Lost
Over the next few days Thumbelina grew increasingly discouraged. She'd never gone anywhere without Mother or Jim, and was finding it impossible to know even which direction she ought to travel in. She was hungry, and the nights were chilly. And she seemed to constantly gather a crowd of animals who were very curious about this tiny human lost in the woods. Some of the birds tried to help search for her home, but they either came up empty-winged or were too impulsive to listen properly to Thumbelina's description. Not that it would have been very helpful anyway. According to the birds there were many farms with cows and chickens and old women and boys; and they hadn't the faintest idea which one belonged to her. Trying a different tactic, Thumbelina asked if the birds could find Cornelius, explaining that he would know how to get her home; but so far the fairy man had not been located.
Nine days after waking up on the toad boat the first frost hit, and the following day snow fell. The remaining birds flew south, and Thumbelina wished she could go with them and escape the cold. Coughing, she was trudging up a hill in the dim afternoon sunlight when something unusual caught her eye. It was a boot. A huge boot with a thick sock sticking out of it! Moving as quickly as her stiff limbs would allow, Thumbelina scrambled up to the boot and buried herself in the sock. While this helped cut the chill, she knew it wasn't a permanent solution; and looking out over the frozen landscape she despaired of making it through the winter or ever finding her family again.
Jim sat mutely at the kitchen table, gazing out the window as his supper lay untouched. Since Lina's disappearance a month ago, both he and his mother had spent countless frantic hours searching for their beloved girl; and Jim had officially abandoned any thought of leaving to crew on a ship. The young man had looked in every possible cranny of the farm, the surrounding fields, their favorite places in the woods. He even questioned people in the town, though commonsense dictated that Lina couldn't possibly have traveled that far.
As the days passed the house was too quiet, and the old woman's good food tasted like sawdust. Jim had lost count of the times he'd thought he'd heard Lina singing—only to see a bird fly away. Then the snow arrived, and Mother lost all hope that they would ever see Thumbelina again; she knew such a tiny girl couldn't possibly survive the winter without shelter. The brown-haired boy did what he could to comfort his mother in the face of his own grief; inside however, Jim stubbornly clung to the belief that Lina was alive and he continued searching, though with less and less hope.
Mrs. Fieldmouse's House
Thumbelina yawned, eyes still mostly closed. She was so warm, and in her half-awake state the presence of blankets and sounds of someone moving pots made her think she was home again. When she opened her eyes however, the person in the little kitchen was not Mother, but a mouse! Oh no, this is like the toads all over again! She thought, but when the furry creature turned to look at her with soft brown eyes Thumbelina relaxed a little. "Oh good, you're awake," the mouse bustled over and handed Thumbelina a steaming mug of tea. "Here, drink this. Poor dear, thank goodness I was coming back from a friend's and found you! You were nearly frozen solid, whatever made you think you could spend the winter in that old boot?"
After taking a grateful sip of the sweet tea, Thumbelina replied. "I've been lost, I was just trying to get out of the weather and I must have fallen asleep. Thank you, thank you for saving me." The mouse sat next to her, "Of course. What is your name dear? I'm Mrs. Fieldmouse." " My name is Thumbelina." "Well now Thumbelina, why don't you tell me where you're from and how you got lost just as winter arrived?"
Sitting in the warm room, a blanket around her shoulders and the mug—a mug my size, can you imagine!—in her hands; Thumbelina told the mouse her whole story: about her mother and Jim, how she met the fairy prince, getting kidnapped by the toads, and wandering through the woods without the faintest idea how to get home. Mrs. Fieldmouse listened sympathetically; but when Thumbelina finished her story by thanking her for her hospitality and saying she really must be on her way the mouse spoke up. "I'm mighty sorry Thumbelina, but I'm afraid you'll have to wait until spring to find your family." "Spring!" "Yes. Deary, you would freeze out there, even if you did know how to get home." Tears slid down Thumbelina's cheeks as she thought of Mother, who must be terribly worried, and Jim. Oh, how she wished she could see Jim! Mrs. Fieldmouse put a paw on the girl's shoulder. "I know it's hard, but you can stay here with me, and winter will be over before you know it." Thumbelina looked up, "That's very kind of you, but I couldn't possibly impose—" The mouse interrupted firmly. "Nonsense, where else would you go? Besides, it's only me here and, frankly, I would be glad of some company." Though disheartened, the girl also felt very relieved. "Alright, thank you."
Though she missed her family terribly, Thumbelina enjoyed the winter days with Mrs. Fieldmouse. For the first time in the girl's life all of the household items were her size, and she delighted in such simple things as being able to use a fork or help her hostess with the chores. The mouse taught her how to cook and sew, and in the evenings Thumbelina would sing for her as she knitted by the fireplace. The tiny girl also went with Mrs. Fieldmouse on social excursions, and met a great deal of creatures who lived in underground homes nearby.
One such neighbor was the blind Mr. Mole, who—as Mrs. Fieldmouse explained to Thumbelina—was very rich. Thumbelina thought the mole was nice, and he certainly loved her singing. As the months passed, Mrs. Fieldmouse noticed how Mr. Mole looked when Thumbelina visited; by and by she got the idea that Thumbelina should marry the mole. After all, she'd only met this Cornelius once, and she couldn't marry this Jim even if she did find him again. No, she would be much happier—certainly well-cared for—with Mr. Mole. Secretly, the mouse began to plan.