Meanwhile, Mrs. Tenderstitch sat in front of the Thread Pusher named Brother, and sewed. The Threader assisted her when the thread needed changing, and the bobbins needed winding. His eyes could see into the places that her eyes strained to see. The Spool Bearer helped as well, bringing the different colored spools at Mrs. Tenderstitch's direction. Flying up to the spool rack with her angel wings, and back again while Grace Tenderstitch waited. At feet was her constant companion, a dog , and not just any dog, but a Bouvier des Flanders. His name was Murray.
He was black and gray, and woolly and large and beautiful. She loved him pure and simple. Around and about them all was a small mountain of fabric, lace and Fiberfill batting. You could barely glimpse the top of her graying head, as she sat in her favorite wooden chair.
As the Holiday sewing was over, and with it the terrible rush of the Making, Grace Tenderstitch fell to making some things for herself. She needed a new Studio apron and trousers. Most of her things including her new Pajamas were spattered with paint. She wore these garments anyway, and if the paint was a badge of Honor for her artistic endeavors then so be it...it would most likely be the only honors she was likely to receive. These were only a few of the negative thoughts that plagued her. Grace was unfortunately given to ruminating, thinking and rethinking. She was unaware of the Tiny visitor that confronted her cat, Swain, at the Baseboard entrance to her home in the Baggaraggs. She was unaware of the Message of danger that Maybell was to deliver, or the changes that were to take place in the Baggaraggs. She was unaware that right this very moment, the Loch that bordered the lands of Over the Hill was being invaded by a band of Blood thirsty PIE-Rats!