matter."

Sam jumped out of bed, and unwillingly accompanied Mrs. Hopkins
downstairs. The latter stopped at her own chamber-door, and tried to
open it.

"Who's there?" asked the deacon, tremulously.

"I am," said his wife, emphatically.

"So you locked the door on your wife, did you, because you thought
there was danger. It does you great credit, upon my word."

"What have you found out?" asked her husband, evading the reproach.
"Was it Sam that made all the noise?"

"How could I," said Sam, "when I was fast asleep?"

"I'm goin to take him down with me to see what mischief's done," said
Mrs. Hopkins. "Do you want to go too?"

The deacon, after a little hesitation, followed his more courageous
spouse, at a safe distance, however,--and the three entered the
kitchen, which had been the scene of Sam's noisy exploits. It showed
traces of his presence in an overturned chair. Moreover, the
closet-door was wide open, and broken pieces of crockery were
scattered over the floor.

A light dawned upon Mrs. Hopkins. She had solved the mystery!

CHAPTER V.

SAM COMBINES BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE.

"You came down after that pie," she said, turning upon Sam..

"What pie?" asked Sam, looking guilty, however.

"Don't ask me. You know well enough. You couldn't find it in the dark,
and that's the way you came to make such a noise. Ten of my nice
plates broken, too! What do you say to that, Deacon Hopkins?"

"Samuel," said the deacon, "did you do this wicked thing?"

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