WHAT BECAME OF TOM?

New Zealand Graphic, Volume X, Issue 2, 14 January 1893, Page 47

WHAT BECAME OF TOM?

‘ I do wonder what has become of Tom ?’ exclaimed old lady Howels to her step son Dick, as she cleared the dishes from the supper-table one warm evening in December. Not being disposed to let the subject drop just then without farther effort to clear the mystery, turning to Dick, she continued, ‘ What do you suppose has become of him 1 He hasn’t been in the habit of remaining away so long at a time, and now, let me see, it must be over a week since I’ve seen him. I declare I’ve been so busy about other matters I’ve scarcely given it a thought, but, really, I’m beginning to feel quite concerned about him. Poor old Tom ! He seems almost like one of the family. Let’s see.’ And, hastily removing her glasses, she appeared as though determined to remove all obstacles from the path to poor Tom’s retreat by a vigorous application to the same of the right hand corner of her blue-checked gingham apron. Apparently satisfied as to the result, and once more adjusting her glasses and resuming the thread of her discourse, she remarked : ‘ Tom must be nigh on to ten years old. He was a wee mite of a kit when Hatty was a ’ but the sentence remained unfinished, as, on looking around, she discovered Dick in the act of climbing the old rail fence that separated the house from the barn, evidently anxious to avoid further questioning on the subject. Happy in the belief that Dick, naturally tender-hearted, had gone to seek the estrayed or stolen Tom, and would naturally find him, she concluded to let the subject drop for the present, only to resume it a day or two after when it again occurred to her that ‘ poor Tom ’ must be hungry. He had been regularly fed all these years, partly as a recompense for his untiring vigilance in his youth, as not a rat or mouse was seen about the premises. The * Hatty,’ alluded to was Dick’s only sister, and, although there was considerable difference in their ages, yet between them usually existed a strong bond of unity and sympathy. Although only a half-sister, she was one in whom Dick placed the utmost confidence, and to whom he imparted his most cherished secrets. While deeply regretting the loss of Tom, Hatty had solemnly promised not to betray Dick’s confidence, and was trying very hard to keep her promise, anxious to avoid the consequence of a disclosure.

Time passed, and Tom’s whereabouts was apparently as much a mystery as ever. To all inquiries Dick either turned a deaf ear or an evasive answer, such as, ‘Oh ! he’s all right. What’s the use of worrying about a cat ’ He’s no good, anyway ; always mewing around. I’ll get you another, just as good,’ etc., and with these and similar remarks and promises, Dick tried to ward oil’ difficulties, hoping time would banish all thought of Tom, or he might be able to fulfil his promise by getting another ‘just as good,’ yet, at times manifesting no little anxiety for fear the secret would be discovered ; for secret there surely was. Vacation was at hand, and being • quite a boy,’ Dick was desirous of making a good record for himself on the last day of school, and had been unusually busy for some time preparing for it; but, as he was usually studious, it created no comment or suspicion that anything unusual bad happened. In the meantime Mrs Howels was now and then heard to remark, ‘ Poor Tom ! ’tis strange ! Ido wonder what has become of him !’

School was now closed for the summer, with nothing to mark the change excepting a perceptible increase in the number of children on the street, passing and repassing at all hours of the day. The following week, after adjusting her glasses to look over the Town Weekly, what was it that held Mrs Howels spellbound for a moment and sent the blood coursing through her veins, while the paper dropped from her trembling hands to the floor at her feet ! Why, there ! in the city news column, in the notes on commencementday exercises, among the competitors for prizes, was a most familiar name appended to the notice, which read thus : ‘ For best specimen in natural history—Cat’s Head ! first prize awarded to Dick Howels. ’ It is unnecessary to add that when Dick made his appearance, there happened that which somewhat resembled a miniature cyclone, which might prove a salutary warning against similar offences.

‘ The prize was but poor recompense for the loss of “ poor Tom,” ’ thought Mrs Howe's, while Dick solaced himself with the remark, ‘ He was no good anyway ; always mewing around, but, my ! wasn’t his skull a beauty I’