the whole
performance.

I was introduced into the world by an old lady named Mrs. O'Reilly. She
was a very pleasant old lady, the wife of a General, and one of those
sociable, friendly, talkative people who do much to cheer their
neighbours, particularly in a deadly-lively provincial place like
Muddleton, where the standard of social intercourse is not very high.
Mrs. O'Reilly had been in her day a celebrated beauty; she was now grey-
haired and stout, but still there was something impressive about her, and
few could resist the charm of her manner and the pleasant easy flow of
her small talk. Her love of gossip amounted almost to a passion, and
nothing came amiss to her; she liked to know everything about everybody,
and in the main I think her interest was a kindly one, though she found
that a little bit of scandal, every now and then, added a piquant flavour
to the homely fare provided by the commonplace life of the Muddletonians.

I will now, without further preamble, begin the history of my life.

* * * * *

"I assure you, my dear Lena, Mr. Zaluski is nothing less than a
Nihilist!"

The sound waves set in motion by Mrs. O'Reilly's words were tumultuously
heaving in the atmosphere when I sprang into being, a young but perfectly
formed and most promising slander. A delicious odour of tea pervaded the
drawing-room, it was orange-flower pekoe, and Mrs. O'Reilly was just
handing one of the delicate Crown Derby cups to her visitor, Miss Lena
Houghton.

"What a shocking thing! Do you really mean it?" exclaimed Miss Houghton.
"Thank you, cream but no sugar; don't you know, Mrs. O'Reilly, that it is
only Low-Church people who take sugar nowadays? But, really, now, about
Mr. Zaluski? How did you find it out?"

"My dear, I am an old woman, and I have learnt in the course of a
wandering life to put two and two together," said Mrs. O'Reilly. She had
somehow managed to ignore middle age, and had passed from her position of
renowned beauty to the position which she now firmly and constantly
claimed of many years and much experience. "Of course," she continued,
"like every one else, I was glad enough to be friendly and pleasant to
Sigismund Zaluski, and as to his being a Pole, why, I think it rather
pleased me than otherwise. You see, my dear, I have knocked about the
world and mixed with all kinds of people. Still, one must draw the line
somewhere, and I confess it gave me a very painful shock to find that he
had