A moment's reflection convinced Sam that it would be idle to deny it longer. The proofs of his guilt were too strong. He might have plead in his defence "emotional insanity," but he was not familiar with the course of justice in New York. He was, however, fertile in expedients, and thought of the next best thing. "Mebbe I walked in my sleep," he admitted. "Did you ever walk in your sleep?" asked the deacon, hastily. "Lots of times," said Sam. "It is rather strange you should go to the closet in your sleep," said Mrs. Hopkins, suspiciously. "I suppose, if you'd found it, you'd have eaten it in your sleep." "Likely I should," said Sam. "I was dreamin' of the pie. You know how to make pie, Mrs. Hopkins; I never tasted so good before." Mrs. Hopkins was not a soft woman, but she was proud of her cooking, and accessible to flattery on that subject. Sam could not have defended himself better. "That may be," she said, "about your walking in your sleep; but once is enough. Hereafter I'll lock your door on the outside. I can't be waked up every night, nor I can't have my plates broken." "S'pose the house should catch fire," suggested Sam, who didn't fancy being locked up in his room. "If it does, I'll come and let you out. The house is safer when you're safe in bed." "My wife is right, Samuel," said the deacon, recovering his dignity now that his fears were removed. "You must be locked in after to-night." Sam did not reply. On the whole, he felt glad to get off so well, after alarming the house so seriously. "Do you mean to stay downstairs all night, Deacon Hopkins?" demanded his wife, with uncalled-for asperity. "If so, I shall leave you to yourself." "I'm ready to go up when you are," said her husband. "I thought you mightn't feel like stayin' down here alone." "Much protection you'd be in time of danger, Mr. Hopkins,--you that locked the door on your wife, because you was afraid!" "I wasn't thinkin'," stammered the deacon. "Probably not," said his wife, in an incredulous tone. "Now go up. It's high time we were all in bed again." Sam was not called at as early an hour as the deacon intended. The worthy man, in consequence of his slumbers being interrupted, overslept himself, and it was seven o'clock when he called Sam. "Get up, Samuel," he said; "it's dreadful late, and you must be spry, or you won't catch up with the work." Work, however, was not prominent in Sam's mind, as his answer showed. "Is breakfast ready?" he asked, rubbing his eyes. "It's most ready. Get right up, for it's time to go to work." "I 'spose we'll have breakfast first," said Sam. "If it's ready." Under these circumstances, Sam did not hurry. He did not care to work before breakfast, nor, for that matter, afterwards, if he could help it. So he made a leisurely, though not an elaborate toilet, and did not come down till Mrs. Hopkins called sharply up the attic stairs, "Come down, you Sam!"