remark, I admit, sounds weak when
written down; the most natural remarks always do.

"It's a fact," said the doctor, "though she does not suggest the shop-
girl, does she? But then I have known countesses, descended in a direct
line from William the Conqueror, who did, so things balance one another.
Mary, Countess of ---, was, thirty years ago, Mary Sewell, daughter of a
Taunton linen-draper. The business, profitable enough as country
businesses go, was inadequate for the needs of the Sewell family,
consisting, as I believe it did, of seven boys and eight girls. Mary,
the youngest, as soon as her brief schooling was over, had to shift for
herself. She seems to have tried her hand at one or two things, finally
taking service with a cousin, a baker and confectioner, who was doing
well in Oxford Street. She must have been a remarkably attractive girl;
she's a handsome woman now. I can picture that soft creamy skin when it
was fresh and smooth, and the West of England girls run naturally to
dimples and eyes that glisten as though they had been just washed in
morning dew. The shop did a good trade in ladies' lunches--it was the
glass of sherry and sweet biscuit period. I expect they dressed her in
some neat-fitting grey or black dress, with short sleeves, showing her
plump arms, and that she flitted around the marble-topped tables,
smiling, and looking cool and sweet. There the present Earl of ---, then
young Lord C---, fresh from Oxford, and new to the dangers of London
bachelordom, first saw her. He had accompanied some female relatives to
the photographer's, and, hotels and restaurants being deemed impossible
in those days for ladies, had taken them to Sewell's to lunch. Mary
Sewell waited upon the party; and now as many of that party as are above
ground wait upon Mary Sewell."

"He showed good sense in marrying her," I said, "I admire him for it."
The doctor's sixty-four Lafitte was excellent. I felt charitably
inclined towards all men and women, even towards earls and countesses.

"I don't think he had much to do with it," laughed the doctor, "beyond
being, like Barkis, 'willing.' It's a queer story; some people profess
not to believe it, but those who know her ladyship best think it is just
the story that must be true, because it is so characteristic of her. And
besides, I happen to know that it is true."

"I should like to hear it," I said.

"I am going to tell it you," said the doctor, lighting a fr