It is a mercy Lady Theodosia is only your second cousin, and that her shape has not descended to our branch of the family.  All the “children”—­as she calls the animals—­barked again when the men came in.  There was only a miserable tea left, and, when Mr. Doran ventured to say the dogs had made things rather messy, Lady Theodosia annihilated him.  It was as if he had insulted her nearest and dearest!  But one of the men got quietly to the bell, and when the footmen came they grasped the situation and brought some clean things, so tea finished better than it had begun.  Just before they went to dress Lady Theodosia remembered to introduce them.  The only young one is Mr. Roper, the great shot, and the other two are Sir Augustus Grant and Captain Fieldin; they are oldish.

When they had gone, Lady Theodosia said to me that men were a great nuisance as a rule, but that she had a pet friend, a “dear docile creature, so useful with the dogs,” and he was coming back by the 6.30 train.  You would have laughed, if you could have seen him when he did arrive!  A fair humble thing, with a squeaky voice and obsequious manners.  He had been up to town to get the dogs new muzzles, as the muzzling order has just been put in force in this county.  It appears Lady Theodosia has him always here, and he attends to the dogs for a home, but I would rather be a stable—­boy, wouldn’t you, Mamma?  His name is Frederick Harrington, and Lady Theodosia calls him “Frederick” when she is pleased, and “Harrington” if anything puts her out.  And as she says it, “Harrington” sounds the fattest word you ever heard.  I was glad to get to my room!

Most of the house that I have yet seen, which was not refurnished when she married in 1870, is really fine, with beautiful old furniture and china; only everything within reach is scratched and spoilt by the “children.”  It must make the family portraits turn in their frames to see Fluff eating one of their tapestry footstools, or the cats clawing the Venetian velvet chairs.

[Sidenote:  Feeding the Aborigines]

There was a dinner party in the evening.  As we went upstairs to dress, Lady Theodosia told me about it.  She said she was obliged to entertain all the Aborigines twice a year, and that most people gave them garden parties; but she found that too fatiguing, so she had two dinners in the shooting season, and two at Easter, to which she asked every one.  She just puts all their names in a bag, and counts out twelve couples for each party, and then she makes up the number to thirty-six with odd creatures, daughters and old maids, and sons and curates, &c., and she finds it a capital plan.  She said, “I give ’em plenty to eat and drink, and they draw for partners, and all go home as happy as possible feeling there has been no favouritism!”