she seemed to get a little nervous and now and again threw around an
anxious look.

Gerald could not help noticing that none of those at breakfast could get
on satisfactorily with their food. It was not altogether that the chops
were tough, but that the knives were all so blunt. Being a guest, he, of
course, made no sign; but presently saw Joshua draw his thumb across the
edge of his knife in an unconscious sort of way. At the action Mary
turned pale and almost fainted.

After breakfast they all went out on the lawn. Mary was making up a
bouquet, and said to her husband, 'Get me a few of the tea-roses, dear.'

Joshua pulled down a cluster from the front of the house. The stem bent,
but was too tough to break. He put his hand in his pocket to get his
knife; but in vain. 'Lend me your knife, Gerald,' he said. But Gerald
had not got one, so he went into the breakfast room and took one from
the table. He came out feeling its edge and grumbling. 'What on earth
has happened to all the knives--the edges seem all ground off?' Mary
turned away hurriedly and entered the house.

Joshua tried to sever the stalk with the blunt knife as country cooks
sever the necks of fowl--as schoolboys cut twine. With a little effort
he finished the task. The cluster of roses grew thick, so he determined
to gather a great bunch.

He could not find a single sharp knife in the sideboard where the
cutlery was kept, so he called Mary, and when she came, told her the
state of things. She looked so agitated and so miserable that he could
not help knowing the truth, and, as if astounded and hurt, asked her: