Ledstone Park is owned by some people of the name of Gurrage—­does not it sound a fat word!  They are a mother and son, but they have been at Bournemouth ever since we came, six months ago.  It is a frightful place, and although it is miles in the country it looks like a suburban villa; the outside is all stucco, and nasty, common-looking pots and bad statues ornament the drive.  They pulled down the smaller original Jacobean house that was there when they bought the place, we have heard.  They are coming home soon, so perhaps we shall see them, but I can’t think Gurrage could be the name of really nice people.  The parson, of the church came to call at once, but grandmamma nearly made him spoil his hat, he fidgeted with it so, and he hardly dared to ask for more than one subscription—­she is so beautifully polite, and she often is laughing in her sleeve.  She says so few people can see the comic side of things and that it is a great gift and chases away foolish migraines.  I think she has a grand scheme in her head for me, and that is what we are saving up every penny for.

Grandpapa’s people lived in the next county to this, in a place called Dane Mount.  He was a younger son and in the diplomatic service before he made his betise, but if he was alive now he would be over a hundred years old, so during that time the family has naturally branched off a good deal, and we can’t be said to be very nearly related to them.  The place was not entailed, and went with the female line into the Thornhirst family, who live there now.  They are rather new baronets, created by George II.  However, I believe grandmamma’s scheme is for us to become acquainted with them, and for me to marry whichever of them is the right age.  The present baronet’s name is Sir Antony; it is a pretty name, I think.  How this is to come about I do not know, and of course I dare not question grandmamma.

How I wish it was summer again!  I hate these damp, cold days, and the east winds, and the darkness.  I wish I might stay in bed until eleven, as grandmamma does.  We have our chocolate at seven, which Hephzibah brings up, and then when I am dressed I practise for an hour; after that there are the finishing touches to be put to our sitting-room, and the best Sevres and the miniatures to be dusted.  Grandmamma would not trust any one to do it but me, but by ten I can get out for a walk.

It used to be dreadfully tiresome until we came here, because I was never allowed to go out without Hephzibah, and she was so busy we never got a chance in the morning, but since we came here I have had such a pleasure.  A dear, clever collie for a friend—­we got him from the lost dogs’ home, and no one can know the joy he is to me.  Grandmamma considers him a kind of chaperon, and I am allowed to go alone for quite long walks now, and when we are out of sight and no one is looking we run, and it is such fun.  Yesterday there was an excitement—­the hunt