By this time they were at home. Philip was unclasping his wife's cloak when Grace exclaimed suddenly:—
"There it is!"
"There what is?"
"That dreadful odor! Why, Phil, 'tis on your coat-sleeve! What, in the name of all that's mysterious—"
"That was my best coat in the city last winter, and I've never worn it here, except on Sundays."
"Then it must have taken the odor from some other garment in your closet."
Philip hurriedly brought his ordinary weekday coat to the sitting room, Grace moved it slowly, suspiciously, toward her nose, and soon exclaimed:—
"There it is—ugh! But what can it be?"
At that instant a well-known knock at the door announced Caleb, who had been invited to Sunday dinner.