“‘What is this?’ I asked.

“‘O, that is a barrel of whiskey that I have laid in also.’

“‘A barrel of whiskey!’ I said, in surprise.

“’Yes.  I did some work for Harry Arnold, and the best I could do was to take this barrel of good old ‘rye’ in payment.  But it is just as well.  It will be a saving in the end.’

“‘How so?’ I asked.

“’Why, because there are more than twice as many drams in this barrel of whiskey, as I could get for what I paid for it.  Of course, I save more than half.’

“’But have you taken into your calculation the fact, that, in consequence of having a barrel of whiskey so handy, you will drink about two glasses to one that you would want if you had to go down to Harry Arnold’s for it every time!’

“‘O yes, I have,’ Bradly replied.  ’But still I calculate on it being a saving, from the fact that I shall not lose so much time as I otherwise would do.  A great deal of time, you know, is wasted in these dram-shops.’

“’All true.  But have you never considered the danger arising from the habitual free use of liquor—­such a free use as the constant sight of a whole barrel of whiskey may induce you to make?’

“‘Danger!’ ejaculated Mr. Bradly in surprise.

“‘Yes, danger,’ I repeated.

“‘Of what?’ he asked.

“‘Of becoming too fond of liquor,’ I replied.

“‘I hope you do not wish to insult me in my own house, Mr. Malcom,’ the carpenter said, rather sternly.

“‘O no,’ I replied.  ’Of course I do not.  I only took the liberty that a friend feels entitled to use, to hint at what seemed to me a danger that you might be running into blindly.’

“Mrs. Bradly, who had gone through the house with us, enjoying my admiration of all their comfortable arrangements, seemed to dwell with particular interest on what I said in reference to the whiskey-barrel.  She was now leaning affectionately upon her husband’s arm—­her own drawn through his, and her hands clasped together—­looking up into his face with a tender and confiding regard.  I could not help noticing her manner, and the expression of her countenance.  And yet it seemed to me that something of concern was on her face, but so indistinct as to be scarcely visible.  Of this I was satisfied, when she said,

“’I don’t think there is much use in drinking liquor, do you, Mr. Malcom?’

“‘I cannot see that there is,’ I replied, of course.

“’Nor can I. Of one thing I think I am certain, and that is, that James would be just as comfortable and happy without it as with it.’

“‘You don’t know what you are talking about, Sally,’ her husband replied good-humouredly, for he was a man of excellent temper, and a little given to jesting.  ’But I suppose you thought it good for you last christmas, when you got boozy on egg-nog.’

“‘O James, how can you talk so!’ his wife exclaimed, her face reddening.  ‘You know that you served me a shameful trick then.’