Grandma wailed. "Oh, my beautiful new table all bit up, and my linoleum ruint."
"Pshaw! The little ones ain't bigger'n nothing," Grandpa said, flashing a wink at Paul.
At the door of the mess hall Maureen stopped in her tracks and began jumping up and down as if she had the answer to a riddle. "It's Wait-a-Minute!" she shouted. "She's had kittens again!"
Paul smiled. "Yep, Grandma's kitchen is a mew-seum now."
The children and even Grandma and Grandpa laughed in relief, not because they thought the joke so funny, but because it was good to be together again.
The refugee room had been transformed—cots lined up against the wall, neat as teeth in a comb, and new tables and chairs, and a television set with a half-circle of giggling children.
The Beebes went directly to their corner. Maureen and Grandma were still full of questions. But the answers were short.
"Yup, Misty's okay."
"No, no sign of Skipper anywheres."
"Rabbit's gone, too."