Greetings of the Season and Other Stories (41 page)

“I am not going to London, Squire, and I am not looking for a bride. I already found one, if Alice will have me, and if we have your blessing. We do, don’t we?”

“Love her, do you?”

“With all my heart, till my dying day.”

“Good, for I fear she’ll have no other. Just like her mother, she is, knows her own mind and won’t settle for less. You’re a lucky man, Vicar.”

“She hasn’t said yes yet.”

Squire laughed. “She will.”

She did, after the rest of the worshipers left the churchyard.

“You are sure, Alice? Life won’t be all parties and pretty gowns and trips to Town.”

“Such a life would be pointless, without you in it. But are you sure, Evan? You could find a woman with a larger dowry.”

“But none I could love more. Will you marry me, my Alice, now that I am a man of means and can make you an honorable offer? I promise to fix the vicarage roof and windows first, of course, so you are not frozen by the drafts.”

“I would marry you if we had to take up residence in the barn, my love. And I refuse to wait until all of the renovations are completed. You will just have to keep me warm until then.”

As Alice and Evan went to help serve Christmas dinner in the vicarage, they made a detour around the back of the church, to seal their pledge with a kiss. They were out of sight of everyone but two very small observers.

“I told you they weren’t very smart,” said Pass, rubbing at his ear.

“How so? These two seem to be catching on to the really important business of life. I’d wager there’s the patter of little feet in the nursery before next Christmas.”

“What, are those barn mice moving in now that Dread Fred stays in the kitchen?”

“No, you dunderhead, a baby.”

“Oh. Well, I might be a dunderhead, but how long do you figure before those human people think to look at the rest of the statues?”

*

The parishioners uncovered the rest of the gold before Twelfth Night. St Cecilia’s didn’t need half as many candles, with all the gleaming. It just needed an extension, to hold everyone who came to see.

And Exultemus Domine was right: The Merriweathers had a daughter within the year, named Faith. She arrived not too many months after the somewhat premature birth of the viscount’s heir, Randolph Francis Pemburton Whitmore.

Long before that, young Passeth-All-Understanding had a mate of his own, and her mother and sisters moved in, too, with a cousin or three, and an old auntie to keep Ed company. Together they managed to drag a new book behind the altar, for bedding and names for the next generation.

The firstborn, the biggest and strongest and smartest mousekin, was the cub chosen to be the leader, the one destined to guard the clan’s perpetuation. They named him after the vicar who made sure they were well fed, and after the new book.

His name was Merriweather Christian Hymnal Churchmouse.

They called him Merry Christmouse, for short.