Miss La Touche happened to be next me, so she spoke to me, and said my hat was “too devey for words” (the blue one you got at Caroline’s); and by-and-by we had lunch, and at lunch Lord Valmond came and sat by me, and so Mrs. Smith did too, and she gushed at me.  He seemed rather put out about something—­I suppose it was having to field all the time.—­and she talked to him across me, and she called him “Harry” lots of times, and she always says things that have another meaning.  But they all do that—­repeat each other’s Christian names in a sentence, I mean—­just like you said that middle-class people did when you were young, so I am sure everything must have changed now.

Well, after lunch, all the people in the county seemed to come; some of them had driven endless miles, and we sat apart, I suppose to let them see how ordinary we thought them; and Lady Cecilia was hardly polite, and the others were more or less rude; but presently something happened—­I don’t know what—­and the nice men had not to field any more.  Perhaps they could not stand it any longer, and so every one who had been yawning woke up, and Mr. Wertz, who had been writing letters all this time, appeared, and Lady Doraine made room for him beside her, and they talked; and when our Eleven had drunk something they came and lay on the grass near us, and we had such a nice time.  There is a beautiful man here, and his name is Sir Dennis Desmond, and his grandfather was an Irish King, and he talks to me all the time, and his mother looks at him and frowns; and I think it silly of her, don’t you?  And if I were a man I wouldn’t visit with my mother if she frowned at me.  Do you know her?  She dresses as if she were as young as I am.  She had a blue muslin on this morning, and her hair is red with green stripes in it, and she is all white with thick pink cheeks, and across the room she doesn’t look at all bad; but close!  Goodness gracious she looks a hundred!  And I would much sooner have nice white hair and a cap than look like that, wouldn’t you?  I’ll finish this when I come to bed.

[Sidenote:  Sir Dennis Desmond]

12.30.—­What do you think has happened?  Sir Dennis sat beside me on the sofa just as he did last night—­but I forget, I have not yet told you of yesterday and last night; but never mind now, I must get on.  Well, he said I was a perfect darling, but that he never could get a chance to say a word to me alone, but that if I would only drop my glove outside my door it would be all right; and I thought that such a ridiculous thing to say, that I couldn’t help laughing, and Lady Cecilia happened to be passing, and so she asked me what I was laughing at, and so I told her what he had said, and asked why?  There happened to be a pause just then and, as one has to speak rather loud to Lady Cecilia to attract her attention, every one heard, and they all looked flabergasted; and then all shrieked with laughter, and Sir Dennis said so crossly, “Little fool!” and Lady Desmond simply glared at me, and Lady Cecilia said, “Really, Elizabeth!” and Sir Dennis got purple in the face, and Jane Roose whispered, “How could you dare with his wife listening!” and every one talked and chaffed.  It was too stupid about nothing; but the astonishing part is, that funny old thing I thought was the mother turns out to be his wife!