|
"Shhhh. Be very quiet. I’m
not sure if anyone’s here," Mac cautioned.
"It smells like someone is
here or just left. I smell lunch. I think he had…sniff…sniff….stovies, and
shortbread for dessert," Ian smiled.
The two raccoons crept in
through the front door. They tiptoed around from room to room. "Nobody’s
home," Mac sighed with relief.
"Let’s check the kitchen.
I’m starving. If we’re lucky, there’ll be a pot of stovies bubbling away
on the stove," Ian said, running into the kitchen. "Aha. He’s left a bowl
of it in the refrigerator. Delicious." He began to eat with his paws.
Mac looked in some of the
other rooms. He came to the studio. "Well, I see Jamie likes to paint.
Look at all of them. There must be dozens of paintings. Wow!"
Ian came walking through to
the studio, nibbling on some shortbread. Mac looked up. "Found some on the
counter. Want a bit?" he asked.
Mac shook his head. "Look,
Ian. Jamie is a painter and a good one at that. See this," Mac said,
holding up a painting of a bowl of fruit.
"Looks good enough to eat,"
Ian laughed.
Mac started rummaging
through the stacks of paintings, examining each one carefully. Ian walked
over to the easel. "Hmmm. Interesting. It looks like he’s started painting
something, but I can’t tell what. I think I’ll finish it for him." He
picked up the paintbrush, dipped it in the paint and started painting.
Mac continued looking
around. "All these paintings are stamped and ready to go to the McPherson
Galleries in the village. Jamie must be doing a show of his work. Good
lad, Jamie." He didn’t notice Ian was painting. Mac stood up straight and
turned around. "Ian! What are you doing?" he shouted.
"What? I’m just finishing
the painting," he said, not sure why Mac was shouting at him.
"You can’t do that. You
mustn’t do that. It’s Jamie’s canvas. Oh my. What shall we do now? When he
comes back and sees what you’ve done, he’s going to raise the roof!" Mac
was afraid. "I know. We’ll wrap it up in paper like these others, stamp
it, and he can think its one of his finished paintings. Quick, Ian, put
another canvas up on the easel and help me."
They wrapped the painting,
hid it behind the others and ran outside. "Oh, wait a minute," Ian called,
running back inside. He came back a moment later with a handful of
shortbread. "In case we get hungry," he said. The two raccoons ran back to
their tree.
Jamie returned home a few
hours later with the man from McPherson’s. "Take them all. I’ll be down
tomorrow to make sure you’ve set them up right," Jamie said. The man put
the paintings in his car and drove off.
Ian and Mac spent the rest
of the day hunting for acorns, nuts and berries. After a good meal, they
fell asleep. When the sun rose the next morning, it’s warmth shone down on
their soft gray fur. "Mac, let’s go into town today. It’s been a long time
since we’ve been to the village. I know that the bakery is making tarts.
They do every Tuesday. I’m craving a tart. Aren’t you?"
Mac yawned and stretched.
"A tart would be nice," he agreed.
They ran into town. "Maybe
we could stop by the dairy first for some fresh cream. I know Mrs. Kerr
leaves a bowl of it out each morning for that annoying cat of hers,
Fluffy. Can you believe such a name? Who’d name a laddie cat Fluffy?" Ian
and Mac had a good laugh over that. They found the bowl of cream, luckily
before Fluffy came home. The bakery smelled delicious. The raccoons could
smell the donuts and biscuits baking from down the street. "I smell Mr.
Hamilton’s tarts," Ian grinned.
"Me too. I can’t wait," Mac
said, hurrying a bit faster. They found a tray of tarts sitting on the
counter. Mr. Hamilton and his pet cat were nowhere in sight. "There they
are," Mac whispered. "Grab them before that cat comes back."
"Why do they all have cats?
They get all the good stuff; cream, fish and even tarts," Ian sighed.
"Just grab a couple of
tarts and let’s go," Mac ordered. Ian picked several up and they ran out
the back door and down the street. "Delicious," Mac said, biting into a
strawberry.
Ian agreed.
They walked down the main
street of the village. Suddenly Ian stopped. "What is that? Look!" he
shouted, dropping his tart on the ground.
Mac looked down. Ian
dropped his tart? That’s not like Ian. He looked to where Ian was
pointing. "It’s the art gallery, McPherson’s. What about it?"
"It’s my painting. See?
It’s in the front window!" Ian said.
They ran up to the window.
"It is your painting. It says Jamie painted it. They must have thought it
was pretty good to put it in the front window. It’s the only one!" Mac
said, patting Ian on the back.
"It is a good painting,
isn’t it? But why should I let Jamie take credit for it?" Ian pouted.
"Because you weren’t
supposed to be touching his paints and canvas and because we weren’t
supposed to even be in the house! Ian, you’re no Michelangelo. It’s only a
painting of a few trees," Mac reminded.
"Och, you’re right. Still,
it’s very good," Ian boasted.
Every day Ian and Mac
walked by McPherson’s Gallery to look at his painting. Ian was very proud.
Jamie was shocked to see the painting with his name on it. He had no
recollection of painting it in the first place. Presuming that he just
must have forgotten that he’d painted it, took the credit. He was never
sure about it though. Whenever Ian and Mac saw Jamie, they smiled, knowing
the truth. |
