TWENTY-SIX

As Pinky walked along the woods Mrs. Mim kept up a steady stream of conversation, occasionally reprimanding her children when they interrupted with their fantastic tales of things they had never done, or foods they had never eaten.

She abruptly stopped and said, “Joey, now you know you never swam in the creek! Why would you make up such stories?”

Joey’s cheeks turned bright red and Boo said, “He wants to impress Pinky!”

“Do not!” said Joey, giving his brother a swat with his tail.

“Mom, they’re fighting!” said Fiona.

“Off! All of you!” Mrs. Mim shouted, and her children slid off her back guiltily.

She whirled on them angrily and they shrank under her stern gaze. “I don’t approve of fighting,” she began. “Nor do I approve of lying. What must Pinky think of you children with your behavior?”

“Boo started it,” said Joey defensively. “He’s the one who said he went inside the Super Thrift to get a slice of pizza.”

“I said that I wanted to go inside,” protested Boo. “You’re the one who said you swam all the way to the ocean on your back!”

“Neither of them liked that Pinky rode on the school bus,” offered Fiona. “They were just showing off.”

Carl shoved one of the candies up his nose and began to hop around on one foot like a jumping bean to get Pinky to laugh, which she did.

“Carl, stop goofing off this instant! None of you are off my back long enough to engage in these wild adventures,” said Mrs. Mim angrily. “Why worry over riding a bus when you’ve got dear old Mom to hitch a ride on? If you’re all so grown up and ready to take on the world then you can find your own way home.”

“NO!” cried the children desperately.

“Just as I thought,” she clucked, softening at the sight of their terrified faces. “You’re my little scaredy-pusses after all.”

Pinky smiled as they climbed back onto Mrs. Mim’s back. “Silas uses that expression all the time, I thought he had invented it. It’s so funny to hear it all the way out here in these woods.”

Mrs. Mim ambled along cheerfully; glad to have her children settled down at last.

“Once there were three rats that tried to take over our compost heap and Silas attacked them single-handedly. He was telling the story the other night when my brother and I accidentally frightened everyone. Everyone except Silas, that is. Nothing could frighten him! Not rats, cats or bats! He called them all lily-livered scaredy-pusses!” laughed Pinky, and then suddenly felt despondent for being so far from those that she cared about.

“Ah, the famous battle between Silas and the evil rats from Har. I had no idea he was still alive. I’ll be darned,” said Mrs. Mim with surprise.

“You know Silas?” Pinky asked excitedly.

“Silas is legendary!” said Mrs. Mim with genuine reverence. “Every ‘possum has heard stories about his great bravery. He must be ancient by now. Would you say he’s one hundred years old?”

“I don’t think so,” answered Pinky who couldn’t count all the way to one hundred. “He kinda looks old, though. He’s got big, bushy eyebrows and his fur is pure silver, and the longest whiskers I’ve ever seen!”

“My, my,” mused Mrs. Mim. “Ol’ Silas still alive. Extraordinary.”

“I live in the same place as Ol’ Silas,” said Pinky and then remembered herself and quickly added, “I mean, Silas.”

“Well, my dear, someone is bound to know where you live.”

“Don’t you know?”

Mrs. Mim laughed softly, “I’ve only heard the stories, child, I was never fortunate enough to meet Silas personally.”