LITMIR.BIZ

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me, and kill me."

      "I didn't think you were such a coward, Mr. Hopkins," said his wife, contemptuously. When she indulged in severe sarcasm, she was accustomed to omit her husband's title.

      "I aint a coward, but I don't want to risk my life. It's a clear flyin' in the face of Providence. You'd ought to see that it is, Martha," said the deacon, reproachfully.

      "I don't see it. I see that you are frightened, that's what I see.

      Light the lamp, and I'll go up myself."

      "Well, Martha, it's better for you to go. They won't touch a woman."

      He lighted the lamp, and his wife departed on her errand. It might have been an unconscious action on the part of the deacon, but he locked the door after his wife.

      Mrs. Hopkins proceeded to the door of Sam's bed-chamber, and, as the door was unfastened, she entered. Of course he was still awake, but he pretended to be asleep.

      "Sam," said Mrs. Hopkins.

      There was a counterfeited snore.

      "Sam – say!"

      Sam took no notice.

      The lady took him by the shoulder, and shook him with no gentle hand, so that our hero was compelled to rouse himself.

      "What's up?" he asked, rubbing his eyes in apparent surprise.

      "I am," said Mrs. Hopkins, shortly, "and you have been."

      "I!" protested Sam, innocently. "Why, I was sound asleep when you came in. I don't know what's been goin on. Is it time to get up?"

      "What have you been doing downstairs?" demanded Mrs. Hopkins, sternly.

      "Who says I've been downstairs?" asked Sam.

      "I'm sure you have. I heard you."

      "It must have been somebody else."

      "There is no one else to go down. Neither the deacon nor myself has been down."

      "Likely it's thieves."

      But Mrs. Hopkins felt convinced, from Sam's manner, that he was the offender, and she determined to make him confess it.

      "Get up," she said, "and go down with me."

      "I'm sleepy," objected Sam.

      "So am I, but I mean to find out all about this matter."

      Sam jumped out of bed, and unwillingly accompanied Mrs. Hopkins downstairs. The latter stopped at her own chamber-door, and tried to open it.

      "Who's there?" asked the deacon, tremulously.

      "I am," said his wife, emphatically.

      "So you locked the door on your wife, did you, because you thought there was danger. It does you great credit, upon my word."

      "What have you found out?" asked her husband, evading the reproach.

      "Was it Sam that made all the noise?"

      "How could I," said Sam, "when I was fast asleep?"

      "I'm goin to take him down with me to see what mischief's done," said Mrs. Hopkins. "Do you want to go too?"

      The deacon, after a little hesitation, followed his more courageous spouse, at a safe distance, however, – and the three entered the kitchen, which had been the scene of Sam's noisy exploits. It showed traces of his presence in an overturned chair. Moreover, the closet-door was wide open, and broken pieces of crockery were scattered over the floor.

      A light dawned upon Mrs. Hopkins. She had solved the mystery!

      CHAPTER V.

      SAM COMBINES BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE

      "You came down after that pie," she said, turning upon Sam..

      "What pie?" asked Sam, looking guilty, however.

      "Don't ask me. You know well enough. You couldn't find it in the dark, and that's the way you came to make such a noise. Ten of my nice plates broken, too! What do you say to that, Deacon Hopkins?"

      "Samuel," said the deacon, "did you do this wicked thing?"

      A moment's reflection convinced Sam that it would be idle to deny it longer. The proofs of his guilt were too strong. He might have plead in his defence "emotional insanity," but he was not familiar with the course of justice in New York. He was, however, fertile in expedients, and thought of the next best thing.

      "Mebbe I walked in my sleep," he admitted.

      "Did you ever walk in your sleep?" asked the deacon, hastily.

      "Lots of times," said Sam.

      "It is rather strange you should go to the closet in your sleep," said Mrs. Hopkins, suspiciously. "I suppose, if you'd found it, you'd have eaten it in your sleep."

      "Likely I should," said Sam. "I was dreamin' of the pie. You know how to make pie, Mrs. Hopkins; I never tasted so good before."

      Mrs. Hopkins was not a soft woman, but she was proud of her cooking, and accessible to flattery on that subject. Sam could not have defended himself better.

      "That may be," she said, "about your walking in your sleep; but once is enough. Hereafter I'll lock your door on the outside. I can't be waked up every night, nor I can't have my plates broken."

      "S'pose the house should catch fire," suggested Sam, who didn't fancy being locked up in his room.

      "If it does, I'll come and let you out. The house is safer when you're safe in bed."

      "My wife is right, Samuel," said the deacon, recovering his dignity now that his fears were removed. "You must be locked in after to-night."

      Sam did not reply. On the whole, he felt glad to get off so well, after alarming the house so seriously.

      "Do you mean to stay downstairs all night, Deacon Hopkins?" demanded his wife, with uncalled-for asperity. "If so, I shall leave you to yourself."

      "I'm ready to go up when you are," said her husband. "I thought you mightn't feel like stayin' down here alone."

      "Much protection you'd be in time of danger, Mr. Hopkins, – you that locked the door on your wife, because you was afraid!"

      "I wasn't thinkin'," stammered the deacon.

      "Probably not," said his wife, in an incredulous tone. "Now go up.

      It's high time we were all in bed again."

      Sam was not called at as early an hour as the deacon intended. The worthy man, in consequence of his slumbers being interrupted, overslept himself, and it was seven o'clock when he called Sam.

      "Get up, Samuel," he said; "it's dreadful late, and you must be spry, or you won't catch up with the work."

      Work, however, was not prominent in Sam's mind, as his answer showed.

      "Is breakfast ready?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

      "It's most ready. Get right up, for it's time to go to work."

      "I 'spose we'll have breakfast first," said Sam.

      "If it's ready."

      Under these circumstances, Sam did not hurry. He did not care to work before breakfast, nor, for that matter, afterwards, if he could help it. So he made a leisurely, though not an elaborate toilet, and did not come down till Mrs. Hopkins called sharply up the attic stairs, "Come down, you Sam!"

      "All right, ma'am, I'm comin'," said Sam, who judged rightly that breakfast was ready.

      "We shan't often let you sleep so late," said Mrs. Hopkins, who sat behind the waiter. "We were broken of our rest through your cutting up last night, and so we overslept ourselves."

      "It's pretty early," said Sam.

      "We'd ought to have been at work in the field an hour ago," said the deacon.

      At the table Sam found work that suited him better.

      "You've got a good appetite," said Mrs. Hopkins, as Sam took the seventh slice of bread.

      "I most generally have," said Sam, with

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