"That I won't," said the Miller, "not for fifty new tenants."
So the landlord sent for the constables, and he was carried out,
which is not a dignified way of changing one's residence. But then it
is not easy to be obstinate and dignified at the same time.
His wrath against the landlord knew no bounds.
"Was there ever such a brute?" he cried. "Would any man of spirit hold
his home at the whim of a landlord? I'll never rent another house as
long as I live."
"But you must live somewhere," said his friends.
"I won't," said the Miller.
He was no longer a young man, and the new tenant pitied him.
"The poor old fellow is out of his senses," he said. And he let him
sleep in one of his barns. One of the mill cats found out that there
was a new warm bed in this barn, and she came and lived there too, and
kept away the mice.
One night, however, Mrs. Pussy disturbed the Miller's rest. She was in
and out of the window constantly, and meowed horribly into the
bargain.
"It seems a man can't even sleep in peace," said the Miller. "If this
happens again, you'll go into the mill-race to sing to the fishes."
The next night the cat was still on the alert, and the following
morning the Miller tied a stone round her neck, and threw her into the
water.
"Oh, spare the poor thing, there's a good soul," said a bystander.
"I won't," said the Miller. "I told her what would happen."
When his back was turned, however, the bystander got Pussy out, and
took her home with him.
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