Now, whilst Charlie had been giving his attention to the difficulties growing out of the games of marbles, he did not observe that one of the disputants was possessed of a tin kettle, in appearance very similar to his own, by the side of which, in the excitement of the moment, he deposited his own whilst giving a practical illustration of his view of the point under consideration.  Having accomplished this to his entire satisfaction, he resumed what he supposed was his kettle, and went his way rejoicing.

Now, if Caddy Ellis had a fondness for one dish more than any other, it was for haricot, with plenty of carrots; and knowing she was to have this for her dinner, she, to use her own pointed expression, “had laid herself out to have a good meal.”  She had even abstained from her customary lunch that she might have an appetite worthy of the occasion; and accordingly, long ere the dinner hour approached, she was hungry as a wolf.  Notwithstanding this fact, when Charlie made his appearance at the door, she insisted on his going through all the accustomed forms with the mat and scraper before entering the house; an act of self-sacrifice on her part entirely uncalled for, as the day was remarkably fine, and Charlie’s boots unusually clean.

He received two or three by no means gentle shoves and pokes as he entered, which he bore with unusual indifference, making not the slightest effort at retaliation, as was his usual practice.  The fact is, Charlie was, as lions are supposed to be, quite disinclined for a fight after a hearty meal, so he followed Caddy upstairs to the second story.  Here she had got up an extempore dining-table, by placing a pasting board across two chairs.  Seating herself upon a stool, she jerked off the lid of the kettle, and, to her horror and dismay, found not the favourite haricot, but a piece of cheese-rind, a crust of dry bread, and a cold potatoe.  Charlie, who was amusing himself by examining the flowers in the new carpet, did not observe the look of surprise and disgust that came over the countenance of his sister, as she took out, piece by piece, the remains of some schoolboy’s repast.

“Look here,” she at last burst forth, “do you call this my dinner?”

“Yes,” said Charlie, in a deliberate tone, “and a very good one too, I should say; if you can’t eat that dinner, you ought to starve; it’s one of mother’s best haricots.”  “You don’t call this cold potatoe and cheese-rind haricot, do you?” asked Caddy, angrily.

At this Charlie looked up, and saw before her the refuse scraps, which she had indignantly emptied upon the table.  He could scarcely believe his eyes; he got up and looked in the kettle, but found no haricot.  “Well,” said he, with surprise, “if that don’t beat me!  I saw mother fill it with haricot myself; I’m clean beat about it.”

“Tell me what you’ve done with it, then,” almost screamed the angry girl.

“I really don’t know what has become of it,” he answered, with a bewildered air.  “I saw—­I saw—­I—­I—­”