“Yes, isn’t it annoying,” went on Mrs. Peter; “seven of them. We feel that we must live on cream for the rest of our lives. Of course, some of them can be changed.”

Wilfrid occupied himself chiefly with such of the gifts as were of antique interest, carrying one or two of them over to the lamp to examine their marks. The anxiety of his hosts at these moments resembled the solicitude of a cat whose newly born kittens are being handed round for inspection.

“Let me see; did you give me back the mustard-pot? This is its place here,” piped Mrs. Peter.

“Sorry. I put it down by the claret-jug,” said Wilfrid, busy with another object.