Once upon a time, a cat and a mouse made friends, and at last they grew to love each other very much, for the mouse was a clever little thing, and puss was as fine a cat as you could hope to see in a day’s journey. So they decided to marry, and live always in the same house, and be very comfortable indeed.
One day, during the summer, the cat said to his wife, “My dear, we must take care to lay in a store for the winter, or we shall die with hunger; you, little Mousey, cannot venture to go about anywhere for fear you should be caught in a trap, but I had better go and see about it.”
This good advice was followed, and in a few days Tom came safely back with a large jar full of beautiful meat covered with fat, which he had found. They had a long talk about a place in which to hide this treasure; but at last Tom said: “I don’t know a better place than the church. No one ever thinks of robbing a church; so if we place the jar under the altar, and take care not to touch it, then we shall have plenty to eat in the winter.”
The jar was carried to church, and put in a place of safety, but the meat did not stay there long.
Tom kept thinking of what was in the jar, and longing so much for a taste, that at last he made an excuse to get away from home.
“Mousey,” he said, one day, “I have had an invitation from one of my cousins to be present at the christening of her little son who was born a few weeks ago. He is a beautiful kitten, she tells me,—gray, with black stripes,—and my cousin wishes me to be godfather.”
“Oh, yes! Go, by all means,” replied the mouse. “But when you are enjoying yourself, think of me, and bring me a drop of the sweet, red wine if you can.” Tom promised to do as she asked him, and went off as if he were going to see his cousin. But after all it was not true. Tom had no cousin, nor had he been asked to be godfather.
No, he went right off to the church, and slipped under the table where the jar of meat stood, and sat looking at it. He did not look for long, however, for presently he went close up and began licking and licking the fat on the top of the jar, till it was nearly all gone. Then he took a walk on the roofs of the houses in the town, and finally stretched himself out in the sun, and stroked his whiskers as often as he thought of the delicious feast he had just had. As soon as the evening closed in, he returned home.
“Oh! Here you are again,” said the mouse. “Have you spent a pleasant day?”
“Yes, indeed,” he replied. “Everything passed off very well.”
“And what name did they give the young kitten?” she asked.
“Top-off,” said Tom, quite coolly.
“Top-off!” cried the mouse. “That is a curious and uncommon name! Is it a family name?”
“It is a very old name in our family,” replied the cat. “And it’s not worse than Thieves, as your ancestors were called.”
Poor little mousey made no reply, and for a while nothing more was said about Tom’s cousins.
But Tom could not forget the jar of meat in the church, and the thought of it made him long so much that he was obliged to make up another tale of a christening. So he told the little mouse, that a lady-cat, his aunt, had invited him this time, and that the kitten was a great beauty, all black, excepting a white ring around its neck, so he could not refuse to be present.
“For one day, dear Mousey, you will do me this kindness, and keep house at home alone?” he asked.
The good little mouse willingly agreed, and Tom ran off; but as soon as he reached the town, he jumped over the churchyard wall, and very quickly found his way to the place where the jar of meat was hidden. This time he feasted so greedily, that when he had finished, the jar was more than half empty.
“It tastes as nice as it smells,” said the cat, after his joyful day’s work was over and he had taken a nice nap. But as soon as he returned home, the mouse asked what name had been given to the kitten this time.
Tom was a little puzzled to know what to say, but at last he replied: “Ah! I remember now. They named it Half-Gone.”
“Half-Gone! Why, Tom, what a queer name! I never heard of it before in my life, and I am sure it cannot be found in the ‘Register.’”
The cat did not answer, and for a time all went on as usual, till another longing fit made him rub his whiskers and think of the jar of meat. “Mousey,” said he, one day, “of all good things there are always three; do you know I have had a third invitation to be godfather? And this time the little kitten is quite black, without a single white hair. Such a thing has not happened in our family for many years, so you will let me go, won’t you?”
“Top-Off and Half-Gone are such curious names, Tom,” replied the mouse, “that they are enough to make one suspicious.”
“Oh, nonsense!” said the cat. “What can you know about names, staying here at home all day long in your gray coat and soft fur, with nothing to do but catch crickets? You can know very little of what men do in the world.”
Poor little mousey was silent, and she patiently remained at home during the absence of the greedy, deceitful cat, who, this time, feasted himself till he had quite cleaned out the jar and left it empty.
“When all is gone, then one can rest,” said he to himself, as he returned home at night quite sleek and fat.
“Well, Tom,” said the mouse, as soon as she saw him, “and what is the name of this third child?”
“I hope you will be pleased at last,” he replied; “it is All-Gone.”
“All-Gone!” cried the mouse, “that is the most suspicious name yet; I can scarcely believe it. What does it mean?” Then she shook her head, rolled herself up, and went to sleep.
After this Tom was not invited to any more christenings; but as the winter came on, and in the night no provisions could be found, the mouse thought of the careful store they had laid up, and said to the cat, “Come, Tom, let us fetch the jar of meat from the church; it will be such a nice relish for us.”
“Ah, yes,” he replied. “It will be a fine relish to you, I dare say, when you stretch out your little tongue to taste it!” So he took himself out of the way, and mousey went to the church by herself. But what was her vexation at finding the jar still standing in the same place, but quite empty.
Then she returned home, and found Tom looking as if he did not care, although he was at first rather ashamed to face her.
“I understand now,” said the little mouse, quite gently. “I can see what has happened. A fine friend you have been to deceive me in this manner! When you told me you were going to stand godfather to the three little kittens, you never visited your relations at all; but, instead of that, you went to the church three times, and ate up all the meat in the jar. I know, now, what you meant by Top-Off, Half-Gone,—”
“Will you be quiet?” cried the cat, in a rage. “If you say another word, I will eat you.”
But the poor little mouse had got the name on the tip of her tongue when Tom interrupted her, and she could not stop herself. Out it came—“All-Gone!”
Tom, who only wanted an excuse to eat up his poor little wife, sprang upon her the minute she uttered the word, broke her back with his paw, and ate her up!
“Oh, Impty,” cried Dolly, as the story ended, “what a wicked cat! I hope you would never, never do such a thing! You wouldn’t would you?”
“No,” answered the kitten, yawning again, “I never should. In the first place, I’d not dream of marrying a mouse. I always eat ’em.”