At this Hannah, as in honor bound, became highly indignant, and
indulged in certain impertinences which I did not feel inclined to
notice.

But, as the oil was all gone, and no mistake; and, as the prospect
of sitting in darkness was not, by any means, an agreeable one--the
only remedy was to order another gallon.

Something was wrong; that was clear. The oil had never been burned.

That evening, myself and husband talked over the matter, and both of
us came to the conclusion, that it would never do. The evil must be
remedied. A gallon of oil must not again disappear in four days.

"Why," said my husband, "it ought to last us at least a week and a
half."

"Not quite so long," I replied. "We burn a gallon a week."

"Not fairly, I'm inclined to think. But four days is out of all
conscience."

I readily assented to this, adding some trite remark about the
unconscionable wastefulness of domestics.

On the next morning, as my husband arose from bed, he shivered in
the chilly air, saying, as he did so:

"That girl's let the fire go out again in the heater! Isn't it too
bad? This thing happens now every little while. I'm sure I've said