married in 1870, is really fine, with beautiful old furniture and
china; only everything within reach is scratched and spoilt by the
"children." It must make the family portraits turn in their frames to
see Fluff eating one of their tapestry footstools, or the cats clawing
the Venetian velvet chairs.

[Sidenote: _Feeding the Aborigines_]

There was a dinner party in the evening. As we went upstairs to dress,
Lady Theodosia told me about it. She said she was obliged to entertain
all the Aborigines twice a year, and that most people gave them garden
parties; but she found that too fatiguing, so she had two dinners in
the shooting season, and two at Easter, to which she asked every one.
She just puts all their names in a bag, and counts out twelve couples
for each party, and then she makes up the number to thirty-six with
odd creatures, daughters and old maids, and sons and curates, &c., and
she finds it a capital plan. She said, "I give 'em plenty to eat and
drink, and they draw for partners, and all go home as happy as possible
feeling there has been no favouritism!"

She explained that the lawyers and doctors enjoyed having their food
with the earls and baronets much more than just prancing about lawns.
And when I asked her how the earls and baronets liked it, she said
there were only three or four, and they had to put up with it or stay
at home; she had done it now for thirty years, and they were accustomed
to it; besides, she had the best _chef_ in England, and anyway it was a
nice change for people not knowing who they were going to be put next
to. It took her such a long time to tell me all this, and to see me to
my room, that I was almost late, and she did not get into the state
drawing-room until all the guests had arrived.

You never saw anything so funny as it was, Mamma. Mr. Doran was trying
to be polite to the odd collection, evidently not quite knowing which
was which. Old Lord and Lady Devnant were glaring at the rest of the
company from the hearth-rug, with a look of "You invade this mat at
your peril!" Sir Christopher Harford paying extravagant compliments to
the parson's wife (I knew which they were because I heard them
announced), and the "Squire" and Mrs. de Lacy--who came over with the
Conqueror--standing apart with their skinny daughters, all holding
their noses in the air. Everybody seemed to be in their best clothes,
and most of the women had flowers and tulle or little black feathers
sticking u