to-night, Mr. Preston told me; how would they like to hear an old-
world story which, after all, would be no story at all, neither
beginning, nor middle, nor end, only a bundle of recollections?"

"If you speak of me, madame," said Signor Sperano, "I can only say
you do me one great honour by recounting in my presence anything
about any person that has ever interested you."

Miss Duncan tried to say something of the same kind. In the middle
of her confused speech, Mr. and Mrs. Preston came in. I sprang up; I
went to meet them.

"Oh," said I, "Mrs. Dawson is just going to tell us all about Lady
Ludlow, and a great deal more, only she is afraid it won't interest
anybody: do say you would like to hear it!"

Mrs. Dawson smiled at me, and in reply to their urgency she promised
to tell us all about Lady Ludlow, on condition that each one of us
should, after she had ended, narrate something interesting, which we
had either heard, or which had fallen within our own experience. We
all promised willingly, and then gathered round her sofa to hear what
she could tell us about my Lady Ludlow.

[At this point comes "My Lady Ludlow"--already released by Project
Gutenberg]

As any one may guess, it had taken Mrs. Dawson several Monday
evenings to narrate all this history of the days of her youth. Miss
Duncan thought it would be a good exercise for me, both in memory and
composition, to write out on Tuesday mornings all that I had heard