"Oh, a great deal, a great deal!" he exclaimed.
"Where is it? where do you keep it?" said I.
He started up again on his knees, again crossed his arms upon his breast, and said, "Where do I?"
Placing my hand on his heart, I said, "Is it not in there?"
His whole expression was affirmative, he looked delighted, but did not speak.
"Are you good?" said I.
"Sometimes," he said.
"What are you when you are not good?"
He had evidently been told it was naughty to cry.