And then I am sorry to say he changed the subject abruptly. He went on:
“What’s this about King Edward potatoes? Stuff and nonsense! I knew all about potatoes. Grew them at Windsor. Kew too. Wrote an article about them. Why can’t they name a potato after me? What?”
Here Chlorine interposed: “Do you wish for another three minutes, sir, or have you finished?”
I hoped he would say, “Don’t cut us off,” but, possibly from habits of economy, he did not. I have not given his name, for fear of being thought indiscreet, but possibly those who are deeply read in history may guess it.
It is the greatest tribute but one that I have ever received, and I think brings me very nearly up to the level of my Great Example. If I could only feel that for once I had done that, I could fold my little hands and be content.
But it is not quite the greatest tribute of all. The greatest is my own self-estimate of me myself. It demands and shall receive a chapter all to itself. Wipe your feet, take off your hat, assume a Sunday expression, and enter upon it reverently.
After all, the gift of seeing ourselves as others see us is not to be desired. In your case for certain it would cause you the most intense depression. Even in my own case I doubt if it would give me the same warm, pervading glow of satisfaction that obtain from a more Narcissan procedure.
By the way, ought one to say “self-estimate” or “self-esteem”? What a silly girl I am! I quite forgot.