“No, no! Here, you hold this, and I’ll go.” [pg 013] I dash to the bureau. Sure enough, he is right about the cushion. I glance hastily about. There, in a little saucer, are a half-dozen of the sort I want. I snatch some and run back.
“Well, it wasn’t in the cushion, I bet.”
“No,” I admit; “it was in a saucer just behind the cushion.”
“You said cushion.”
“I know. It’s all right.”
“Now, if you had said simply ‘bureau,’ I’d have looked in other places on it.”
“Yes, you’d have looked in other places!” I could not forbear responding. There is, I grant, another side to this question. One evening when I went upstairs I found a partial presentation of it, in the form of a little newspaper clipping, pinned on my cushion. It read as follows:—
“My dear,” said she, “please run and bring me the needle from the haystack.”
“Oh, I don’t know which haystack.”
“Look in all the haystacks—you can’t miss it; there’s only one needle.”