t time you come," she said to the wee, wiry,
widow woman.

And so when the wee, weird Widow Wiggins came again, the wonderful cat
followed her and lay down by the stove. Soon after the deacon came in,
looking very sad but very stern.

"Did you see Tom?" asked his wife.

"No, I didn't," said the deacon, "and I don't want to."

"Mew!" said the cat.

The deacon noticed the cat, and got a little red in the face; but he went
on talking.

"I tell you what, wife, Tom has made his bed and he must lie on it,
that's all!"

"Mew! mew! mew!"

"I can't break my word anyhow; I said he shouldn't come back, and he
shan't; so now there's no use in pining yourself to death over a
scapegrace."

"Mew! mew! mew! m-e-e-o-w!" shrieked the cat, with every bristle on end,
and her claws scratching the floor.

"Mrs. Wiggins, I wish you would keep that miserable cat at home," said
the deacon; and so the wee widow woman took up the wonderful cat and
carried it home.

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. She thinks
stories of naughty girls are a little personal. And so, with her chair
going and her shining eyes peering out from under her overhanging
forehead, I began

_THE STORY._

Simon was a sel