mrs meadows and her cat lived in a cottage down a crooked lane off the high road.
it was after midnight when the vicar, armed with a stout stick and a sack in which to hopefully capture the cat, ventured down the crooked lane. there was no moon, but there were tall trees coming together over his head, and in the darkness he could barely keep to the path.
suddenly the cottage was in front of him. there were no lights, as he had expected and hoped.
should he knock? he thought not. best to simply try the front door first. yes, that was a good plan.
feeling foolish, he crept to the front door. what is the point of “creeping” ? he wondered. in the unlikely event that there is anybody in the vicinity to see me, they will either see me or not.
stealthily he tried the knob of the cottage’s front door. yes, “stealthily”, he thought, how else would i turn it?
suddenly the vicar wondered, is this all worth it? just to restore the stained glass windows in the chapel into which a soul hardly ventures any more.
but he was captive to forces beyond his control, and in for a penny, in for a pound.
he turned the knob. the door opened, silently!
so far, so good. except that he could not see a thing in the dark interior of the cottage.
but he heard something.
a hiss - the hissing of a cat!
and there were the cat’s yellow eyes on the ground in front of him.
in a single motion he reached for the cat and seized it and stuffed it into his sack! the beast had been fatter and heavier than he had imagined it would be, but offered no resistance except a slight increase in his hissing. it had not even tried to scratch him.
quickly closing the door behind him, the vicar slung the sack with the cat in it over his shoulder and hurried back up the lane.
but he had not gone thirty meters when he heard a voice behind him…
“reverend, reverend sir, you forgot something…”
the vicar turned and to his amazement saw old mrs meadows stumping up the road to him on her cane!
with no thought of escaping, he could only say, “why , good evening, mrs meadows, whatever could i have forgotten?”
the old woman came up to him and held something out to him. an envelope.
“why, what can this be?’ the vicar asked.
“it is your instructions from lady molly as to your third task.”
“of course, of course.”
“you can give jeffrey back to me now,” mrs meadows said.
“jeffrey?”
“the cat. you accomplished lady molly’s second task by kidnapping him. so now you can give him back to me.”
“oh, yes, of course.” the vicar handed the sack with the cat in it to mrs meadows. he took the envelope from her and extracted a piece of paper from it.
“i am afraid i can’t read this,” he told mrs meadows. “it’s too dark.”
“the light will be better on the high road,” he told him. she slung the sack over her shoulder and turned to go. “good night, reverend.”
“good night. i hope jeffrey was not too inconvenienced by his little adventure.”
“oh, no, we were both expecting it.” and with that mrs meadows headed back to her cottage.
when the vicar made it back to the high road he took the piece of paper with lady moly’s instructions back out of his pocket.
but a sudden wind came along and blew it out of his hand and down the road.
the vicar never did accomplish his third task, or know what it was.
a week later, more unpleasantness broke out in the district, and a gang of thugs completely destroyed the chapel and smashed the stained glass windows to pieces.
years later, a couple of children were playing in the ruins of the chapel, and they found the piece of paper which had been blown out of the vicar’s hand, but the words on it had been worn away.
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