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,--” [Illustration: “I UNDERSTAND NOW,” SAID THE LITTLE MOUSE, QUITE GENTLY. _Page 136._ ] “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.” THE FIFTH NIGHT “I’m a little late this evening,” purred Impty, as he rubbed up against Dolly the next night. “But the large yellow cat across the street is giving a Catnip Tea, and I simply _had_ to stay for one cup.” “I do hope that you’re going to tell me a pleasanter story this time,” said the little girl. “I dreamed all night long about that poor mouse.” “To-night,” said the black kitten, “I am going to tell you of Mother Michel, and the wonderful adventures of her cat, Moumouth. It is _very_ exciting, and it turns out beautifully in the end.” [Illustration: Mother Michel And Her Cat ] More than a hundred years ago there lived in Paris an old countess, Madame de la Grenouillière, a widow who had no children and who loved animals very dearly. But she was quite unfortunate, for none of her pets, no matter how much she loved or cared for them, ever lived. One by one they died, and, at last, the Countess decided that she would have no more. However, one day, as she was riding home in her chariot, she saw a crowd of children tormenting a poor street-cat. They had tied a sauce-pan to its tail, and goodness knows what would have happened if Madame had not put her head out of the window and called to them that whoever should bring the cat to her would be rewarded with a piece of gold.