"But you must live somewhere," said his friends.
"I won't," said the Miller.
He was no longer a young man, and the new tenant pitied him.
"The poor old fellow is out of his senses," he said. And he let him sleep in one of his barns. One of the mill cats found out that there was a new warm bed in this barn, and she came and lived there too, and kept away the mice.
One night, however, Mrs. Pussy disturbed the Miller's rest. She was in and out of the window constantly, and meowed horribly into the bargain.
"It seems a man can't even sleep in peace," said the Miller. "If this happens again, you'll go into the mill-race to sing to the fishes."
The next night the cat was still on the alert, and the following morning the Miller tied a stone round her neck, and threw her into the water.
"Oh, spare the poor thing, there's a good soul," said a bystander.
"I won't," said the Miller. "I told her what would happen."
When his back was turned, however, the bystander got Pussy out, and took her home with him.