Free Bless this Mouse by Lois Lowry Page A

you."
    Roderick leaned against the crystal and silver container and Hildegarde carefully climbed to his shoulders, then placed her rear paws, one by one, on the top of his head.
    "Ouch!"
    "Can't be helped!" she told him. "Now hold very still."
    He did so, and she lifted her cotton-coated tail up, and up, then curled it and dipped it into the open top of the container.

    "What's in there?" Roderick asked when she brought her tail out, dripping.
    "Chrism."
    "
Chrism?
What's that?" As she lowered her tail, he sniffed it. "Smells like the pine trees in the cemetery."
    "It's holy oil," she told him. "Actually, olive oil scented with balsam. Help me down now."
    Getting down was slightly easier than getting up had been, even though her tail was heavy with wadded, oily cotton stuffing. Hildegarde went first. Holding her tail up so as not to smear the carpeting, she scurried over to where Lucretia waited.
    "Hold my tail so it doesn't touch the glue, Roderick, and then squeeze," she directed him.
    Little by little they dabbed the oil on Lucretia's glued parts while she whimpered. Several whiskers were hopelessly lost. But carefully, one by one, they were able to extricate her legs. Finally, only her tail was still stuck to the trap. With one last squeeze of the remaining oil, they moistened it, then tugged. Lucretia howled in pain, but the tail came loose at last and she toppled onto the carpet. Her fur was torn and mottled, and one paw was bleeding. She was weak, and weeping. But she was free. "Thank you," she gasped.
    "Go and hide quickly," Hildegarde told her. "The service will be starting soon. Roderick and I will clean up in here."
    Lucretia turned and limped heavily toward the door. Then she looked back with gratitude. "Hildegarde," she said, "you're a saint."

Chapter 12
The Blessing of the Animals

    Ignatious appeared at the slightly opened door. "The pews are filling up! And the procession's lining up outside!" he said. "Dripping wet!"
    They could hear Father Murphy approaching the sacristy. "Hide in here with us, Ignatious!" Hildegarde suggested quickly. "Get behind the draperies, and be quiet while he puts his vestments on. Then we can go peek out and watch, after he leaves."
    Ignatious scurried across the room and crouched behind the heavy draperies with Hildegarde and Roderick. "Oh my lord, what's that?" he whispered, pointing to the glue trap which they had pushed against the wall. "And whose fur is on it?"
    "Shhh. Lucretia's. But she's all right. We got her out."
    "Duck!" said Roderick. "Here he comes."
    Father Murphy entered and looked around. They held their breath. Hildegarde watched his black shoes move across the carpet, and then his hand reach down and pick up the cork that was lying on the floor. There was no way that she and Roderick could have returned the cork to the shelf.
    "Oops! Popped your cork, did you?" They heard him chuckle. The sounds indicated that he had reached for the container of holy oil and moved it to the sink counter.
    Then he opened the closet, removed his hanging vestments, and clothed himself for the ceremony. He was humming. Finally he took a deep breath and left the sacristy.
    They could hear Trevor play a loud chord and the congregation began to sing. "
All things bright and beautiful, all creatures great and small...
" After all the verses of the hymn, Father Murphy would make some announcements, as always. Then the procession of the animals would begin.
    Hildegarde whispered to Ignatious, a little shyly, "She called me a saint."
    "Who did?"
    "Lucretia. Because I got her out of the glue trap. I used holy oil."
    "Well, you
are
a saint, then! And actually, there
is
a Saint Hildegarde! Right up there among Saint Helena, Saint Honorata, Saint Hyacinth..."
    Roderick interrupted. "What exactly is a saint, Ignatious?"
    Well! As if it weren't obvious! What a downright silly question! Hildegarde sniffed and raised an eyebrow at Roderick. What an old fool! But he was so sweet.
    Ignatious frowned,