Chapter 3

The question of how I'm to start the story properly, I've tried to settle in two ways.

First, by scratching my head, which led to nothing.

Second, by consulting my daughter Penalope, which has resulted in an entirely new idea.

Penalope's notion is that I should set down what happened day by day, beginning with

the day when we got the news that Mr. Franklin Blake was expected on a visit to the house.

When you come to fix your memory with a date in this way, it is wonderful what your memory

will pick up for you upon that compulsion.

The only difficulty is to fetch out the dates and the first place.

This Penalope offers to do for me by looking into her own diary, which she was taught to

keep when she was at school, in which she has gone on keeping ever since.

An answer to an improvement on this notion, devised by myself, namely, that she should

tell the story, instead of me, out of her own diary, Penalope observes with a fierce

look and a red face that her journal is for her own private eye, and that no living

creature shall ever know what is in it but herself.

When I inquire what this means, Penalope says fiddle sticks.

I say sweet hearts.

Beginning then, on Penalope's plan, I beg to mention that I was specially called one

Wednesday morning into my lady's own sitting room, the date being the 24th of May, 1848.

Gabriel, says my lady, here is news that will surprise you.

Franklin Blake has come back from abroad.

He's been staying with his father in London, and he's coming to us tomorrow to stop till

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