The sun was changing the room from gray to gold when Celeste awoke to the creaking of the rope mattress just inches away. She peeked out of her boot and saw a young man pad across the room. She noticed the wave of chestnut hair. She recognized him. It was Joseph, Mr. Audubon’s helper.

He was at the armoire, wearing a linen shirt, which was stained with what looked like paint or ink, and holding a leather boot in one hand. He was searching for something.

Then he was on his knees, scanning the floor.

He sat back, scratching his head. “Now where is that other one?” he said, pulling on one boot.

Celeste suddenly realized what he was looking for. She cowered deep inside the boot and blinked.

That’s when Joseph finished putting on one boot, and then began his search again. He swung around toward the bed.

Celeste felt her stomach sink as the boot was lifted. Her claws gripped the inside of the leather. In an instant there was complete darkness as Joseph’s toes were thrust in, right toward Celeste.

She squealed in terror and, wriggling for all she was worth, tried to somehow escape the foot looming above her.

“Yeow! What the dickens?” yelled the boy, dropping the boot in surprise. It fell with a clunk, knocking Celeste back down into the toe. Dazed, she peeked out. There was Joseph, looking in.

“Oh! A mouse!” said Joseph, smiling. He lifted Celeste carefully from the boot, cradling her with two hands.

Celeste was paralyzed, gripped around the chest with fear, unable to breathe much less jump or even move. Instinct told her to at least wiggle and squirm, but she could not. Her deep brown eyes could only stare at Joseph, whose own blue eyes showed that he meant no harm; they twinkled in bemusement.

“You’re a pretty little thing,” he said. “Maybe we can use you. Let’s see…here’s something that’ll hold you.”

Joseph took a small cage made of twigs from the shelf over the desk and nudged Celeste into it. “We made this for an oriole,” he said, “but it’ll work just right for you, too, Little One.”

Celeste quickly scurried into a corner, making herself as small as possible, glancing nervously about for an exit. There was none.

“Now I’ll have company while Audubon is out,” the boy said. “Lord knows it’s lonely enough around here…lonely enough to talk to a mouse.” He sat down to put on his other boot.

“What in the…?”

He reached into the boot and pulled out a tangle of nibbled paper, leaves, and wool yarn. “My sock!”

He looked at Celeste and smiled. “Next time, ask my permission first,” he said, tossing Celeste’s nest through the open window. She let out a tiny cry when she thought of the food supplies—watermelon seeds…bread crumbs—that were now gone. And her baskets—a lot of hard work—lost.

She hadn’t lived in her nest in the toe of the boot for long, but it had been home. Now it was out the window.