"Well," said the gnome diffidently, "I'm not exactly—you know—I'm—that is—I want a word!"
"Extremely ugly?" suggested the Count.
"Ye-e-es," said the gnome (rather taken aback); "something of that sort. You know."
"Yes, I know," said the Count; "but how am I to help you? I can't make you pretty."
"No; but I have the power of transforming myself three times during my gnome existence into a magnificent young man."
"O-h-h-h!" said the count slyly.
"Exactly. Well, I've done that twice, but without success as far as regards getting a wife. This is my last chance."
"But how can I help you? You say you can change yourself into a magnificent young man; then why not plead your own cause? I, for my part, am rather—a—"
"Repulsive?" suggested the gnome thinking he had him there.
"Plain," said the count.
"Well," replied the gnome, "there's an unfortunate fact connected with my human existence."
"Out with it. Don't stand on ceremony."
"Well, then, it's this. I begin as a magnificent young man, six feet high, but I diminish imperceptibly day by day, whenever I wash myself, until I shrink into the—a—the—"
"Contemptible abortion?"
"A—yes—thank you—you behold. Well, I've tried it twice, and found on each occasion a lovely girl who
