"
"Well, at any rate, I do hope they'll be quick about it, so we can
leave this dreadful place."
"They'll never come if you're going to watch them," I said angrily.
We had quite a little quarrel on that point.
The month of June passed and still we remained in possession of our
wedding silver. Clara was openly discouraged and if I still clung to my
faith, at the bottom I was anxious and impatient. When July passed
unfruitfully even our sense of humor was seriously endangered.
"They will never come," said Clara firmly.
"My dear," I replied, "the last time they came in July. All the more
reason that they should change to August."
"They will never come," said Clara a second time.
"Let's bait the hook," I said, trying to turn the subject into a
facetious vein. "We might strew a dozen or so of those individual dishes
down the path to the road."
"They'll never come," said Clara obstinately.
And yet they came.
On the second of August, about two o'clock in the morning I was awakened
out of a deep sleep by the voice of my wife crying:
"George, here's a burglar!"
I thought the joke obvious and ill-timed and sleepily said so.
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