"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?"