They are quite established in Society, Octavia says; they have been there for two seasons now, and every one knows them.  They got Lady Greswold to give their first concert, and enclosed programmes with the invitations, so hardly any of the Duchesses felt they could refuse, Octavia said, when they were certain of hearing the best singers for nothing; and it was a splendid plan, as many concerts have been spoilt by a rumour getting about that Melba was not really going to sing.  Everybody smart is here.  I am one of the few untitled people.

[Sidenote:  A Friendly Little Party]

Mrs. Murray-Hartley doesn’t look a bit Jewish, or fat and uneasy, like Mrs. Pike, but then this is only Mrs. Pike’s first year.  She—­Mrs. M.-H.—­is beautifully dressed, and awfully genial; she said it was “just more than delightful” of Octavia to bring 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.