“Well! then, let me tell you, Mrs. Battleby as it ain’t! And I’ll thank you not to call me out of my name. I’m married to a nobleman, and I’ll stick up for my rights. ‘My lady’ is the proper way for you to address me, Mrs. Battleby! I’m a Markiness!” “A _what!_” exclaimed Mrs. Battleby, as she pushed her visitor into the back parlour, which lacked an inmate. “Are you mocking me, Hannah, or ’ave you gone clean off your chump? A markiness! You must be daft! They belongs to the highest of the haristocracy. What ’ave you been a’doing of, since you left this ’ouse?” As she lighted the gas, and was enabled to have a good look at her late slavey, the landlady perceived there was a great difference in her appearance. Hannah wore the famous apple-green merino, with a silk mantle over it--a small black bonnet, crowned with scarlet poppies, and a pair of brown silk gloves. Altogether, though she did not look like a marchioness, she had the appearance of a very respectable servant. “And now do tell me the rights of all this, for you’ve took my breath away,” said Mrs. Battleby. “What’s become of the poor Professor, and his friend the Doctor, and ’ave you left them for good, and where are you living now?” She pushed Hannah into a chair and took one opposite herself, so eager was she to learn how this wonderful transformation scene had come about. The Marchesa di Sorrento was wonderfully self-possessed. She drew off her silk gloves and folded them neatly on her lap--placed her umbrella in a safe position--and settled herself down for a good talk. “I have not left the Sig-nor at all, Mrs. Battleby,” she commenced; “we’ve been married for a long time now, and our ’ouse is at ’Ampstead.” “The Sig-nor has _married_ you!” exclaimed the landlady, gasping in her surprise. “Why! I allays thought as ’e was a real gentleman! Actually _married_ you! Well! wonders never cease!” “A real gentleman,” cried Hannah, sharply, “I should think he was--a better gentleman than you’ll ever ’ave in your attics agen, Mrs. Battleby. He’s more than a gentleman, a good deal! He’s a real Markiss! What do you think of that! The Markiss dee Sorrento! And I’m a Markiness! The Markiness dee Sorrento! And that’s why you’ll ’ave to call me ‘my lady’ if ever you speaks to me agen, Mrs. Battleby.” “I don’t believe as I could ever find it on my tongue to do it, Hannah--not if you was to give me a ’undred pounds,” said the landlady, as she sank back in her chair with surprise. “Are you satisfied I speak the truth,” asked Hannah, presently, “or must I bring the Markiss here to tell you so, himself? He was always a Markiss, of course, but he didn’t choose to let on to you about it. But as soon as we was married, he told me the truth! It was a fine surprise for me, as you may be sure, but I’m quite accustomed to it now.”