“Pap laid quiet at first, he was so scared, tremblin’ all over, with his teeth chatterin’ to beat all. Sudden Ed stopped right under the lantern an’ set the bucket down, the wotter splashin’ over the side an’ goin’ up in a fog ’hen it struck the floor. Then he straightened up like to stretch his back, an’ raised his hands to his mouth an’ begin to blow on ’em. Pap didn’t hear no sound but he seen the lamp flickerin’; an’ at the sight o’ Ed standin’ there so nat’ral his courage come back. “After the ghos’ hed stopped a minute his face twisted like he was groanin’, an’ he picked up the bucket an’ started on toward the sugar bawrel. ’Hen Pap seen that, he clean forgot it was a sperrit, it looked so lifelike. He jumped up an’ run out yellin’, ‘Here you, Ed Harmon, don’t you dast put that wotter on my sugar!’ “The ghos’ stopped, turned ’round an’ looked at Pap. Pap stopped an’ looked at the ghos’. The appyrition set the bucket down easy an’ blowed on his hands. That kind o’ cooled the ole man. “‘You uns ain’t ben treatin’ me right,’ sais Pap, polite like, ‘dampin’ my sugar an’ sp’ilin’ my trade.’ “Ed didn’t say nawthin’, but jest looked at him quiet like an’ give his comforter another lap ’round the neck. “‘Now, see here,’ sais Pap, a leetle louder. ‘I’ve found you out, Ed Harmon, an’ I’ll make it pretty hot fer you ’round these parts ef you don’t let up.’ “The sperrit turned proud like, blowed on its hands, leaned over an’ picked up the bucket, an’ started trampin’ toward the bawrel agin. Pap clean forgot hisself. He give a run an’ a kick at the pail, for he’d no desires to hurt the ole man, but ’tended jest to spill the wotter. He near dropped dead on the spot, fer his feet went right inter it ’thout his feelin’ it; the ole thing broke in a dozen pieces, the staves fallin’ in a heap on the floor; the wotter ’rose up in a fog like, an’ fer an instant he could see nawthin’. It cleared away an’ he noticed one o’ the hoops rollin’ off inter the dark. He made a run fer it an’ grabbed at it, but his hand went right up th’oo it. He th’owed his arm out, thinkin’ to ketch it that ’ay. Ez he looked up he seen the ole hoop revolvin’ there in the air above him. He give a wild jump at it. His hand struck the lantern an’ knocked it off the nail. They was a loud crash ez the glass broke. What happened after that he didn’t know. I found him sleepin’ on the pile o’ sacks next mornin’.” “Sights!” cried the Chronic Loafer. He drew his chair closer into the circle, which by this time had reached the smallest possible circumference. The Tinsmith glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder toward the dark corner where lay the entrance to the store-room. “It do beat all,” he said. From the mountains there came the low reverberation of thunder. The storm had passed the valley and now the rain was falling lightly and the breeze was dying. “Was the sugar wet next day?” asked the Miller, nervously biting the end off the stem of his clay pipe.