'Suppose it is not mine at all; supposing-- Ah, the scoundrels!'

And without listening to his wife and children, who were
frightened at his strange conduct and begged him to stay at home,
he ran across to the tavern and burst open the door.

'Can I do anything for you, Father Grumbler?' asked the
innkeeper's wife in her softest voice.

'I have taken the wrong basket--by mistake, of course,' said he.
'Here is yours, will you give me back my own?'

'Why, what are you talking about?' answered she. 'You can see
for yourself that there is no basket here.'

And though Father Grumbler DID look, it was quite true that none
was to be seen.

'Come, take a glass to warm you this cold day,' said the woman,
who was anxious to keep him in a good temper, and as this was an
invitation Father Grumbler never refused, he tossed it off and
left the house.

He took the road that led to the Holy Man's cave, and made such
haste that it was not long before he reached it.

'Who is there?' said a voice in answer to his knock.

'It is me, it is me, Holy man. You know quite well. Father