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〃Watch；〃 I said； 〃and then tell me that。〃
From the bag on the table I took a spool which I had colored myself … not with Crayolas but with Magic Markers； an invention undreamed of in 1932。 It came to the same； though。 It was as bright as Del's had been； maybe brighter。 Messieurs et mesdames； I thought。 Bienvenue au cirque du mousie！
I squatted again； and Mr。 Jingles ran off my palm。 He was old； but as obsessed as ever。 From the moment I had taken the spool out of the bag； he'd had eyes for nothing else。 I rolled it across the shed's uneven； splintery floor； and he was after it at once。 He didn't run with his old speed； and his limp was painful to watch； but why should he have been either fast or surefooted？ As I've said； he was old； a Methuselah of a mouse。 Sixty…four； at least。
He reached the spool； which struck the far wall and bounced back。 He went around it； then lay down on his side。 Elaine started forward and I held her back。 After a moment； Mr。 Jingles found his feet again。 Slowly； so slowly； he nosed the spool back to me。 When he'd first e … I'd found him lying on the steps leading to the kitchen in just that same way； as if he'd travelled a long distance and was exhausted … he had still been able to guide the spool with his paws； as he had done all those years ago on the Green Mile。 That was beyond him； now； his hindquarters would no longer support him。 Yet his nose was as educated as ever。 He just had to go from one end of the spool to the other to keep it on course。 When he reached me； I picked him up in one hand … no more than a feather； he weighed … and the spool in the other。 His bright dark eyes never left it。
〃Don't do it again； Paul；〃 Elaine said in a broken voice。 〃I can't bear to watch him。〃
I understood how she felt； but thought she was wrong to ask it。 He loved chasing and fetching the spool； after all the years； he still loved it just as much。 We should all be so fortunate in our passions。
〃There are peppermint candies in the bag； too；〃 I said。 〃Canada Mints。 I think he still likes them … he won't stop sniffing； if I hold one out to him … but his digestion has gotten too bad to eat them。 I bring him toast； instead。〃
I squatted again； broke a small fragment off the piece I'd brought with me from the sunroom； and put it on the floor。 Mr。 Jingles sniffed at it； then picked it up in his paws and began to eat。 His tail was coiled neatly around him。 He finished； then looked expectantly up。
〃Sometimes us old fellas can surprise you with our appetites〃； I said to Elaine； and handed her the toast。 〃You try。〃
She broke off another fragment and dropped it on the floor。 Mr。 Jingles approached it； sniffed； looked at Elaine 。。。 then picked it up and began to eat。
〃You see？〃 I said。 〃He knows you're not a floater。
〃Where did he e from； Paul？〃
〃Haven't a clue。 One day when I went out for my early…morning walk； he was just here； lying on the kitchen steps。 I knew who he was right away； but I got a spool out of the laundry room occasional basket just to be sure。 And I got him a cigar box。 Lined it with the softest stuff I could find。 He's like us； Ellie； I think…most days just one big sore place。 Still； he hasn't lost all his zest for living。 He still likes his spool； and he still likes a visit from his old blockmate。 Sixty years I held the story of John Coffey inside me； sixty and more； and now I've told it。 I kind of had the idea that's why he came back。 To let me know I should hurry up and do it while there was still time。 Because I'm like him … getting there。〃
〃Getting where？〃
〃Oh； you know〃； I said； and we watched Mr。 Jingles for awhile in silence。 Then； for no reason I could tell you； I tossed the spool again； even though Elaine had asked me not to。 Maybe only because； in a way；
him chasing a spool was like old people having their slow and careful version of sex … you might not want to watch it； you who are young and convinced that； when it es to old age； an exception will be made in your case； but they still want to do it。
