"About a dollar a gallon. I want it for antimonial wine."
"Yes; I have some just fit for that, and not much else, which I will sell at a dollar."
"Very well. Give me a gallon," said Mr. Smith. The demijohn was brought in from the wagon and filled. And then Mr. Smith drove off to attend to other business. Among the things to be done on that day, was to see a man who lived half a mile from Lancaster. Before going out on this errand, Mr. Smith stopped at the house of his particular friend, Mr. Jones. Mr. Jones happened not to be in, but Mrs. Jones was a pleasant woman, and he chatted with her for ten minutes, or so. As he stepped into his wagon, it struck him that the gallon demijohn was a little in his way, and so, lifting it out, he said to Mrs. Jones,
"I wish you would take care of this until I come back."
"O! certainly," replied Mrs. Jones, "with the greatest pleasure."
And so the demijohn was left in the lady's care.
Some time afterwards Mr. Jones came in, and among the first things that attracted his attention, was the strange demijohn.
"What is this?" was his natural inquiry.
"Something that Mr. Smith left."
"Mr. Smith from Q—?"