"A most extraordinary thing has happened," said Mrs. Ellsworthy that
evening to her husband. "We have lived for several years at
Shortlands, and except when we have people in the house I have
actually been without any society. My dear Joseph, you will forgive my
counting you as nobody at all. Well, we have lived here, and I have
often been dull beyond words, and yet the nicest creatures have been
within a stone's throw of me."

Mr. Ellsworthy was at least twenty years older than his wife--a
reserved individual, with a rather long and melancholy face. Mrs.
Ellsworthy was plump, and round, and pretty--kittenish some people
called her.

She was certainly fond of emphasizing her words, and of going into
raptures, and her husband now only raised his eyebrows, and said,
"Well, Kate?" in a somewhat lethargic voice.

Mrs. Ellsworthy left her seat, and drew a small easy-chair close to
the fire, for though the weather was hot Mrs. Ellsworthy always
insisted on indulging in this evening luxury.

Planting herself luxuriously in this chair, the little lady began her
narrative.

"Now, Joseph, I will tell you my story. Do you remember that
outlandish-looking governess who came up here for a week to try to
keep Frankie in order before we sent him to school? Oh, what a
blessing it is to have that boy at school! Do you remember Miss
Martineau, Joseph?"