"In the afternoon, when my mother called on our friend, she found Tom had dined there.

"After a time, this lady, remembering that she had brought me a book from her home, proposed going up to her trunk for it. Shortly after, she called my mother, who, with the lady of the house, went up to the attic where the trunks were kept. There they found Tom with two of the house cats seated on a huge trunk that had not been opened. The trunk bore marks of their claws, as scratches long and deep had torn and disfigured the leather.

"The scene was most laughable. Tom looked wise (nothing could embarra.s.s him), while the others looked sheepish. They could not be induced to leave their perch, and at last light dawned on the situation, when the friend said, 'Do you think Tom remembers that I promised him some fresh catmint from the country?' 'Undoubtedly,' said my mother; 'he not only remembers, but he smells it.'

"The catmint was soon produced, and they all had a feast. Tom wanted to stay and have a free fight after he had eaten his fill; but my mother let him see the large bag she carried home, and he followed her unwillingly. He knew where it was kept, and would go and mew before the closet door till he got his catmint. After it was gone, on seeing the empty bag, he went over to our friend's, and up to the trunk. Nothing would satisfy him but looking in and seeing it was empty.

"For some time he was cool to our friend, but after a few days, remembering perhaps that she might go home and get him more, he accepted her marks of affection with quiet dignity.

"Tom was very thoughtful. When told not to do certain things, he was very ready to obey. His master would say, 'Tom, did I not tell you never to get into my chair unless there is a covering on it?' and Tom would look as ashamed while the hairs were brushed off, and would avoid the chair for a long time, and once he was seen to pull the tidy down from the back, and sit on it. As it was lace, and he tore a hole in it, his thoughtfulness was appreciated only by his master.

"Tom was not a cat for every one to love. He had very little reverence in his composition. My father and mother," Miss Milly continued, "were very hospitable, and always at the church gatherings entertained all they could accommodate. Unlike the children of to-day, we were kept in the background.

"One of our guests was an old travelling preacher--'colporteur,' as he was called, since he carried about religious books for sale. There is no doubt he sold many, for buying a book was a more simple thing than arguing with him, his tongue being one of the most aggressive.

"Every morning the family were early called to prayers, kneeling down before chairs in the long room, having to remain in that position while this old man prayed for every one around, calling them by name. All fared alike. Though I do not believe he remembered our faces, he never forgot our names. My name, unfortunately, was taken from Shakespeare, and not from some heroine of religious fiction; and I suffered more when mine was called than my sister did, nearly all of the family having good Bible names that he enjoyed repeating. It is not necessary to say how long he lingered over it to impress its worldliness on his listeners. It was to me like opening a wound every morning.

"Tom, however, paid him for it. Perhaps he did not like his own name being left out. An additional cause for revenge, no doubt, was that when once he pa.s.sed the reverend gentleman, the humane Christian put out his foot, giving Tom a slight kick, and said, 'What a great beast!' This was enough to arouse Tom's ire, even if not mentioning him with the family had not been enough. So one morning Tom attended family prayers.

"Now this old man wore shoes tied with good strong strings, with little tags on the ends. Tom looked at them and saw his opportunity. Just in the middle of the prayer he pounced upon one of the long strings, giving a pull with his sharp, strong teeth that made the words in the mouth of his victim come out with a jerk.

"Of course Tom fled at the sound, and after a time the prayer continued.

Finally, just as we were hoping for the last clause, it came in the shape of Tom, who rushed out from under the sofa, and with one wrench untied the other shoe, while the amen came out with a bound. Then we had to listen to a long harangue on the sin of keeping animal pets where we could feed poor children.

"My father and mother listened respectfully, but made no promise of turning G.o.d's dumb creatures out to starve. My elder sister quoted to us:--

"'He prayeth best who loveth best All things, both great and small; For the dear G.o.d that loveth us, He made and loveth all.'

But then, the 'Ancient Mariner' himself could not have convinced this ancient bigot.

"Tom kept out of the way for some time, but we did not trust him. After untying his enemy's shoes, we were afraid he would attack his brown wig.

My mother every morning made sure he was out of the way before we went to prayers.

"How it happened, we never knew, but Tom outwitted her, and one morning, the last of the visitor's stay at our house, Tom made his mark, gaining a place in our memory never to be filled by any other cat.

"Just at the close of a long prayer Tom crept along stealthily toward the chair of his enemy. No one was in a position to see him; but when he crawled by the lounge where I was lying, I felt his presence, and my heart seemed to stand still, for I knew he was bent on mischief. I dared not move, and had to watch him with bated breath as he gained on his unconscious prey. Now his n.o.ble enemy never bowed his head in prayer, but, kneeling before a chair, his hands spread out, his eyes closed, his body swaying to and fro, presented a very undignified appearance.

