"Say," said the tanner, "will my Uncle Jean leave me his farm?"
"No," answered Tommie, winking his left eye. "That he won't! He knows you are always wishing he would die!"
The tanner was so angry that he snarled: "Don't you ever let me catch you around the tannery again, or I'll make you into a muff for my daughter."
"Black furs are not fashionable this winter," said Tommie. "Next?"
Everybody laughed when they saw that the tanner hadn't paid money for his information, and so, presumably, didn't like it. But strangely enough, instead of discouraging this led them on to try their luck; and the next person who came to ask Tommie a question was poor, old, half-blind Henley the miser. He put his mouth close to the cat's ear, so the people behind him wouldn't catch what he said, and in a hoarse voice he asked, "Say, old whiskers, will my fine ship loaded with dates and spices reach Norway safely?"
"Yes, it will," said Tommie, "long before your withered old soul will reach a haven of peace."
Henley was so excited over the first words that he didn't even hear the last ones. He hopped about on one leg, and was rushing off at last when Tommie cried, "Heigh-O, you haven't paid me!"
The miser felt in his pockets and drew out a silver coin and laid it on the handkerchief.
"Not at all," said Tommie. "Remember the Worth of that cargo! Gold or nothing."
Henley began to whine. "I'm a poor old man, Tommie. I'll leave the cream jug on the doorstep every day and no questions will be asked!"