"All was confusion, as the enraged old man started to his feet, prayer and religion alike forgotten in his desire for revenge. Too late, however; for Tom rushed from the room, his tail up in the air, like a flag of victory. He did not appear again until all trace of our visitor was removed.
"Poor old man! He did look abject, with the blood dripping over the end of his nose, and tears of rage and pain in his eyes. Never did piety disappear so quickly as it did from this good old man, in view of his wrongs. One would have thought Tom possessed of human intelligence to hear him denounced. My sister said she believed he was sorry that Tom had no soul to be lost, thus to appease his wrath.
"My mother produced salve and some court-plaster and made him as comfortable as possible, but without receiving any thanks. He left us, very indignant that my father would not promise to have Tom killed. He refused to remain to breakfast, saying he would not take another meal in the house with that 'ungodly cat.'
"As my father paid all his expenses, and my mother gave him new and warm clothing, he had no reason to be offended. My sister said he was a 'wolf in sheep's clothing,' and Tom knew it, and had been trying to protect us against him.
"Tom spent the night at a neighbor's, coming home the next day in a most amiable frame of mind and a very (for him) humble air. Instead of running to meet my father as usual, he kept in his corner, pretending to be asleep. No one spoke to him, and he bore it as long as he could; then he walked over to my father, and, putting a paw on each knee, looked up in his face with a piteous mew.
"Poor father could not bear that. His tender heart was touched, and he put his hand on Tom's head, saying, 'Oh, Tom, I am so sorry you are such a wicked boy!' but the tone assured Tom, who at once jumped up on my father's shoulder and kissed his face with delight.
"All through the long sermon preached to him of his sins he sat very quiet, and never once winked, but kept his wide-open, wise eyes on his master; at last he yawned two or three times, and then washed his face. But peace was established.
"'What a character that man will give you, Tom, wherever he goes,' said my mother.
"Tom shook his head as if to say: 'Such is fame. I always wanted to be famous. Then, I love to etch, particularly on noses, and that was a good big one. I enjoyed it.'
"Poor Tom! I can hardly tell of his death even now, after so many years, without the swelling in my throat, to keep back the tears caused by deep sorrow for my pet.