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More than a year passed, during which time Gooding made many fruitless attempts to get something out of Jenkins, who was always on the best terms with him, but put him off with fair promises, that were never kept. These promises were never made in the presence of a third person, and might, therefore, have just as well been made to the wind, so far as their binding force was concerned. Things grew worse and worse with Gooding, and he became poorer every day, while the condition of Jenkins as steadily improved.

One rainy afternoon, Gooding drove up to the store of his old friend, about half an hour earlier than he usually left for home. Jenkins was standing in the door.

“As it is raining, I thought I would call round for you,” he said, as he drew up his horse.

“Very much obliged to you, indeed,” returned Jenkins, quite well pleased. “Stop a moment, until I lock up my desk, and then I will be with you.”

In a minute or two Jenkins came out, and stepped lightly into the wagon.

“It is kind in you, really, to call for me,” he said, as the wagon moved briskly away. “I was just thinking that I should have to get a carriage.”

“It is no trouble to me at all,” returned Gooding, “and if it were, the pleasure of doing a friend a kindness would fully repay it.”

“You smell strong of whisky here,” said Jenkins, after they had ridden a little way, turning his eyes toward the back part of the wagon as he spoke. “What have you here?”

“An empty whisky-hogshead. This rain put me in mind of doing what my wife has been teasing me to do for the last six months–get her a rain-barrel. I tried to get an old oil-cask, but couldn’t find one. They make the best rain-barrels. Just burn them out with a flash of good dry shavings, and they are clear from all oily impurities, and tight as a drum.”

“Indeed! I never thought of that. I must look out for one, for our old rain-hogshead is about tumbling to pieces.”

From rain-barrels the conversation turned upon business, and at length Gooding brought up the old story, and urged the settlement of his claim as a matter of charity.

“You don’t know how much I need it,” he said. “Necessity alone compels me to press the claim upon your attention.”

“It is hard, I know, and I am very sorry for you,” Jenkins replied. “Next week, I will certainly pay you fifty dollars.”

“I shall be very thankful. How soon after do you think you will be able to let me have the balance of the three hundred due me. Say as early as possible.”

“Within three months, at least, I hope,” replied Jenkins.

“Harry! Do you hear that?” said Gooding, turning his head toward the back part of the wagon, and speaking in a quick, elated manner.

“Oh, ay!” came ringing from the bunghole of the whisky-hogshead.

“Who the dickens is that?” exclaimed Jenkins, turning quickly round.

“No one,” replied Gooding, with a quiet smile, “but my clerk, Harry Williams.”

“Where?”

“Here,” replied the individual named, pushing himself up through the loose head of the upright hogshead, and looking into the face of the discomfited Jenkins, with a broad smile of satisfaction upon his always humorous phiz.

“Whoa, Charley,” said Gooding, at this moment reining up his horse before the house of Jenkins.

The latter stepped out, with his eyes upon the ground, and stood with his hand upon the wagon, in thought, for some moments; then looking up, he said, while the humour of the whole thing pressed itself so full upon him, that he could not help smiling,

“See here, Gooding, if both you and Harry will promise me never to say a word about this confounded trick, I will give you a check for three hundred dollars on the spot.”

“No, I must have four hundred and twenty-six dollars, the principal and interest. Nothing less,” returned Gooding firmly. “You have acknowledged the debt in the presence of Mr. Williams, and if it is not paid by to-morrow twelve o’clock, I shall commence suit against you. If I receive the money before that time, we will keep this little matter quiet; if suit is brought, all will come out on the trial.”

“As you please,” said Jenkins angrily, turning away, and entering his house.

Before twelve o’clock on the next day, however, Jenkins’s clerk called in at the store of Gooding, and paid him four hundred and twenty-six dollars, for which he took his receipt in full for all demands to date. The two men were never afterward on terms of sufficient intimacy to ride in the same wagon together. Whether Gooding and his clerk kept the matter a secret, as they promised, we don’t know. It is very certain, that it was known all over town in less than a week, and soon after was told in the newspapers, as a most capital joke.