just because you have
fine pictures, and it is historical, and a prince got murdered there a
hundred years ago. Mr. Doran inherited it through his mother, I think
you said, as there are no Lord Retbys left.

[Sidenote: _A Show Place_]

I went to get the photograph of you I always have on my dressing-table,
to show it to Lady Theodosia, and I met quite a troop of tourists on
the stairs, and all the place railed off with fat red cords, and
everything being explained to them by a guide who has the appearance of
a very haughty butler, and lives here just to do this, and look after
the things. The tourists stared at me because I was inside the rope,
just as if I had been a Royalty, and whispered and nudged one another,
and one said, "Is that Lady Theodosia?" and I felt inclined to call out
"No, not by twelve stone." It was funny seeing them. The housekeeper
hates it; she says it takes six housemaids the rest of the day removing
their traces, and getting rid of the smell. And as for the Bank Holiday
ones, they have no respect for the house at all. Lady Theodosia told me
the housekeeper came to her nearly weeping after the last one. "Oh, my
lady," she said, "they treats us as if we was _ruins_."

Mr. Harrington had not been allowed to shoot, because the St. Bernard
and Fluff hated their muzzles so, when they were tried on, that he had
to go in to the local harness-maker and have them altered under his own
eye. He got back just as we were starting for lunch, and Lady Theodosia
made him come with us, and sent the groom on with the lunch carts. She
drives one of those old-fashioned, very low pony-shays, with a seat up
behind for the groom, and two such ducks of ponies. There hardly seemed
room for me beside her, and the springs seemed dreadfully down on her
side. She generally sits in the middle when alone, Mr. Harrington told
me afterwards. She noticed about the springs herself, and said,
"Frederick, you must lean all your weight on the other side." We must
have looked odd going along; I squashed in beside her with a poodle and
Fanny at my feet, and poor Mr. Harrington clinging to one side like
grim death, so as to try and get the balance more level. It seemed
quite a long drive, and lunch was laid out on a trestle table in a
farmhouse garden, and was a splendid repast, with hot _entrees_, and
Lady Theodosia had some of them all.

[Sidenote: _Mr. Doran's Philanthropy_]

It appears Captain Fieldin and Sir Augustus Grant are