It's Thursday.

Chapter 10: Clouds Over the Hill

BLACK grief wrapped the Hill, for of all the younger Animals Little Georgie was the most beloved. His cheerfulness and youthful enthusiasm had always brightened the days for the older ones, his unfailing willingness had made him invaluable to Mother. For Father he had been an apt pupil and a congenial hunting companion. The long runs they had had together, the many times they had outwitted and tricked blundering Dogs, all came rushing back now and overwhelmed poor Father with inconsolable sorrow. Mother had taken to her bed, and their daughter Hazel had been summoned From over Charcoal Hill wav to take over the running of the household. She was not a very good cook and had brought along three of her youngest children. Their senseless chatter drove Uncle Analdas frantic and he avoided the burrow as much as possible, spending long, gloomy hours with Phewie, Porkey, or the Red Buck. "What a runner he was," said the Buck sadly. "What a runner. Many's the time he'd run with me clear up Weston way, not on business, just for the fun of it. Up there and back before breakfast, and him real young too. Sometimes I'd say, 'Are you tiring, Georgie?' and he'd only laugh. 'Tiring?' he'd say. 'Only just warming up'- and away he'd go. Made me stretch, times, to keep up." "And a leaper," said Uncle Analdas. "Clear'cross Deadman's Brook he lep. Seen the spot with my own eyes-a good eighteen foot if it's an inch. Ain't no Rabbit ever done the like of that before. Won't he another one likely neither." Porkey shook his head. "Cheerful too. Always a-laughin' and a-singin'. Don't seem right." "Them dingblasted automobiles," Uncle Analdas raged. "I'll fix 'em! I'll get 'em. Wait till there comes a good rainy night with that dingblasted Black Road all a-slimy and a-slippery. I'll hide me down at the curve there near the bottom of the Hill and when they come a-rampagin' and a-roarin' along I'll skip across in front of'em. That'll wake em up! You'll see I'll slain oil their brakes and go a-skiddin' and a-slitherin' and a-slidin' and a-crashin' into that there stone wall. "Used to do it up Danbury way when I was younger, just for cussedness. Four cars I wrecked on that hill up there, three of'em real bad. Too old now, though." He sighed helplessly. "Ain't spry enough. They'd get me sure." They sat in sad silence while the shadow of the Pine Wood crept slowly down the Hill, until the setting sun turned the buckwheat to a carpet of shimmering green-gold "Always used to come a-runnin' by 'bout this time," Porkey said. "Always called, 'Good evenin', Mr. Porkey.' Well brung up he was. Always called me 'Mister.' It just don't seem right." Even the approach of Midsummer's Eve did little to lift the gloom. The Animals watched the garden's progress with only a half-hearted interest. Feathery carrot tops, tender peavines with their succulent tendrils, fresh young lettuce beginning to head, jade-like cabbages, stout rows of beans -all these would formerly have been noted with ecstasy, but now no one seemed to care much. To Father the coming Eve promised more of unhappiness than pleasure, for they had planned to have a little celebration this year, he and Mother, a sort of Harvest Home after the storage room had been filled. All the neighbors would come in, there would be peavine and lettuce soup, and there were still a few small bottles of elderflower wine buried away. There would be games and laughter and singing, it would be just like the good old days - it would have been. The new storeroom had not been built. He and Uncle Analdas had no heart for it - and Little Georgie was to have made the shelves. Mother had made no plans for preserving or canning. She had only recently been able to sit up in her rocker. Father sat outside the burrow in the twilight; the incessant chatter of the youngsters made indoors impossible. Hazel herself was noisy and careless with the dishes. Near by, Uncle Analdas napped fitfully. Suddenly Father became aware of a small crowd hastening down the Hill. He could hear Willie Fieldmouse's excited voice, the squeaking of his cousins. He could see Phewie's bright black and white and distinguish Porkey's waddling bulk. As they neared the burrow Willie broke from the rest and came galloping toward them, his voice squealing in excitement. "I've seen him!" he called wildly. "I've seen him! Uncle Analdas, wake up, I've seen him--I've seen Little Georgie!" Bedlam broke loose. Hazel rushed to the doorway, her hands dripping dishwater; her three young ones jailed louder than ever; the Fieldmice twittered frantically. Mother tottered from her chair, and Uncle Analdas fell backward out of his. "Hush them blasted brats," he roared, scrambling to his feet. "How can anybody--" Everyone screamed questions at once. Phewie stamped the ground with his front paws. "Silence!" he shouted. His plumy tail arched ever so slightly. 'The first one says another word, I'll- " Silence fell at once, for Phewie never made idle threats. "Now, Willie," he said excitedly, "go on with your story." "Well," said Willie breathlessly, "I was on the window sill -- there's a new cover on the rain barrel and I wanted to try it and I did and it's a good stout one too -- I was on the window sill and I looked in and I saw him-I saw Little Georgie! He was lying in her lap, the Lady's, right in her lap an' -" "Haow 'bout that dingblasted old Cat?" interrupted Uncle Analdas. "Where was he?" "He was there, he was there too, and - he was washing Little Georgie's face." At this such an incredulous chattering broke out that Phewie was forced to arch his tail again. "He was too, he really was," Willie went on, "ears and all. And Georgie seemed to like it and once he bent his head down and Mr. Muldoon, the Cat, you know, he scratched the back of Georgie's neck for him. "Plea, likely," said Uncle Analdas. "And that's all I saw and I thought you ought to know, so I came right away-and that's all." "Was he -did he seem - all right?" Mother asked breathlessly. Willie hesitated a moment. "Well he - seemed to-well, his hind legs, his jumping ones, seemed to be tied up, sort of-with little sticks, like, and bandages." "Could he walk?" asked Father quickly. "Well, I don't exactly know, sir. You see, he was just lying in her lap, the Lady's lap-and I don't know-but he seemed real comfortable and happy like." "Thank you, William," said Father. "You are a good boy and a very observant and thoughtful one. We are overjoyed at your tidings and are deeply grateful. Anything further that you are able to discover we shall look forward to with the greatest eagerness. Relief and joy burst out in a flood of chatter, of questions and speculation. The glad news spread rapidly over the Hill, and the gloom that had hung there began to dissolve like the morning mist. Everyone dropped in to offer congratulations. Mother, of course, was still worried, but there was a light in her eyes that had not been there since that terrible night. They filled with tears, however, when Porkey-old Porkey, the shy and solitary, always ill at ease in social gatherings-waddled awkwardly up and offered his gnarled, clay-encrusted paw. "Ma'am," he said gruffly. "Ma'am, I-we-er-aw shucks" -and he hastened away.