In another house in the village, however, there was weeping and wailing, and that too in the best of all. In the Parsonage the maid sat in the kitchen, crying bitterly: "The fine fat goose, which was to have been roasted this very day, and it was the very thing for such a welcome guest: such a lovely bird, and so well frozen by hanging outside the window! and now in all the confusion last night, it has been stolen. I am sure it ought to choke those who were so wicked as to steal from the Pastor; and how like an angel he spoke to them, and thanked them for what they had done--and now they play him such a trick as this! He ought to bring it into his sermon today, and preach to them on an appropriate text; and the first man that coughs, has stolen the goose, I will go through the whole village, to spy out who has got my goose. I will find out whether the fox, the wolf, a dog, a weasel, or a raven has stolen it; but more likely far some wicked wretch, intending to roast it. I am resolved to get it back; we have really nothing for dinner to-day." These, and many other lamentations were poured forth amid bitter tears, and scolding, and execrations, by the maid in the kitchen, till at last the Pastor came into the kitchen, saying, "What is going on here?" The fact was duly detailed to him, and, as a proof of her assertion, the maid pointed out the empty hook on which the goose had hung outside the window. "The hook is still there, but the goose is gone," said the girl, sobbing, and laying hold of the hook, as if she thought it the very thing to hang the thief upon. Brother Edward also came in, and the maid begged him to oblige her by looking at the hook. The Pastor turning to his brother-in-law, said, "It is often thus; just the very last delicate morsel, carefully cherished, falls on the floor, when it is actually stuck on your fork." "And you are positively making a jest of it!" said the Pastorin to her husband; "you men never seem to have any idea of the great difficulty of preparing a good dinner in the country, and how pleasant it is when all is prepared; and it seemed quite a happy chance that my mother sent me some chesnuts." "I am not making a jest of it; on the contrary, it is very annoying to me." "The greatest annoyance to you is, assuredly, that any person here is capable of being a thief. They cannot, however, enjoy the fruits of their theft, I feel sure," interrupted Edward. "By no means: I am so material in my nature, that I should have liked excessively to have myself enjoyed a fine, well browned, crisp, roast goose;--and as for the thief? If the goose had been stolen from any one else, the man would have equally been a thief, but it would vex me less than now, when I have lost my own goose and the giblets too."