or suffered them to be stolen by her gross negligence; or, he would add, for aught he knew, she had sold them and wasted the money; and in this way, he calculated, he should get rid of the whole difficulty.
Full of this notable device, the worthy man slunk into a copse adjoining the village, and there waited with terrible impatience for midnight to come, so that he might go and rob himself. As the clock struck twelve he left his hiding-place like a thief, scaled the low wall of his own yard, and went on tip-toe, and with a palpitating heart—for he trembled lest his wife should catch him at his tricks—across to the stable. Much to his wonder, he found the door open; but he was glad of the circumstance, as strengthening the case he proposed to make out against his poor wife. On entering the stable, however, he found everything at sixes and sevens; not a living creature was there, goat or kid. He was perfectly overwhelmed. Some thief had been beforehand with him. Misfortunes, says the proverb, never come singly. Seeing his last resource for replacing his lost stock in trade thus fail him, he lay down among the straw, plunged in the most bitter grief.
On her return home from the Priest’s, the active Lisa set to work, in the best possible humour, to make every preparation for giving her husband a
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