“Look yourself,” I managed to gasp.
This time, somehow, he could see it.
“You planted it! You brought it up and planted it!”
“I never! Oh, dear me! It pays for going without it for weeks!”
“Nothing will ever make me believe that that pen was standing there when I looked for it!” said Jonathan, with vehement finality.
“All right,” I sighed happily. “You don’t have to believe it.”
But in his heart perhaps he does believe it. At any rate, since that time he has adopted a new formula: “My dear, it may be there, of course, but I don’t see it.” And this position I regard as unassailable.
One triumph he has had. I wanted something that was stored away in the shut-up town house.
“Do you suppose you could find it?” I said, as gently as possible.
“I can try,” he said.