"What was in the jug, Mac?" says I.
He gave me a sheepish, sidelong glance and says:
"Water."
Mac is a boss carpenter.
The other day he called his assistant and says:
"Here, Jim, I'm going out for a few minutes and you can plane down this beam until I return."
He pointed to a big beam about eighteen inches square.
But, alas! when poor Mac got out on the street, he slipped and sprained his ankle.
They took him home and it was the next day, toward evening, before he could hobble around to his shop.