stopped in the doorway, struck by Holland’s cryptic smile. Then his brother had turned his back, stood idly staring out the window, watching where Mr. Angelini worked among the windrows of fallen hay, gathering them onto his fork and tossing them into the wagon. Niles left then, cradling the rat between spread fingers and, a dry whirring of feathers behind him, ran quickly down the stairway, his heart in his mouth; but even before he reached the bottom he felt quite certain that however much water might be provided, it would not be sufficient to restore the rat. The animal would never touch
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