Chúrgoro, who was very generous, and who wished all the world to be as fortunate as himself, told the whole story to Gizæmon. Immediately the miser asked that Tamá should be lent to him, that he might once more catch the King of the Field-Mice. The gardener willingly agreed, and Gizæmon took Tamá, and started across the fields, with the cat trotting at his heels. All of a sudden, Tamá darted swiftly away, and came bounding back over the grass with something in his mouth. It was the King of the Field-Mice again! Gizæmon set him free, and--for he was very ungrateful--drove Tamá harshly away. The mouse thanked the rich man as he had Chúgoro, and, in the same way, begged him to come that night to the door of his Palace. The miser’s heart swelled with pride and vanity. “Now,” thought he, “I will be richer than my neighbor, for all that the Field-Mouse gives me, and all that I have myself, will be mine.” He could hardly wait for the sun to set, he was so anxious to gather up his riches. The King met him at the doorway, and touched him with his paw. Like Chúgoro, he grew smaller and smaller until he could follow the King down the little winding passage. When the banquet hall was reached, he was seated at the King’s right hand, and served with all sorts of delicious food; but the greedy man looked around instead of eating, and, as he saw how many fine things there were in the room, and, as he heard the little kitchen mice singing away, as they pounded:-- Ton, ton! Neko sai oraneba, Nezumi no yo zakare. Ton, ton! he thought, “What a fine thing it would be for me if I could make these mice believe that a Cat _was_ here! Then they would run away, and all these riches would be mine!” So he called out in a loud voice, “Miaou! Miaou! Miaou!” and the little, frightened mice fled away in a tremble. Gizæmon was beginning to gather up the gold and silver dishes, when, all at once, he found he was growing taller and taller and taller. He ran to the door, but he was much too large to get out. He dropped all his stolen riches, but he kept on growing bigger and bigger and bigger until he grew right up in the field like a potato, and a farmer who was digging there cracked his head with a hoe. And so his greediness and ingratitude were rewarded, but as for Chúgoro Yamakawa and his wife Ino-yo San, they lived with Tamá, their cat, happy for ever and ever afterwards, as you say. * * * * * “But I _do_ think,” Impty added, as he jumped down from the bed, and went to hide under the arm-chair, “I do _really_ think that Tamá was a wonderful cat not to have eaten the field-mouse that last time. I’m afraid _I_ should.” THE THIRD NIGHT Impty came dancing out of his hiding-place as soon as the sound of Miss Jane’s footsteps died away on the stair. “‘Pussy Cat, Pussy Cat, where have you been?’” cried the little girl gayly.