Curiosity brought me on my next visit to George with more anticipation than usual. The advertisement had duly appeared. But my inquiries found him oddly reticent.
"Look here, George," I said at length, "what did that paragraph produce?"
"I got stacks of letters, mostly humorous, that will require answering."
"No presents?"
"One," answered George reluctantly, "from Emeline."
This was intriguing. George's manner with regard to it was discouraging, not to say morose. But I am not easily put off.
"What sort of present?" I persisted.
"Oh, handsome enough. A silver frame, quite good in its way, with a family group of herself and her husband and three kids inside it. I shall take that out."
"Any inscription?"
The moment I had said it I saw that I had found the trouble.