We feel
that we must live on cream for the rest of our lives. Of course, some of
them can be changed."
Wilfrid occupied himself chiefly with such of the gifts as were of
antique interest, carrying one or two of them over to the lamp to examine
their marks. The anxiety of his hosts at these moments resembled the
solicitude of a cat whose newly born kittens are being handed round for
inspection.
"Let me see; did you give me back the mustard-pot? This is its place
here," piped Mrs. Peter.
"Sorry. I put it down by the claret-jug," said Wilfrid, busy with
another object.
"Oh, just let me have the sugar-sifter again," asked Mrs. Peter, dogged
determination showing through her nervousness; "I must label it who it
comes from before I forget."
Vigilance was not completely crowned with a sense of victory. After they
had said "Good-night" to their visitor, Mrs. Peter expressed her
conviction that he had taken something.
"I fancy, by his manner, that there was something up," corroborated her
husband; "do you miss anything?"
Mrs. Peters hastily counted the array of gifts.
"I can only make it thirty-four, and I think it should be thirty-five,"
she announced; "I can't remember if thirty-five includes the Archdeacon's
cruet-stand that hasn't arrived yet.
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