Now, after waiting patiently, as fits a man of my degree, the Woolsack
cries aloud for me, and soft and soothing it will be to my whole frame
and dignity. And unto those who wish from me to know what will the
ending be of my august biography, I answer in a minor key and classic
language, "Wait and see!"

* * * * *

TRANSFORMATION.

My house, which I am trying to let, is a modest little affair in
the country. It has a small meadow to the south and the road to the
north. There are some evergreens about the lawn. The kitchen garden
is large but most indifferently tended; indeed it is partly through
dissatisfaction with a slovenly gardener that I decided to leave. The
nearest town is a mile distant; the nearest station two miles and a
half. We have no light laid on except in a large room in the garden,
where acetylene gas has been installed.

I am telling you these facts as concisely as I told them to the agent.
He took them down one by one and said, "Yes." Having no interest in
anything but the truth, I was as plain with him as I could be.

"Yes," he said, "no gas anywhere but in garden-room."

"Yes, small paddock, about two acres, to the south."

"Yes, one mile from nearest town."