"I guess not."
"Well, it's changed off somehow, and I've got to have something regular to go by. I'm going by what the almanac says; and if the moon's going to shuffle around kinder loose and not foller the almanac, that's its lookout. If the almanac says no moon, then I'm bound to light the lamps if there's millions of moons shining in the sky. Them's my orders, and I'll mind 'em."
"How d'you know the almanac is not wrong?"
"Because I know it ain't. It was always right before."
"Let's look at it."
"There it is. Look there, now. Don't it say full moon on the 20th? and this yer's only the 9th, and yet it's full moon now."
"That's so; and—Er—er—Less—see Er-er—Mr. Bones, do you know what year this almanac is for?"
"Why, 1876, of course."
"No, it isn't; it's for 1866. It's ten years old."
"Oh no! 1866! Well, now, it is. I declare! 1866! Why, merciful Moses! I got the wrong one off the shelf, and I've been depending on it for three months! No wonder the lamps was wrong. Well, that beats everything."