I think I shall send out and kill that rooster at the first opportunity. I want Keyser to have one thing less to fib about. He has too much variety at present.
During one of the cold spells of last winter the gas-meter in my cellar was frozen. I attempted to thaw it out by pouring hot water over it, but after spending an hour upon the effort I emerged from the contest with the meter with my feet and trousers wet, my hair full of dust and cobwebs and my temper at fever heat. After studying how I should get rid of the ice in the meter, I concluded to use force for the purpose, and so, seizing a hot poker, I jammed it through a vent-hole and stirred it around inside of the meter with a considerable amount of vigor. I felt the ice give way, and I heard the wheels buzz around with rather more vehemence than usual. Then I went up stairs.
I noticed for three or four days that the internal machinery of the meter seemed to be rattling around in a remarkable manner; it could be heard all over the house. But I was pleased to find that it was working again in spite of the cold weather, and I retained my serenity.
About two weeks afterward my gas bill came. It accused me of burning during the quarter about one million five hundred thousand feet of gas, and it called on me to settle to the extent of nearly three hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I put on my hat and went down to the gas-office. I addressed one of the clerks:
"How much gas did you make at the Blank works last quarter?"
"I dunno; about a million feet, I reckon."
"Well, you have charged me in my bill for burning half a million more than you made; I want you to correct it."
"Less see the bill. Hm--m--m! this is all right. It's taken off of the meter. That's what the meter says."
"S'pose'n it does; I _couldn't_ have burned more'n you made."
"Well, but how d'you account for the difference?"
"Dunno; 'tain't our business to go nosing and poking around after scientific truth. We depend on the meter. If that says you burned six million feet, why, you _must_ have burned it, even if we never made a foot of gas out at the works."
"To tell you the honest truth," said I, "the meter was frozen, and I stirred it up with a poker and set it whizzing around."