"Bitter?" asked Napoleon.
"Bitter! of course it's bitter—bitter as tansy. It sends the chills creeping up and down my backbone, and the top of my head feels as if it was crawling off. I believe I shall lose my scalp if I don't use sugar."
"To stick it on?" asked Napoleon with a stolid face.
"Oh, it's beautiful in my only child to laugh at a mother's discomfort!" "Ain't a-laughin'," he replied.
"What are you doing if you ain't laughing?"
"Eatin'."
"Of course: you're always eating." Again Mrs. Lively essayed her coffee, but fell back in her chair with an unutterable look. "Oh, I can't!—I cannot do it!" she exclaimed.
"Don't," Napoleon advised.
Mrs. Lively with a sudden jerk sat bolt upright, as straight as a crock. "Who asked you for your advice?" she demanded sharply.
The young Lively swallowed three times distinctly, and then replied, while shaking the pepper-box over his potato, "Nobody."