nd that we stayed a long time, and brought all
the children. She offered to send for us, but going in a donkey-cart was
a stipulation on the part of the children, otherwise they could not or
would not tear themselves away from the sand and all its fascinations.
Sara was particularly offended at having to get out to tea, and more so
at not being allowed to go in her bathing-drawers. But a mushroom hat
trimmed with daisies appeased her, and even at that early age she saw
the incongruity of that hat and those nether garments. They were packed,
Hugh, Betty, Sara, and the nursery-maid, into the donkey-cart. Betty was
supposed to drive, but Hugh and Sara had so large a share in the stage
direction of that donkey, that I wonder we ever arrived. We did.
Our approach was not dignified. The donkey would eat the lawn at the
critical moment, and neither the stern rebukes of Sara, nor the gentle
persuasion of Betty, had any effect; neither, to tell the truth, had the
chastisements of Hugh. Of Diana's efforts and mine it is unnecessary
to speak; they only made us very hot. As to Nannie, she said she would
rather have ten children to deal with.

There were horribly tidy and beautifully dressed people walking about on
the lawn, people who had never, I felt sure, been called upon to speak
unkindly to a donkey. It was a little tactless of them, I thought, in
view of our flushed cheeks, to appear so calm and cool, but they were
quite kind, and I noticed that Diana as usual held a little court of her
own, not entirely as the mother of Sara, either. Hugh and Betty too made
friends, and hearing shouts of laughter coming from Hugh's audience, I
went, aunt-like, to see what was happening, and I heard Hugh saying:--

"I've got another! What did the skeleton--"

"Hugh," I said, "I want you!"

"I'm asking riddles, Aunt Woggles."

"Yes, but have you seen the tortoise?"

The situation was saved.

I look back to the rest of that afternoon, and it is all blur and
confusion. I remember the loveliness of the gardens, the peeps of
distant moorland through arches of pink ramblers. I remember how the sun
shone and how beautiful everything was, and above all and through all
those confused memories I hear the quiet, gentle voice of Lady Mary as
she talked to me of things of which I had thought no one knew anything.
She asked me, I remember, if I would like to see the garden, and I loved
her for her graciousness, her affection, and for her love for my