction Miss Barmy goes. She can get smaller and rattier, all right, but when she's got to become more human, and grow …”

Everyone turned to look at the piebald rat. Miss Barmy was grooming herself, looking unconcerned.

The professor nodded slowly. “I see. It's like a twoway street, with something blocking one lane. The traffic can only go south, never north.”

Sissy cocked her head. “So what does that mean? Some pathway inside her is all clogged up and won't let my kisses work?”

“Maybe it's all those wormballs,” said Joe. “That would clog up anything.”

“Joe may be right,” said the professor, glancing at the charascope. “An undissolved mass of resentment and hate might well have the effect of blocking any kind of growth.”

“So Miss Barmy stays a rat?” Joe asked. “For good?”

“There is always the hope that she will change back,” said the professor. “But it is likely to be a long and painful process.”

“What? Dissolving the hate?” said Emmy.

“And learning to love,” said the professor.

A howl broke from Cheswick, and he pounded the bars of his cage. “Let me out!” he cried. “
I
can give her love!
I
can turn her around!”

Miss Barmy rolled her ratty eyes above her gag.

“You can try,” said the professor, releasing the latch. “But I suspect it will take more than your efforts alone.”

“Dearest Jane,” said Cheswick, sliding to his knees, “I've loved you ever since fifth grade, when you let me cheat for you.”

Joe snorted.

Cheswick, busy untying Miss Barmy's gag, went on. “And in high school, you were my beauty queen.
I helped count the votes, remember? I made sure you won.” He pulled off the gag with a flourish.

“
What?
” Miss Barmy's furry face was outraged. “Did someone get more votes than
me
?”

“Well, yes—your cousin Priscilla. But you
deserved
to win, you were the prettiest.”

Miss Barmy preened.

Brian shrugged. “Good looks aren't everything.”

“They're practically
nothing
,” said the professor briskly.

Cheswick ignored them. “And you
should
have gotten old William's money and the house on the lake. I wanted to help you, so you would know how much I truly cared!”

Cheswick kissed Miss Barmy's hairy paw and continued all the way up to her shoulder. “Oh, my precious tulip, I looooove you,” he sang. “Your hair, like the softest silk—”

“Her hair isn't like silk anymore,” Joe reminded him.

“Your furry pelt, so brown and white and tan …”

“
This
is going to take a while,” muttered Chippy.

“Try kissing her again!” said Cheswick, his pale face alight with hope. “She's got to be full of love
now
!”

“I sure hope this is the last time,” said Sissy, and she kissed the brown and white cheek.

They all looked at Miss Barmy. If anything, she seemed to look even rattier.

“I'm afraid, Cheswick,” said the professor, taking out his pipe, “that your love is not what's required. Jane Barmy
herself
must learn to love.”

“Then let me be a rat, too!” cried Cheswick, clasping his hands. “Do this for me, Maxwell. If my love must be a rodent, then shall I be anything but a rat?”

The professor looked at him. “What about the shop?”

“The shop was only a way for me to get close to Jane,” Cheswick said desperately. “If I have Jane Barmy herself, why would I need the shop? You can have it. Here—I'll even put it in writing.”

The professor lit his pipe, puffing till he had it going steadily. “And what about Brian?”

“Who?” Cheswick looked momentarily confused. “Oh, him.”

“Yes, him,” said Professor Capybara sternly. “Your nephew.”

“He's not really my nephew,” said Cheswick Vole. “I just told them that at the orphanage. Cheap labor, you know. You can get rid of him, if you like.”

Brian looked stricken to the bone.

The professor flung an arm over Brian's shoulders. “This is a fine young man,” he said, “with a big, generous heart. I would be proud to call him my nephew; I only wish he were! He will have a job and a place here for as long as he wants.”

Brian's kind, homely face brightened. He looked at the professor with gratitude.

“Come on,” said Cheswick, speaking directly to Raston. “Do it. Just a little bite, though—you don't have to take my arm off.”

Raston looked at the professor.

Professor Capybara took the pipe out of his mouth. “All right,” he said quietly. “If you're
sure.
”

Cheswick held out his arm and shut his eyes. The Rat nipped it lightly.

