By Lois Lowry
"Fun and lighthearted." —Publishers Weekly
A resilient and quirky colony of church mice fears one other nice X greater than they worry cats. less than the Mouse Mistress Hildegarde’s management, a resilient workforce of church mice retailer themselves from one possibility after another—sometimes through the surface in their tails! Can one final act of bravery through the banquet day of St. Francis get Father Murphy to bless those mice and maintain them secure forever?
Rife with humor and character, this younger middle-grade novel has an old style think with the makings of a latest classic.
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Extra info for Bless This Mouse
Uh-oh," Roderick muttered, looking down. " asked Norma. " "Quite a distance, I'm afraid," Hildegarde said. She stood up. "But from here it's easier. We'll just turn a few pages at a time until we get to X. " She lifted a page with her paw and they could see how light it was. But there were such a lot of them! "Or we could eat them," Marvin suggested. He took a small bite of a P page, and made a face. "It tastes awful," he said. " Frederick shouted. " He aimed his tail carefully and flipped a page open with it.
They spent time on the floor, could see into crevices, and had graspy hands. But at least babies couldn't talk, and report a mouse sighting! The group to be most feared, Hildegard thought, was the Altar Guild. More than one of the ladies had actually shrieked upon happening on a mouse. Oh, dear. Always an uproar when that happened. ) Finally, after passing countless Sunday School rooms and making her way carefully around the complicated piping of the bathrooms, Hildegarde arrived at the entrance, a small gnawed hole, to the sexton's closet.
WHOOOOOMMM! Hildegarde jumped. Trevor Fisoli had arrived and was testing the organ up in the loft. He was using the crescendo pedal, and starting with the loudest possible chord at full throttle. All right, throttle wasn't the right word. She knew that. But Hildegarde felt that the crescendo pedal was very much like the gas pedal of a car. (And yes, Hildegarde had been in a car. She had found herself trapped in a child's backpack once, when she'd been looking for cookies during Sunday School. It was a foolish mistake; she was embarrassed, remembering.