Most of them had brought silver--shall I say alas! or
happily? Generally some pretty trifle which vouched for the sentiment
and taste of the gift horse without seeming to tax the poor animal's
resources. For instance, Mrs. Guy Sloane brought a silver butterfly
intended for a pen-wiper, and my old friend Sam Bolles a silver
paper-knife. Polly Flinders (I never remember her married name), who
has babies of her own, gave Josephine a silver whistle, ostensibly
intended for my grandson, and Gillespie Gore handed me, with his best
bow, an antique silver decanter label marked "Madeira." To be sure,
Mrs. Willoughby Walton did bring a splendid Indian silver necklace of
exquisite workmanship, which she hung about Josephine's neck with a
grand air, informing her that it had once belonged to a princess. As
Josephine said to me later, Mrs. Willoughby can afford to be munificent
if she chooses, and the necklace will just suit Winona's style of
beauty.
Supper was served at half-past ten, and no one would have guessed that
my darling had not ordered it. Our healths were drunk, and the healths
of our children and grandchild, and I was badgered finally into rising
and making a few scattering remarks by way of grateful acknowledgment.
An effort of this kind would be trying to the sensibilities of even a
real philosopher, and I will confess that, what with stammering and
repeating myself, I was uncertain for some moments whether I should be
able to make myself intelligible.
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