There remained at length only
the flat silver and a few thousand dollars' worth of solid silver
receptacles for which we had now paid four hundred dollars storage. But
these remained, secure, fixed beyond the assaults of the imagination.
One morning at the breakfast table I laid down my cup with a crash.
Clara gave an exclamation of alarm.
"George dear, what is it?"
For all reply I seized a handful of the Pond Lily pattern silver and
gazed at it with a savage joy.
"George, George, what has happened?"
"My dear, I have an idea--a wonderful idea."
"What idea?"
"We will spend the summer in Lone Tree, New Jersey."
Clara screamed.
"Are you in your senses, George?"
"Never more so."
"But it's broiling hot!"
"Hotter than that."
"It is simply deluged with mosquitoes."
"There _are_ several mosquitoes there."
"It's a hole in the ground!"
"It certainly is."
"And the only people we know there are the Jimmy Lakes, whom I detest."
"I can't bear them."
"And, George, there are _burglars_!"
"Yes, my dear," I said triumphantly, "heaven be praised there _are_
burglars!"
Clara looked at me.
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