Emmy and the Rats in the Belfry Read Online Free PDF Page A

for the slight smacking sound of Cecilia’s kisses.
    â€œI didn’t hear anything,” Joe said.
    Raston sneezed. “Me neither. But my ears are all plugged up. I think I have allergies.”
    Emmy patiently moved Sissy along, square by square. Her arm ached, but she didn’t want to let the professor down. He thought she was responsible, at least.
    â€œHey, guys!” Chippy’s voice sang out from a hole in the wall, and he scampered across the floor and up onto the countertop. “Need any help?”
    â€œNot really,” said Raston, keeping an eye on the timer.
    Chippy sniffed the air. “Something smells like—like—”
    â€œChipmunk?” Raston suggested politely.
    â€œLike toothpaste,” said Chippy. “Sort of minty fresh.” He tipped his head back to watch. “Hey, why don’t you rig up a sling, Professor? Sissy could be suspended at the perfect height.”
    â€œIt’s not a bad idea,” said the professor.
    â€œI could design one.” Chippy paced back and forth, his paws behind his striped back. “You could do more squares, faster!”
    Professor Capybara shook his head. “Cecilia can’t do too many in one day. The goop irritates her lips and makes them sore after a while.”
    â€œTime’s up!” said the Rat.
    â€œAnd now to cross-link the polymers with ultraviolet light,” said the professor. “Goggles, everyone!”
    A bank of tubular lights blazed on as the timer began to tick. And above the ceiling tile, in the space between the floors, a piebald rat stared through a small hole as if mesmerized.

5
    â€œN O COOKBOOKS ?” said the Rat, pacing the kitchen counter in the professor’s upstairs apartment. “No spices?”
    â€œSalt and pepper,” said the professor, handing out sodas from the refrigerator.
    â€œHe’s got ketchup and mustard, too,” said Joe, peering in over the professor’s shoulder.
    Raston snorted.
    â€œAnd why would I need a cookbook?” Professor Capybara popped open a can for himself. “I just follow the directions on the box.”
    The Rat mumbled a word that Emmy didn’t quite catch.
    â€œRatty, not everybody likes to cook—” Emmy began, but stopped at the sound of an engine’s sputtering cough. The door downstairs banged open, and Brian’s voice called out, “I’ve brought someone you know! Remember Ana?”
    Emmy glanced at Joe. Of course they remembered Ana. She had been the oldest of the girls they had rescued just two weeks before.
    The professor started down the staircase at once. “Welcome!” he cried, and Joe followed at a trot.
    â€œCome on, Ratty,” said Emmy. “Sissy’s downstairs with Chippy. And don’t you want to see Ana again?”
    â€œOh, sure,” said the Rat. “Anything to get out of this excuse for a kitchen. Not one single cookbook! And look!” He pointed accusingly at a shelf. “ Imitation chocolate!”
    A lady from the Children’s Home had come with Ana, and she was talking. Emmy, walking carefully down the stairs with the Rat on her shoulder, had no trouble hearing her.
    â€œOh, my, such beautiful antiques, and decorated with such lovely—er, lovely—what are these creatures?”
    Through the open door, Emmy could see a thin woman with bright red hair pointing to the carved back of a chair.
    â€œWhy, rodents, of course,” said Professor Capybara. “It’s the Antique Rat, you see.”
    â€œOh!” The woman clapped a hand to her mouth and muffled a shriek. “I mean to say, how special !”
    â€œDo sit down, my dear Miss—I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your name?”
    â€œSquipp,” she said, clutching her elbows. “Gwenda Squipp. But we can’t stay long, Professor … Kippy-burpa, was it?”
    â€œCapybara,” said the professor, bowing