Silence fell upon the table, you and Lizbeth holding Father’s outstretched hands. Your eyes were wide, the better to see. Your lips were parted, the better, doubtless, to hear. Only Mother was serene, for only Mother knew. And then through the stillness came the sound of rattling plates. "Pie," you whispered. "Pudding," whispered Lizbeth. "Jelly," whispered Father, hoarsely. The door swung open. You rose in your seats, you and Lizbeth and Father, craning your necks to see, and, seeing— "_Pie!_" you cried, triumphantly. "Ah!" said Father, lifting his pie-crust gayly with the tip of his fork. "Apples," you said, peeping under your crust. "Apples, my son? Apples? Why, no. Bless my soul! As I live, this is a robber’s cave filled with sacks of gold." "Oh, _Father_!" you cried, incredulous, not knowing how to take him yet; but you peeped again, and under your pie-crust it was like a cave, and the little slices of juicy apple lay there like sacks of gold. "And see!" said Father, pointing with his fork, "there is the entrance to the cave, and when the policemen chased the robbers—pop! they went, right into their hole, like rabbits." And sure enough, in the upper crusts were the little cuts through which the robbers popped. Your eyes widened. "And oh, Father," you said, "the smoke can come out through the little holes when the robbers build their fire." "Aha!" cried Father, fiercely. "I’m the policeman breaking into the cave while the robbers are away," and he took a bite. "And I’m another policeman," you cried, catching the spirit of the thing and taking a bigger bite than Father’s. "And I’m a policeman’s wife coming along, too," said Lizbeth, helping herself, so that Mother said: "John, John, how am I ever going to teach these children table manners when—" "But see, Mother, see!" Father explained, taking another bite, and ignoring Mother’s eyes. "If we don’t get the gold away the robbers will come back and—" "Kill us!" you broke in. "Yes, kill us, Mother!" shouted Father, balancing another sack of gold on the end of his fork. "Yes, yes, Mother, don’t you see?" "I see," said Mother, just between laugh and frown, and when the robbers came back around the coffee-pot hill, lo! there was no gold or cave awaiting them—only three plates scraped clean, and two jubilant policemen and a policeman’s wife, full of gold. And when Father was Father again, leaning on the back of Mother’s chair, she said to him, "You’re nothing but a great big boy," so that Father chuckled, his cheek against hers and his eyes shining. That was the way with Father. Six days he found quite long enough to be a man; so on Sunday he became a boy.