"Yesterday you borrowed butter, and eggs, and sugar," I continued.
"I?" my neighbor seemed perfectly amazed.
"Yes; and the day before a loaf of bread—an egg to clear your coffee—salt, pepper, and a nutmeg."
"Never!"
"And to-day Nancy got some lard, a cup of coffee, and some Indian meal for a pudding."
"She did?" asked Mrs. Jordon in a quick voice, a light seeming to have flashed upon her mind.
"Yes," I replied, "for I was in the kitchen when she got the lard and meal, and Bridget mentioned the coffee as soon as I came down this morning."
"Strange!" Mrs. Jordon looked thoughtful. "It isn't a week since we got coffee, and I am sure our Indian meal cannot be out."
"Almost every week Nancy borrows a pound or a half pound of butter on the day before your butter man comes; and more than that, doesn't return it, or indeed anything she gets more than a third of the time."
"Precisely the complaint I have to make against you," said Mrs. Jordon, looking me steadily in the face.