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On the twelfth of August, I received a letter from my acquaintance, Henry Loffemoore, inviting me to his abode, for he was shortly to be off to London, and wished me to be one of his party. He was not a very intimate confidante of mine, but he so steadily entreated me that I reluctantly packed my trunk and traveled to the Loffemoore Manor. It was a grand, if rather dark and somber house, and within, a large group of young ladies and gentlemen were there assembled. I felt awkward and out of spirits, as is almost always the case with myself in large company. Henry, who knew my disposition, often berated me to be a more 'jolly sociable fellow'. I tried my best, but failed most acutely, I’m afraid. I was on the verge of quitting the party and returning home, but Henry insisted that if I would not go to London with the rest of the party, I would at least station myself at the Loffemoore Manor instead of returning to my secluded dwelling. Repentant of my characteristic failings, I agreed. Henry had always been of an almost fitful nature, inclined to a great deal of impulsive and sporadic behavior, and I believe he was relieved he would not have to worry about the well being of his eccentric friend on his London trip. Henry also mildly requested that I train an attentive eye on his elderly father, who, as I had heard, was rather odd and eccentric himself. The party left two days after wards, of which I was immensely relieved. In the peaceful quiet, I soon became acquainted with the remainder of the household, which was much more to my taste. I was introduced to John, the cook, and to Patricia Thuman, one of the three maids. She was a bright, intelligent young lady and we struck off a friendly acquaintance almost at once. Many might have the friendship imprudent, but as I was hardly a young gentleman of any large consequence, and she was a well-mannered, kind girl, I thought nothing of it. I was also ushered into the presence of Mr. Arthur Loffemoore, or ‘Old Man Arthur’ as the servants addressed him. He was a man of three and sixty years of age, a sharp-thinking man with an intense command. I thought something off balanced about him, but he was obliging and courteous enough. I soon became a steady companion to the elder man, as he liked my company well enough and often sent for me to play chess with him. Patricia -or Patty, as she was often called- was my ever complacent companion, and I often spent some time with her in pleasant conversation. In all, I was quite comfortable at the Loffemoore Manor, and while the excellently stocked library still remained within its doors, I was happy to remain.