went to the church, straight up to the little pot, and licked the fat off the top; then he took a walk over the roofs of the town, saw his acquaintances, stretched himself in the sun, and licked his whiskers as often as he thought of the little pot of fat; and then when it was evening he went home.
"Here you are at last," said the mouse; "I expect you have had a merry time."
"Oh, pretty well," answered the cat.
"And what name did you give the child?" asked the mouse.
"Top-off," answered the cat, drily.
"Top-off!" cried the mouse, "that is a singular and wonderful name! is it common in your family?"
"What does it matter?" said the cat; "it's not any worse than Crumb-picker, like your god-child."
A little time after this the cat was again seized with a longing.
"Again I must ask you," said he to the mouse, "to do me a favour, and keep house alone for a day. I have been asked a second time to stand god-father; and as the little one has a white ring round its neck, I cannot well refuse."
So the kind little mouse consented, and the cat crept along by the town wall until he reached the church, and going straight to the little pot of fat, devoured half of it.
"Nothing tastes so well as what one keeps to oneself," said he, feeling quite content with his day's work. When he reached home, the mouse asked what name had been given to the child.
"Half-gone," answered the cat.
"Half-gone!" cried the mouse, "I never heard such a name in my life! I'll bet it's not to be found in the calendar."
Soon after that the cat's mouth began to water again for the fat.
"Good things always come in threes," said he to the mouse; "again I have been asked to stand god-father, the little one is quite black with white feet, and not any white hair on its body; such a thing does not happen every day, so you will let me go, won't you?"
"Top-off, Half-gone," murmured the mouse, "they are such curious names, I cannot but wonder at them!"
