"It was, but who suggested it? I pass over the bedrooms. I will simply say that they are nightmares. Expensive nightmares! I come to the lamps--how many have we?" "Fourteen." "Fourteen atrocities, imitation Louis Seize, bogus Oriental, feathered, laced and tasseled. So much for useful presents. Now for decoration. We have three Sistine Madonnas (my particular abomination). Two, thank heaven, we can inflict on the next victims, one we have got to live with and why?--so that each of our three intimate friends will believe it his own. We have water colors and etchings which we don't want, and a photograph copy of every picture that every one sees in every one's house. Some original friend has even sent us a life-size, marble reproduction of the Venus de Milo. These things will be our artistic home. Then there are vases--" "Now you are losing your temper." "On the contrary, I'm reserving it. I shan't characterize the bric-à-brac, that was to be expected." "Don't!" "At least that is not marked. I come at last to the silver. Give me the list." Clara sighed and extended it. "Four solid silver terrapin dishes." "Marked." "Marked--Terrapin--ha! ha! Two massive, expensive, solid silver champagne coolers." "Marked." "Marked, my dear--for each end of the table when we give our beefsteak dinners. Almond dishes." "Don't!" "Forty-two individual, solid or filigree almond dishes; forty-two, Clara." "Marked." "Right again, dear. One dozen bonbon dishes, five nouveau riche sugar shakers (we never use them), three muffineers--in heaven's name, what's that? Solid silver bread dishes, solid silver candlesticks by the dozen, solid silver vegetable dishes, and we expect one servant and an intermittent laundress to do the cooking, washing, make the beds and clean the house besides." "All marked," said Clara dolefully. "Every one, my dear. Then the china and the plates, we can't even eat out of the plates we want or drink from the glasses we wish; everything in this house, from top to bottom has been picked out and inflicted upon us against our wants and in defiance of our own taste and we--we have got to go on living with them and trying not to quarrel!" "You have forgotten the worst of all," said Clara. "No, my darling, I have not forgotten it. I have thought of nothing else, but I wanted you to mention it." "The flat silver, George." "The flat silver, my darling. Twelve dozen, solid silver and teaset to match, bought without consulting us, by your two rich bachelor uncles in collusion. We wanted Queen Anne or Louis Seize, simple, dignified, something to live with and grow fond of, and what did we get?" "Oh, dear, they might have asked me!" "But they don't, they never do, that is the theory of wedding presents, my dear. We got Pond Lily pattern, repoussé until it scratches your fingers. Pond Lily pattern, my dear, which I loathe, detest, and abominate!" "I too, George."