Trixie didn’t return, but Joseph did—back from New Orleans.

From her windowsill Celeste heard the shouts of greeting as a horse trotted up the lane, and her pulse quickened as she saw Joseph was the rider. “He’s back!” she squeaked, scampering down the attic steps. Joseph yelped in delight when he found her perched on his worktable.

“Little One! You’re back! I knew you’d come back. I hoped and I prayed…but I knew you would.” Joseph produced a walnut meat; and Celeste wiggled and squirmed deliriously, happy to be back in Joseph’s shirt pocket.

“You should have seen the city, Little One,” he said. “So much to see. All sorts of shops and markets, and so many people. The streets full of rich folks, poor folks, all kinds. I saw some fancy buggies, and beautiful horses. And at night the streets all lit up with gas lamps. And the smells! You need to be mighty careful where you step, let me tell you. I don’t know how they stand it—the smells—day after day. But New Orleans is quite a place.”

He gently fished Celeste out from his pocket and nuzzled her to his chin. “I missed you, Little One. I had no one to talk to. I’d find myself talking like you were there. I’d say, ‘Look at that cage of nonpareils, Little One,’ or ‘Have you ever laid eyes on a lady with hair the color of a melon before, Little One?’”

They heard the big farm bell ringing outside; it was suppertime.

“I know better than to take you with me. Now, you be a good little mouse and stay here while I go eat some vittles.” Grabbing his bandanna, he fashioned her a nest and left her there on the desk. “I’ll be back.”

Celeste began to think of her attic home. “One short trip up the stairs,” she said to herself. “Just to see it one more time. I’ll be back before supper is over.”

Across the hallway she darted to the attic steps. She slipped through the knothole just as the cat was sauntering its way down the hallway toward her.

Keenly aware of the fresh scent of mouse, the cat positioned itself at the knothole.

Celeste heard the clock downstairs chime one, two, three, all hours until the sun was nearly up. Finally, at dawn, Joseph returned from supper, calling for her, searching the room not far away. But he was exhausted after his journey from New Orleans and soon collapsed on the cot in a dead sleep. Still the cat sat and patiently watched the knothole.

Finally, near dawn, Celeste climbed the attic steps and nestled in her bed. She closed her eyes, thinking, I’ll help Joseph with his paintings later. He’ll feed me nuts and scratch under my chin. That cat can’t guard the attic door forever.