But the poor deacon couldn't rest. That night he thought he could hear
that cat mewing at him all the time. He remembered that he had not seen
Tom for some days. What if he was dying? It was a long night. The deacon
at last got to thinking of the touching and wonderful Parable of the
Prodigal. And then in the stillness he thought he could hear something in
his heart mewing at him.
At last daylight came, and he hastened to find Tom in a wretched garret
racked with disease. He brought him home tenderly, and Tom got well both
in his body and in his soul.
The Chicken Little Stories.
SIMON AND THE GARULY.
Chicken Little fixed herself up in her new rocking-chair, set her mouth
in a very prim fashion, leaned her head on one side, and began to rock
with all her might, jerking her feet from the floor every time.
"I yish," she began, "I yish somebody yould tell some stories yat yould
be little for me to hear."
And having made this speech, which was meant as a hint for me, she rocked
harder than ever, nearly upsetting herself two or three times.
"What shall it be about?" I said.
"'Bout some naughty boy or 'nother."
She likes to hear of naughty boys, but not of naughty girls.
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