Hollyberry yawned and stretched in his chair. “Morning, Bremmun. See for yourself. I worked the tails off them both until late last night, washing nightgowns, stitching pillowcases. They’re two very sorry young uns—cried themselves to sleep after all those chores.”

Bremmun’s face softened, and he stared guiltily at the two young sleepers, Arula sucking her paw, Samkim with his bushy tail curled under the pillow.

“By the fur ’n’ whiskers, Brother, you must have driven them hard. They look completely tuckered out.”

Hollyberry raised his eyebrows. “I was only carrying out your instructions. You set the penalty.”

“Do you think they’ve had enough?”

Hollyberry snorted. “Hmph! What do you think!”

“Yes of course, they have been punished sufficiently. When they wake you can tell them they are free to leave. D’you know, I feel quite awful about the whole thing. I just hope those young uns have learned their lesson.”

Hollyberry breathed on his spectacles, polished and rebalanced them on his nosetip, and stared earnestly at Bremmun. “Oh, I’m sure they have. Hmm, quite sure!”

A rather shamefaced Bremmun tip-pawed out, closing the door carefully behind him.

Samkim opened one eye and stifled a snigger. Brother Hollyberry wagged a paw at him.

“You squirrelly little wag, you were listening!”

“Hurrhurrhurr! Oi wurr a-listenin’ too, zurr Berr’olly.”

The old mouse shook his head ruefully. “It’s not good for young ones to hear their elders tell lies.”

Samkim sprang grinning from the bed. “But you weren’t telling lies, Brother. You just forgot what sort of jobs you gave us. Eating candied chestnuts is very hard work—my jaws are still aching!”

Arula tumbled to the floor, clinging to her pillow. “Aye, zurr, an’ playen yon game. Boohurr, those pebbles ’n’ acorns be fearful ’eavy. ’Spec’ moi young mussles be infected fer loif, hurr!”

A smile hovered about Hollyberry’s face. It was soon replaced by a grin as his chuckles turned into rib-quaking laughter. Arula and Samkim rolled about the floor in merriment.

“Ahahahahoohoo! Old Bremmun had a face on him like ahahaha! Like a frog suckin’ a rock. Heeheehee!”

*   *   *

An infant dormouse pursued Abbess Vale across the front lawn from the Abbey to the gatehouse. “Muvva Vale, Muvva Vale, when’s a Nameday?”

The old mouse turned her eyes skyward in despair. “Dumble, will you please stop pestering me! I haven’t had breakfast yet and I can’t think right if I’m hungry. Now be off with you this instant!”

The little dormouse carried on tugging Vale’s habit and pleading. “Owww! Stoppa momint, Muvva Vale, an’ say when’s a Nameday, or Dumble turn all purkle an’ cry!”

The Abbess halted and wagged a severe paw. “You’ll turn purple and cry, eh? Are you threatening me?”

The infant smiled and nodded. “Mmm yeh, Dumble go all purkle an’ cryancryancry lots!”