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