My father repeatedly tried to turn the conversation from himself, but
Mrs. Humdrum and Yram wanted to know about Nna Haras, as they persisted
in calling my mother--how she endured her terrible experiences in the
balloon, when she and my father were married, all about my unworthy self,
and England generally. No matter how often he began to ask questions
about the Nosnibors and other old acquaintances, both the ladies soon
went back to his own adventures. He succeeded, however, in learning that
Mr. Nosnibor was dead, and Zulora, an old maid of the most unattractive
kind, who had persistently refused to accept Sunchildism, while Mrs.
Nosnibor was the recipient of honours hardly inferior to those conferred
by the people at large on my father and mother, with whom, indeed, she
believed herself to have frequent interviews by way of visionary
revelations. So intolerable were these revelations to Zulora, that a
separate establishment had been provided for her. George said to my
father quietly--"Do you know I begin to think that Zulora must be rather
a nice person."
"Perhaps," said my father grimly, "but my wife and I did not find it
out."
When the ladies left the room, Dr. Downie took Yram's seat, and Hanky Dr.
Downie's; the Mayor took Mrs. Humdrum's, leaving my father, George, and
Panky, in their old places.
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