“You needn’t go into the whole family history,” said Barton Sandow surlily. “How are you?” he added to Tom, but his tone of voice was such that he might as well have told the boy he did not care whether he was well or ill. “I--I wasn’t going to,” said the doctor gently. “I only thought--I--er--and--er--” he seemed to forget what he was going to say. “Did you call on business?” asked Mr. Sandow suddenly, looking at Tom. “Dr. Spidderkins evidently has forgotten what it is about,” he added with a sneer. “I’m from Mr. Townsend’s book store,” was the boy’s reply. “That’s it. I knew it was something about books,” said the doctor with an uneasy laugh. “Thank you for reminding me. I had forgotten. I must pay you that ten dollars.” He drew out his pocketbook, and began fumbling with it, for his eyesight was clearly not of the best. “Ah, I thought I had a ten-dollar bill somewhere in it,” he said, as he handed Tom an envelope. “I sealed it up in this, and meant to send it, but I forgot it. But there ought to be more money in my wallet. I left fifty dollars in it this morning, and now there are only fifteen. I wonder what has become of the rest?” “Do you think I took it?” asked Mr. Sandow, almost savagely. “Why--er--no--of course not,” answered the old doctor, looking over the tops of his spectacles. “I only thought----” “You don’t know what you thought!” exclaimed the other quite fiercely. “First thing you know you’ll be accusing me or my wife of stealing money from you. ’Liza, come here!” he called. His wife stood in the door. “What is it, Barton?” she asked. “The doctor has missed some money from his pocketbook, and he accuses us of taking it.” “No, no! Nothing of the sort!” said the physician quickly. “I--I didn’t mean that. I--I thought I had more money than I have. But--er--I must----” “You spent it, and you’ve forgotten all about it,” declared Mrs. Sandow with a hard laugh. “You’re always doing that, Lemuel. Didn’t you pay for two tons of coal this afternoon?” “That’s so, I guess I must have, but I don’t recollect about it. Did any coal come?” “Of course,” answered Mrs. Sandow, quickly, and Tom, looking up suddenly, saw her making some kind of a motion to her husband. “Then that must be where the money went,” agreed the doctor. “I’m sorry I’m so forgetful. It may interfere with my new book. I don’t mind the money, but I like to know where I spend it.” “Probably you wasted it on books,” said Mr. Sandow, half growling out the words. “No, I never waste money on books, and I only spent ten dollars for one to-day.” “Ten dollars for a book!” gasped Mrs. Sandow. “You’ll be in the poorhouse soon, at that rate.” “It was a very rare volume,” pleaded her brother-in-law. “I--I couldn’t very well let it go.” “Humph!” sniffed the woman. “You’ll wish you had that money some day. But it’s time you went to bed. You’re forgetting it’s past your hour.”