As a man, Emmy thought as she watched the transformation, Cheswick Vole had looked rather ratty. But as a rat, he was undeniably handsome. His
eyes were dark and bold, his muzzle well whiskered, and his coat was a glossy black.

Buck untied the gag from around Miss Barmy's furry head. She sat up on her haunches, trotted over to Cheswick, and sniffed.

“Not bad,” she said grudgingly. “But listen up, Cheswick. I'm not living in Rodent City with a bunch of chipmunks.”

“You haven't been invited,” said Mrs. Bunjee stiffly.

“Chessie.” Miss Barmy leaned her head next to his and showed her buckteeth. “I know some people across the way. They'd be glad to take us in.”

“All right,” said Cheswick, looking dazed but elated. “Anything you want, my little rosebud, my precious, my Janie Wanie—”

“Can it,” said Miss Barmy succinctly and swarmed down the desk leg. Cheswick followed, seemingly enjoying his newfound agility.

“Watch out for cats,” said the professor genially, holding the door open.

“Ah, go kiss a duck,” said Miss Barmy as she skittered off.

They all looked out the window as the two rodents scampered over the green. A white curtain fluttered
at an upstairs window across the way, followed by a terra-cotta blur and a sudden crash.

“I HATE rodents!” The screech carried clearly through the still summer air.

“Mrs. Bee,” Joe said.

“Mother! NO!”
came a thin cry from the ground.

Emmy looked at Joe, realization dawning. It wasn't Mrs. Bee, like the insect—it was Mrs. B., for Barmy! And Mr. B. was Jane Barmy's father, who must have taught her to whittle!

“No wonder she's the way she is,” said Joe, “with a mother like that.”

Emmy nodded in instant agreement. But the professor shook his head.

“Jane Barmy had two parents,” he said, puffing away as he stared out the window. “She had a loving example before her, as well as a vicious one. She made her choice.”

The professor pointed with the stem of his pipe. “Looks like Cheswick and Miss Barmy made it across, and perhaps even into a tunnel. They'll be fine. But now—”

“Now we set the rodents in the back room free?” asked Brian.

The professor put a hand on Brian's shoulder. “Not yet, son. No, we have another task first. Joe, Emmy, it's time for you to grow.”

 

“Yes, Monica, it's quite a story.” Studley Jackell flashed his teeth for the camera. “Joe Benson has been found, but questions about his disappearance still remain. Where is Cheswick Vole, the prime suspect in the case? And what is his connection to Miss Jane Barmy, nanny for the Addison family, who is now under investigation by the police?”

A photo of Miss Barmy flashed on the TV screen at the police station. Emmy and Joe, side by side in a waiting room, watched with rapt attention as they munched on pizza that Officer Carl had brought.

“What indeed, Studley. I understand that a classmate of Joe Benson's, young Emmy Addison, was also at risk?”

“That's right, Monica. On a tip from Professor Maxwell Capybara, police arrived at the Addison home to find lawyers drawing up papers that would give their nanny, Miss Jane Barmy, complete control—”

Emmy shuddered. It had been a narrow escape. But Professor Capybara had things well in hand. Once they were back to full size, he had called the police. And he seemed to know just what to say.

“But what should we tell them?” Emmy had asked as he hung up the phone. “They'll have all kinds of questions!”

The professor had chuckled as he took out his pipe. “Why, if I were you, I'd tell them the truth,” he said. “That's always best, don't you think?”

The police had come at once. The professor had gone to talk to Emmy's and Joe's parents himself. And now the toughest decision Emmy had to make was whether she wanted pepperoni or sausage.

“And so police are continuing to search for partners in crime Jane Barmy and Cheswick Vole,” intoned the voice of Studley Jackell, as photos of Cheswick and Jane appeared again.

“They look furrier now,” muttered Joe through a mouthful of crust.

“A truly amazing story, Studley. But even more amazing is the personal service you get at Ron Ronson's Used Cars …”

Officer Carl, the policeman who had picked them up, came into the room and rubbed his mustache. “Okay, you kids. I want you to repeat what you told me to Sergeant Harrison here. You know, about the rats.”

Joe put down his pizza, and swallowed. “There were these rats, see, and they shrank Emmy and me—,” he began.