Mean Margaret by Tor Seidler

Author:Tor Seidler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers

“Phoebe, thank goodness!” said the bedraggled woodchuck. “I went by your burrow and found a horrid old badger squatting there.”

While Phoebe hugged the moist children, Fred stared numbly at the driving rain. Now, on top of everything else, his once lovely home had been taken over by a badger.

“I’ve been meaning to drop by to tell you we moved,” Phoebe said, “but I’ve had my paws full. What are you doing out in this weather?”

“We woke up all wet, Aunt Phoebe!” Matt chirped. “It was cool!”

“The stream rose and flooded us out,” Babette moaned. “We’re homeless!”

“Don’t be silly,” Phoebe said, scooping up the two little ones. “Just follow us.”

Oh, lord, thought Fred.

When they arrived back at the cave, the snake hissed out a laugh. “You look like a herd of possums,” he said.

While Fred indignantly shook himself dry, Margaret scowled at the newcomers. “Who?” she said, pointing.

“It’s not nice to point, dear,” Phoebe said. “This is my sister, Babette, and these are her children—your cousins.”

“No!”

“Well, not by blood, of course. But in a way Fred and I are your parents, and these are my niece and nephews.”

“No room!” Margaret declared.

“No room, dear? What do you mean?”

“No room!”

For once, Fred agreed with the child.

“You mustn’t say that, Margaret,” Phoebe said. “Would the rest of you mind if they stayed for a while? Their burrow got flooded.”

Except for the snake, who said nothing, the animals were all very cordial. The three little ones were exhausted and went right to sleep in a corner of the cave.

Babette took this opportunity to fix her fur. “Hiya,” she said, noticing the coiled-up snake.

The snake grunted.

“What are you doing?” Babette asked.

“Trying to relax.”

The snake coiled himself up the other way, so his head faced away from her—leaving Babette totally bewildered. In her whole life no one had ever reacted to her like this.

She was still in a state of confusion when the children woke from their naps and started running wild around the cave. The squirrel was out, the skunk had kindly gone with Phoebe to help carry back the bowl of goat’s milk, and the bats were trying to doze, so it fell to poor Fred to try to get the brats under control.

Margaret, of all creatures, rescued him from his babysitting. She lunged at one of the smaller woodchucks, and when the tiny thing curled up in self-defense, she picked it up and bounced it off the wall like a furry little handball.

“Fun!” she cried.

She used all three of the youngsters for her game. They didn’t seem to enjoy it as much as she did. One by one, they stumbled back to their corner and fell in a dazed heap. Fred almost felt like thanking the child.

The handball game was the most activity Margaret had had since the move to the cave, and that evening she passed out early. The handballs themselves were pretty worn out, too. While Phoebe and the skunk helped Babette put them to bed, the squirrel laid out a cold buffet supper for the rest of them.

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