a truckman,
Mrs. Lively hurried in to get together the most valuable of their
belongings. For a time she proceeded with considerable system, tying in
sheets and locking in trunks the best of the bedding and other
necessaries. Then she got together some family relics, looked longingly
at some paintings, took down a quaintly-carved Black-Forest clock from
its shelf, and then set it back, feeling that something else would be
more needed. But as the roar of the tempest came nearer she was seized
with panic, and no longer knew what she did. When Dr. Lively came in to
announce the dray at the door he found his wife making for a trunk with
a tin baking-pan in one hand and a cloth duster in the other.

"For Heaven's sake, Priscilla, don't pack up such trash!" he cried.
"Have you got up the parlor carpets?"

"Oh dear! no: I never thought of them. Nappy might get them up if he
would. Napoleon! Where under the sun is that boy? Napoleon!" she called.

"Here," answered Napoleon through a mouthful of cake. He entered with a
basket in his hand.

"Why in the world don't you go to work and help?"

"Am helping."

"What are you doing?"

"Packing."

"Packing what, I'd like to know?"

"Victuals."

"Of course! I might have known without asking. What in the world shall
we want with victuals, in the street without roof or bed?"

But the father told him to hold on to his basket.

"You may be sure he'll do that," said the mother. "What in the world are
all those boxes you've got there?" she asked as she dragged a sheet full
of articles to the front door.

"Some things from my office," the doctor replied hurriedly.

"I just know they're those plants and fossils and casts and miserable
things that have been in my way everlastingly. I was in hopes they'd get
burnt up."

Without heeding his wife, Dr. Lively disappeared into the house for
something else.

"Take those boxes off," she said to the drayman.

"Blast my eyes if I'm going to be lifting boxes off and on here all
night for any darned twenty-five dollars that ever was paid. Hurry your
things on here, or, by Godfrey! I'll dump 'em and be off. Blast me if
I'll wait here a second beyond five minutes."

Just then the doctor reappeared, and began to turn over the contents of
a sheet before tying it. "Oh, my dear," he cried in a tone of mingled
remonstrance and despair, "we can't spare room for these worthless
traps;" and he pitched out a pair of vases, two pin-cushions, a d