As he replaced the tumbler on the table, Strout turned round.
"There was 'bout a spoonful left in the bottom of my tumbler," said
Abner, apologetically. "Them that drinks last drinks best," said he, as
he took up his lamp. "I guess that nightcap won't hurt me," he muttered
to himself as he stumbled up the flight of stairs that led to his room.
The fire burned brightly and Strout resumed his seat and drew the bottle
towards him. He lifted it up and looked at it.
"The skunk!" said he half aloud; "a man that'll steal rum will hook
money next. Wall, it won't be many days before that city chap will buy
his return ticket to Boston. Then I shan't have any further use for
Abner. Let me see," he soliloquized, "what I've got to do to-morrer? Git
the Deacon's money at ten, propose to Huldy 'bout half past, git home to
dinner at twelve, buy the grocery store 'bout quarter-past three;
that'll be a pretty good day's work!"
Then the Professor mixed up a nightcap for himself and was soon sleeping
soundly, regardless of the broad smile upon the face of the Man in the
Moon, who looked down upon the town with an expression that seemed to
indicate that he considered himself the biggest man in it.
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