CHAPTER IV.

CARLO AND THE FREEZER.


We had a jolly time at our tea-table this evening. We had not seen our old
friend for ten years. When I heard his voice in the hall, it seemed like a
snatch of "Auld Lang Syne." He came from Belleville, where was the first
home we ever set up for ourselves. It was a stormy evening, and we did not
expect company, but we soon made way for him at the table. Jennie was very
willing to stand up at the corner; and after a fair napkin had been thrown
over the place where she had dropped a speck of jelly, our friend and I
began the rehearsal of other days. While I was alluding to a circumstance
that occurred between me and one of my Belleville neighbors the children
cried out with stentorian voice, "Tell us about Carlo and the freezer;" and
they kicked the leg of the table, and beat with both hands, and clattered
the knives on the plate, until I was compelled to shout, "Silence! You act
like a band of Arabs! Frank, you had better swallow what you have in your
mouth before you attempt to talk." Order having been gained, I began:

We sat in the country parsonage, on a cold winter day, looking out of our
back window toward the house of a neighbor. She was a model of kindness,
and a most convenient neighbor to have. It was a rule between us that when
either house was in want of anything it should borrow of the other. The
rule worked well for the parsonage, but rather badly for the neighbor,
because on our side of the fence we had just begun to keep house, and
needed to borrow everything, while we had nothing to lend, except a few