Napoleon rose from his chair, but stopped halfway between sitting and standing for a farewell bite at his bread and butter.

“For mercy’s sake, why don’t you go along?” Mrs. Lively snapped out.  “What do you keep sitting there for?”

“Ain’t a-settin’,” responded Nappy, laying hold of his cup for a last swallow.

“Standing there, then?”

“Ain’t a-standin’.”

“If you don’t go along—­” and Mrs. Lively started for her son and heir with a threat in every inch of her.

“Am a-goin’,” returned the son and heir; and, sure enough, he went.

During this passage between mother and child Dr. Lively had been keeping up an unflagging by-play, searching persistently every part of the dining-room—­the mantelpiece, the clock, the cupboard, the shelves.

“In the name of common sense,” exclaimed the wife, after watching him a moment, “what’s the use of looking in that knife-basket?  Shouldn’t I have seen it when I set the table if it had been there?  Do you think I’m blind?  Where did you lose your purse?”

“If I knew where I lost it I’d go and get it.”

“Well, where did you have it when you missed it?”

“As well as I can remember I didn’t have it when I missed it.”

“Well, where did you have it before you missed it?”

“In my pocket.”

“Oh yes, this is a pretty time to joke, when my heart is breaking!  I shouldn’t be surprised to hear of your laughing at my grave.  Very well, if you won’t tell me where you’ve been with your purse, I can’t help you look for it; and what’s more, I won’t, and you’ll never find it unless I do, Dr. Lively:  I can tell you that.  You never were known to find anything.”

“Not there,” said Napoleon re-entering the room and reseating himself at the table.  “Milk, please,” he continued, extending his cup toward his mother.

“You ain’t going to eating again?” cried the lady.

“Am.”

“Where do you put it all?  I believe in my soul—­Are your legs hollow?”

“Dunno.”

“Do, my dear,” remonstrated Dr. Lively, “let the child eat all he wants.  You keep up an everlasting nagging, as though you begrudged him every mouthful he swallows.”

“Oh, it’s fine of you to talk, when you lose all the money that comes into the family—­five thousand dollars in Chicago, and sixty dollars now, for I’ll warrant you hadn’t paid out a cent of it; and all those accounts against us!  Had you paid any bills? had you?  You won’t answer, but you needn’t think to escape and deceive me by such a shallow trick.  If you’d paid a bill you’d been keen enough to tell it:  you’d have shouted it out long ago.  Pretty management!  Just like you, shiftless!  Why in the name of the five senses didn’t you pay out the money before you lost the purse?  You might have known you were going to lose it:  you always lose everything.”

“Bread, please,” called Napoleon, who had taken advantage of the confusion to sweep the bread-plate clean.