Mr。 Jingles set off after the rolling spool again； clearly with pain； and just as clearly （to me； at least） with all his old； obsessive enjoyment。
〃Ivy…glass windows；〃 she whispered； watching him go。
〃Ivy…glass windows；〃 I agreed； smiling。
〃John Coffey touched the mouse the way he touched you。 He didn't just make you better of what was wrong with you then； he made you 。。。 what； resistant？〃
〃That's as good a word as any； I think。〃
〃Resistant to the things that eventually bring the rest of us down like trees with termites in them。 You 。。。 and him。 Mr。 Jingles。 When he cupped Mr。 Jingles in his hands。〃
〃That's right。 Whatever power worked through John did that … that's what I think； anyway … and now it's finally wearing off。 The termites have chewed their way through our bark。 It took a little longer than it does ordinarily； but they got there。 I may have a few more years； men still live longer than mice； I guess； but Mr。 Jingles's time is just about up。〃
He reached the spool； limped around it； fell over on his side； breathing rapidly （we could see his respiration moving through his gray fur like ripples）； then got up and began to push it gamely back with his nose。 His fur was gray； his gait was unsteady； but the oilspots that were his eyes gleamed as brightly as ever。
〃You think he wanted you to write what you have written；'。； she said。 〃Is that so； Paul？〃
〃Not Mr。 Jingles；〃 I said。 〃Not him but the force that … 〃
〃Why； Paulie！ And Elaine Connelly； too！〃 a voice cried from the open door。 It was loaded with a kind of satiric horror。 〃As I live and breathe！ What in the goodness can you two be doing here？〃
I turned； not at all surprised to see Brad Dolan there in the doorway。 He was grinning as a man only does when he feels he's fooled you right good and proper。 How far down the road had he driven after his shift was over？ Maybe only as far as The Wrangler for a beer or two and maybe a lap…dance before ing back。
〃Get out；〃 Elaine said coldly。 〃Get out right now。'
〃Don't you tell me to get out； you wrinkledy old bitch；〃 he said； still smiling。 〃Maybe you can tell me that up the hill； but you ain't tip the hill now。 This ain't where you're supposed to be。 This is off…limits。 Little love…nest； Paulie？ Is that what you got here？ Kind of a Playboy pad for the geriatric。。。〃 His eyes widened as he at last saw the shed's tenant。 〃What the fuck？〃
I didn't turn to look。 I knew what was there； for one thing； for another； the past had suddenly doubled over the present； making one terrible image； three…dimensional in its reality。 It wasn't Brad Dolan standing there in the doorway but Percy Wetmore。 In another moment he would rush into the shed and crush Mr。 Jingles （who no longer had a hope of outrunning him） under his shoe； and this time there was no John Coffey to bring him back from the edge of death。 Any more than there had been a John Coffey when I needed him on that rainy day in Alabama。
I got to my feet； not feeling any ache in my joints or muscles this time； and rushed toward Dolan。 〃Leave him alone！〃 I yelled。 〃You leave him alone； Percy； or by God I'll 〃
〃Who you callin Percy？〃 he asked； and pushed me back so hard I almost fell over。 Elaine grabbed me； although it must have hurt her to do so； and steadied me。 〃Ain't the first time you done it； either。 And stop peein in your pants。 I ain't gonna touch im。 Don't need to。 That's one dead rodent。〃
I turned； thinking that Mr。 Jingles was only lying on his side to catch his breath； the way he sometimes did。 He was on his side； all right； but that rippling motion through his fur had stopped。 I tried to convince myself that I could still see it； and then Elaine burst into loud sobs。 She bent painfully； and picked up the mouse I had first seen on the Green Mile； ing up to the duty desk as fearlessly as a man approaching his peers 。。 。 or his friends。 He lay limp on her hand。 His eyes were dull and still。 He was dead。
Dolan grinned unpleasantly； revealing teeth which had had very little acquaintance with a dentist。 〃Aw； sakes； now！〃 he said。 〃Did we just lose the family pet？ Should we have a little funeral； with paper flowers and … 〃
〃SHUT up！〃 Elaine screamed at him；