"No," I said, "the manager would only confuse me. Show me some silver inkstands and some sugar-jugs—I mean some claret-sifters—that is, some silver decanters, you know, and some silver fruit-baskets."
"Yes, Sir." He went away and returned with an inkstand.
"This," he said, "is a very favourite pattern. It combines a large inkpot and a match-stand and a rack for the pens——"
"I know," I said; "they never stay in it."
"No, Sir. And there's a little candlestick for sealing-wax——"
"I'll have it," I said feverishly. "Put it aside for me at once. This is really a most remarkable piece of luck."
"Yes, Sir. Anything else?"
"Yes," I said. "I'll have a sugar-sifter, too. Any sugar-sifter will do. I'm only doing it as a concession."
"Yes, Sir. Where shall I send them?"
I gave the address with great gusto, and when I reported the result of my labours at home I said nothing about the little candlestick. The mere joy of having bought it was enough for me. Thus George Henderson received from us his fifth inkstand and his seventh sugar-sifter. He wrote and said that they were the two things he had most been wishing for.