Just then I saw his face brighten up.
I followed the direction of his glance and saw it rested on a gallon jug.
Mac got up quietly and took the jug into the hallway.
He came back in ten seconds looking more mournful than ever.
"What's the matter, Mac," says I, "was the jug empty?"
"No," says he.
"Wasn't the wine good?" says I.
"It wasn't wine," says he.