My wife was a good deal taken aback, but Sinclair went on to prove his case.
"We are trying to avoid waste," he said. "Well, we may have eliminated a certain amount of—let us say material waste, but we are causing, on the other hand, the most deplorable moral waste. Henry and I were simply not on speaking terms yesterday after he scooped my marmalade under my very nose, and as for Charles" (that is myself) "he is simply out for loot. He gets down before the gong. And this is essentially a time to heal all differences and stand shoulder to shoulder."
"But I can't have waste," said my wife, who likes to stick to her point. "If things are left over there is no one to eat them."
"It will give me great pleasure," the Reverend Henry broke in eagerly, "to present you with a couple of live pigs—the animal kind, I mean."
"I want some smart collars."
"Yessir. Mr. Simpkins, just bring me down an assortment of 'Dirigibles' and some 'Super-Dreadnoughts."