entering at his garden gate, passed up the gravel walk, which looked
very white in the moonlight, mounted the stone steps of his fine
house and pausing a moment inserted his latchkey in the door. As he
pushed this open he met his wife, who was crossing the passage from
the parlor to the library. She greeted him pleasantly and pulling
the door further back held it for him to enter. Instead he turned
and, looking about his feet in front of the threshold, uttered an
exclamation of surprise.

"Why!--what the devil," he said, "has become of that jug?"

"What jug, Alvan?" his wife inquired, not very sympathetically.

"A jug of maple sirup--I brought it along from the store and set it
down here to open the door. What the--"

"There, there, Alvan, please don't swear again," said the lady,
interrupting. Hillbrook, by the way, is not the only place in
Christendom where a vestigial polytheism forbids the taking in vain
of the Evil One's name.

The jug of maple sirup which the easy ways of village life had
permitted Hillbrook's foremost citizen to carry home from the store
was not there.

"Are you quite sure, Alvan?"

"My dear, do you suppose a man does not know when he is carrying a
jug? I bought that sirup at Deemer's as I was passing. Deemer
himself drew it and lent me the jug, and I--"