Then he ran, and ran—and never knew what fate he escaped!
He hid in a turnip-field, where for a time he dragged out a wretched, half-starved existence. His lonely expeditions in company with Black had taught him to avoid the dwellings of mankind; and it was not until hunger conquered fear that he dared to enter the cottage.
His position as midwife’s cat suited “Terror” down to the ground—his complete inability to earn his own living excused him from rendering his mistress the slightest assistance!
Later on, the midwife discovered that she had a living barometer in the house—a fact which raised his value in her eyes enormously! She always consulted him before setting out on her duties.
As regards his humorous tendencies, they too came into their own—but not before a very painful accident occurred.
One day when the wind was playing with the outhouse door, “Terror” suddenly felt the door bite his tail! He whirled round immediately and let fly with his claws—that helped matters. The door opened its mouth and he was free!
But in spite of that, the tail still felt as if it were held fast; he ran round and round with a pain all over his body—and later on a red, swollen ring appeared round the appendage.
At last the tail-end withered away and fell off; and where the red ring had been, a tuft of hair sprouted over a black spot.
Tiny-kitten had become still tinier!
But his luxurious mode of living made his stomach fat and his body broad and short—which, taken in conjunction with his extra hairy ears and his stumpy tail, gave him a strong resemblance to a young lynx. The good midwife’s clients, who not infrequently suffered from the most frightful delusions, often mistook him for one in their excited state of mind....