He was stuffing whatever he could reach into his sack—a green and gold track suit, a glittery evening gown, a white fluffy thing he couldn’t identify—when a vibration in the floor sent a shiver through his claws.

The black rat lifted his head alertly. Someone was pounding up the stairs, someone gigantic. He dropped the rucksack at once. If he had learned one thing in his few weeks as a rat, it was to avoid anyone who was large and thumping. In a moment all that could be seen of him was his tail, disappearing beneath a toy chest; and in one moment more, the only sign of his presence was a small sack half full of Barbie clothes.

Emmy skidded into the playroom, dropped the newspaper, and rummaged in her toy chest. No telescope there... she checked in the science cupboard, and the art cabinet, and behind the carved Austrian dollhouse. It wasn’t on any of the shelves lining the room from floor to ceiling; and it wasn’t rolling among the balls and hockey sticks. Emmy peered inside all twenty-three Lego bins, and wished (not for the first time) that she didn’t have so many toys. It was embarrassing when people came to visit; and when she tried to find something, it took forever.