“Here ’tis,” said Napoleon, suddenly appearing at the kitchen-door.

“Here what is?” demanded Mrs. Lively shortly, without looking up.  Her two hands were engaged—­one in pressing the cover on a can, the other in pouring wax where a bubble persistently appeared.

“This,” answered Napoleon.

“What?”

“Purse.”

“Purse!” she screamed.  “Is the money in it?” She dropped her work and took eager possession of it.  “Where did you find it?”

“Big apple tree,” replied Napoleon.

“Under the apple tree?”

“Fork,” was the lad’s emendation.

“Why in the name of sense do you have to bite off all your sentences?  They are like a chicken with its head off.  Do you mean to say that you found the purse in the fork of the big apple tree?”

“Do; and pipe.”

“Pipe! of course.  One might track your father through a howling wilderness by the pipes he’d leave at every half mile.  Don’t let him know you’ve found the purse, and to-morrow morning I’m going to see if I can’t have some of his bills paid before the money is lost, as it would be if he should get it in his hands.”

The next morning Mrs. Lively felt under her pillow, as on a former occasion, and, as on that former occasion, found the purse where she had put it the night before.  She gave it into Napoleon’s hands after breakfast, and despatched him to settle the bills.  In less than half an hour he was back.

“Did you pay all the bills?” she asked.

“No.”

“How many?”

“None.”

“Why don’t you go along and pay those bills, as I bade you?”

“Have been.”

“Then, why didn’t you settle the bills?”

“Couldn’t.”

“If you don’t tell me what’s the matter—­Why couldn’t you?”

“No money!”

“No money?  Where’s the purse?”

“Here ’tis;” and he handed it to her.

She opened it and found it empty.  “Where’s the money?” she demanded in great alarm.

“Dunno.”

“What did you do with it?”

“Nothin’.”

By dint of a few dozen more questions she arrived at the information that when he had opened the purse to pay the first bill he found it empty.

“Why didn’t you look on the floor?”

“Did look.”

“And feel in your pocket?”

“Did.”

“I suppose you couldn’t be satisfied till you’d opened the purse to count the money.  You’re a perfect Charity Cockloft with your curiosity.  And then you went off into one of your dreams, and forgot to clasp the purse.  Go look for it right at the spot where you counted the money.”

“Didn’t count it.”

“Well, where you opened the purse in the street.”

“Didn’t open it in the street.”

“The money just crawled out of the purse, did it?”

“Dunno.”

The house was searched, the store, the street, but all in vain.  Dr. Lively was questioned:  Did he take the money from the purse when it was under her pillow?  He didn’t even know before that the purse had been found.  The house had been everywhere securely fastened, and the bed-room door locked.