"The feelings of a brother! My only fear is that you may overlook one or two articles that I admit are not conveniently exposed."
The bull's-eye turned upon me with a sudden jerk.
"Well, I'll be damned!"
"We have waited for you long and patiently. We thought you would never come. In fact, we had sort of lost faith in you. I'm sorry. I apologize. In a way I don't deserve this—I really don't."
"Bughouse!" came from the foot of the bed, in a suppressed mutter. "Out and out bughouse!"
"Quite wrong," I said cheerily. "I never was in better health. You are surprised, you don't understand. It's not necessary you should. It would rob the situation of its humor if you should. All I ask of you is to take everything, don't make a slip, get it all."
"Oh, do, please, please do!" said Clara earnestly.
The silence at the foot of the bed had the force of an exclamation.
"Above all," I continued anxiously, "don't forget the pots. They stand on either side of the fireplace, filled with ferns. They are not pewter. They are solid silver champagne coolers. They are worth—they are worth—"
"Two hundred apiece," said Clara instantly.