"No doubt Tom thought so, for he walked around and faced him, looking in his face through the opening in the back of the chair for a long time.

Suddenly he made a grab (I think he intended to catch the fluttering end of the necktie), but just then the preacher lowered his head, and Tom's claws came down full on the bridge of his nose with such force that the words of the prayer were shouted in a manner suggesting profanity.

"All was confusion, as the enraged old man started to his feet, prayer and religion alike forgotten in his desire for revenge. Too late, however; for Tom rushed from the room, his tail up in the air, like a flag of victory. He did not appear again until all trace of our visitor was removed.

"Poor old man! He did look abject, with the blood dripping over the end of his nose, and tears of rage and pain in his eyes. Never did piety disappear so quickly as it did from this good old man, in view of his wrongs. One would have thought Tom possessed of human intelligence to hear him denounced. My sister said she believed he was sorry that Tom had no soul to be lost, thus to appease his wrath.

"My mother produced salve and some court-plaster and made him as comfortable as possible, but without receiving any thanks. He left us, very indignant that my father would not promise to have Tom killed. He refused to remain to breakfast, saying he would not take another meal in the house with that 'unG.o.dly cat.'

"As my father paid all his expenses, and my mother gave him new and warm clothing, he had no reason to be offended. My sister said he was a 'wolf in sheep's clothing,' and Tom knew it, and had been trying to protect us against him.

"Tom spent the night at a neighbor's, coming home the next day in a most amiable frame of mind and a very (for him) humble air. Instead of running to meet my father as usual, he kept in his corner, pretending to be asleep. No one spoke to him, and he bore it as long as he could; then he walked over to my father, and, putting a paw on each knee, looked up in his face with a piteous mew.

"Poor father could not bear that. His tender heart was touched, and he put his hand on Tom's head, saying, 'Oh, Tom, I am so sorry you are such a wicked boy!' but the tone a.s.sured Tom, who at once jumped up on my father's shoulder and kissed his face with delight.

"All through the long sermon preached to him of his sins he sat very quiet, and never once winked, but kept his wide-open, wise eyes on his master; at last he yawned two or three times, and then washed his face.

But peace was established.

"'What a character that man will give you, Tom, wherever he goes,' said my mother.

"Tom shook his head as if to say: 'Such is fame. I always wanted to be famous. Then, I love to etch, particularly on noses, and that was a good big one. I enjoyed it.'

"Poor Tom! I can hardly tell of his death even now, after so many years, without the swelling in my throat, to keep back the tears caused by deep sorrow for my pet.

"One night he went out and did not return till morning. The door of one of the outbuildings was left open for him to go in if he pleased, but he never came home till morning; then, as we learned from the servants, he went up to his den in the attic. At noon time he did not come down, and my sister went in search of him and found him dead.

"He was not in his nice little basket bed, of which he was very proud; but lay on some old relics, among the most noticeable of which was the old hat of Cousin Robert.

"He had been poisoned. His bright face was all green, and his brilliant eyes were gla.s.sy. We could not even rub and kiss his dear old nose as he liked us to, for drops had run down from his mouth and stained the beautiful fur coat we loved so well, and my mother said we must not touch him.

"Under the pile of things where he lay was an open map of the United States; he had trampled it down some time before. We often said he studied it when alone. Tom was closed up in this map, with a large rug outside, and buried in the river.

"How we mourned for him and how changed was that lovely river view to me! I could never have been consoled, had not a dear old lady said to me,--

"'Why do you mourn so for your precious pet?'

"'Ah,' I said, 'I shall never, never see him again.'

"'Why not?' she asked.

"'Because cats have no souls, no after life.'

"'My child,' she answered, 'G.o.d never gave us these dear, affectionate creatures to care for and then part with forever. You will have your dear Tom again where perfect happiness is secured by just such meetings.'

"I think she was right; and as good Dr. Watts so beautifully describes in that well-known Baptist hymn, 'Sweet Fields beyond the Swelling Flood,' there is no doubt there we shall find our faithful dumb friends.

"My father never recovered from Tom's loss. He would not take his accustomed place by the fire where Tom had been his companion for so many years, and he never made a pet of any of the many cats we had, though they were very bright ones.

"My dear good father! I have very little recollection of him, as he died while I was quite young. But I never remember him without Tom seated in all his glory by his side."

When Miss Milly had finished her story we were all subdued by the death of Tom; but then he had a happy life, so I just winked off my tears and hoped I should know him in heaven.

XX

HEADS AND TALES

I did not recover my cheerfulness after hearing the story of Tom, and Miss Eleanor said she hoped Miss Milly would never repeat it again.