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.