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He pushed his bowl all over the kitchen with his nose, but no one noticed. The movers came and took everything away.

Oliver whined and yipped and ran in circles. Now the house was empty and the fireplace cold. No rocking chair sat before it, no little black book for Bertie to read, no reading glasses to see the words with, no Bertie. Oliver lay down where his rug used to be. He put his nose on his paws and tried to think. Without Bertie, who would brush his coat? Who would trim his whiskers? Who would fill his bowl?

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Oliver knew what he must do. He must find Bertie. She would wake up, wherever she was, and look for him.

Maggie & Oliver or A Bone of One's Own (Paperback)

She would swat at him and say, Oh, Oliver, you pesky dog. Where have you been? Far down the row of narrow beds stood Hannah, the head housekeeper.

Her face was the color of a ripe tomato, and her fists sat on her wide hips like lumps of bread dough. If Madame Dinglebush had found you before I did, out you would go. You foolish, lazy girl. Maggie hopped into her knickers, pulled on her shift and gray dress.

Maggie & Oliver or A Bone of One's Own by Valerie Hobbs | Scholastic

Tying her apron strings, she started to tell Hannah about the owl. How she had seen the big gray bird with bright red eyes that was perched on a branch of the oak tree right outside the window and—. Hannah had her by the arm and dragged her down the hall. There —she pointed— under that bed. And lots of dust besides.

You are living here only by the good graces of Madame, on whose doorstep you were found, she said. Earn your keep, girl, or Madame will cast you out. Maggie sneezed. She knew that Hannah was right. She was no longer a child. She was nearly eleven. She must perfect all the skills of keeping a fine house, or she would be out on the streets of Boston with nowhere to live.

If only she could quiet her brain. Maggie wriggled under the bedskirt. Sneezing, she began to dust. It had been very late when she had heard the hooo-hoo ing of the owl. She had gotten up and hurried to the window of the room where she and all the other maids slept. High up in the branches of an oak tree was a huge dark shape against the moon.

Why was it calling? Who was it calling? Was it seeking a mate? Did it live in this tree?

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Did owls live in the same tree all their lives? Was it a boy owl or a girl owl? The Duchess of Landsaway was coming, and Madame was in a frenzy. Everything must be perfect for the evening meal—the long white tablecloth starched stiff as paper, every serving spoon polished as bright as the first evening star. When the duchess entered the grand salon, the maids were to stand in a straight line with their eyes forward.

They were not to smile or curtsy.

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They were simply there for show. Madame would not have to brag about the number of maids she had. The duchess could see for herself and be very impressed. If all went well, the servants would be rewarded. Each would get a slice of pie, a small slice, perhaps with a drizzle of. This action might not be possible to undo. Are you sure you want to continue? Upload Sign In Join. Save For Later.

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Create a List. Summary Maggie is always full of questions. Read on the Scribd mobile app Download the free Scribd mobile app to read anytime, anywhere. Copyright Bertie? There, boy, said Gerd. Calm down, now. No one did. Who would love him for being the special dog that he was? By now, the trail would be cold. An Owl, a Duchess, and Dust Get up this minute, you silly, lazy girl! But life does not follow the storylines we plan for it. As she and Lesser prepare for the inevitable, they grow ever closer as their shared blood cells become a symbol of their enduring bond.

The story reveals how even our most difficult experiences can offer unexpected spiritual growth. Scroll down or click here to view the Marrow slideshow. This is a book about the courage it takes to own our stories, to look truth in the eye, and to write our own bold endings. No one truth-tells with more soul and tenacity than Elizabeth Lesser.