ring me, and that it was so
sweet of her to come to this friendly little party. "It is so much
nicer to have just one's own friends," she said, "instead of those huge
collections of people one hardly knows." There are quite twenty of us
here, Mamma, so I don't call it such a very weeny party, do you?

My bedroom is magnificent, but it hasn't all the new books as they have
at Chevenix, and although the writing-table things are tortoise-shell
and gold, there aren't any pens in the holders, that is why I am
writing this in pencil. The towels have such beautifully embroidered
double crests on them, and on the Hartley bit, the motto is "_La fin
vaut l'eschelle_." Octavia, who is in the room now looking at
everything, said Lady Greswold chose it for them when they wanted a
crest to have on their Sevres plates and things for their concert.
Octavia keeps laughing to herself all the time, as she looks at the
things, and it puts me out writing, so I will finish this when I come
to bed.

[Sidenote: _A Question of Taste_]

12.30.--We had a regular banquet, I sat next to Lord Doraine--I did not
catch the name of the man who took me in--I forgot to tell you the
Doraines and Sir Trevor and Lady Cecilia and lots of others I know are
here. Mrs. Murray-Hartley does hostess herself, which Octavia says is
very plucky of her, as both Lady Greswold, who gave her concert, and
Lady Bobby Pomeroy, who brought all the young men, are staying in the
house; and Octavia says it shows she is really clever to have
emancipated herself so soon.

We had gold plate with the game, and china up to that, and afterwards
Lady Greswold talked to Octavia, and asked her if she thought it would
look better perhaps to begin gold with the soup, and have the _hors
d'oeuvres_ on specimen Sevres just to make a point. I hate gold plate
myself, one's knife does make such slate-pencilish noises on it.

[Sidenote: _Lord Valmond's Arrival_]

The man who took me in kept putting my teeth so on edge that I was
obliged to speak to him about it at last. We had sturgeon from the
Volga, or wherever the Roman emperors got theirs, but the plates were
cold. Violins played softly all the time, behind a kind of Niagara
Falls at the end of the room, which is magnificent; it is hung with
aubusson, almost as good as what they had at Croixmare, which has been
there always.

After dinner, while we were in the drawing-room alone, a note came for
Mrs. Murray-Hartley. She was talking