The two men clinked their glasses, drank, and smacked their lips.
"If you don't go to bed now you won't git up till to-morrer," said the Professor.
"Yer mean ter-day," chuckled Abner, as he got up and walked 'round to the other side of the table, where he had left his lamp.
"I guess," remarked Strout, "I'll have some more fire. I ain't goin' to bed jest yet. I've got some heavy thinkin' to do."
While he was upon his knees arranging the wood, starting up the embers with the bellows, Abner reached across the table and got possession of his tumbler, from which he had fortunately removed the spoon. Grasping the bottle he filled it to the brim and tossed it down in three big swallows. 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.