"He doesn't care a bit," said Mrs. Negget, somewhat sadly. "He used to
keep buttons in that box with the lozenges until one night he gave me one
by mistake. Yes, you may laugh--I'm glad you can laugh."

Mr. Negget, feeling that his mirth was certainly ill-timed, shook for
some time in a noble effort to control himself, and despairing at length,
went into the back place to recover. Sounds of blows indicative of Emma
slapping him on the back did not add to Mrs. Negget's serenity.

"The point is," said the ex-constable, "could anybody have come into your
room while you was asleep and taken it?"

"No," said Mrs. Negget, decisively. I'm a very poor sleeper, and I'd
have woke at once, but if a flock of elephants was to come in the room
they wouldn't wake George. He'd sleep through anything."

"Except her feeling under my piller for her handkerchief," corroborated
Mr. Negget, returning to the sitting-room.

Mr. Bodfish waved them to silence, and again gave way to deep thought.
Three times he took up his pencil, and laying it down again, sat and
drummed on the table with his fingers. Then he arose, and with bent head
walked slowly round and round the room until he stumbled over a stool.

"Nobody came to the house this morning, I suppose?" he said at length,
resuming his seat.

"Only Mrs. Driver," said his niece.

"What time did she come?" inquired Mr. Bodfish.