I informed him that I was and exactly what I thought of the Tory party; and we talked through the rest of dinner.  Towards the end of our conversation he asked me who I was.  I told him that, after his manners to me in the earlier part of the evening, it was perhaps better that we should remain strangers.  However, after a little chaff, we made friends and he said that he would come and see me in Grosvenor Square.

On the night of the supper-party, I was wearing a white muslin dress with transparent chemise sleeves, a fichu and a long skirt with a Nattier blue taffeta sash.  I had taken a bunch of rose carnations out of a glass and pinned them into my fichu with three diamond ducks given me by Lord Carmichael, our delightful Peeblesshire friend and neighbour.

On my arrival at the Churchills’, I observed all the fine ladies wearing ball-dresses off the shoulder and their tiaras.  This made me very conspicuous and I wished profoundly that I had changed into something smarter before going out.

The Prince of Wales had not arrived and, as our hostess was giving orders to the White Hungarian Band, my father and I had to walk into the room alone.

I saw several of the ladies eyeing my toilette, and having painfully sharp ears I heard some of their remarks: 

“Do look at Miss Tennant!  She is in her night-gown!”

“I suppose it is meant to be ‘ye olde Englishe pictury!’ I wonder she has not let her hair down like the Juliets at the Oakham balls!”

Another, more charitable, said: 

“I daresay no one told her that the Prince of Wales was coming. ...  Poor child!  What a shame!”

And finally a man said: 

“There is nothing so odd as the passion some people have for self-advertisement; it only shows what it is to be intellectual!”

At that moment our hostess came up to us with a charming accueil.

The first time I saw Lady Randolph was at Punchestown races, in 1887, where I went with my new friends, Mrs. Bunbury, Hatfield Harter and Peter Flower.  I was standing at the double when I observed a woman next to me in a Black Watch tartan skirt, braided coat and astrachan hussar’s cap.  She had a forehead like a panther’s and great wild eyes that looked through you; she was so arresting that I followed her about till I found some one who could tell me who she was.

Had Lady Randolph Churchill been like her face, she could have governed the world.

My father and I were much relieved at her greeting; and while we were talking the Prince of Wales arrived.  The ladies fell into position, ceased chattering and made subterranean curtsies.  He came straight up to me and told me I was to sit on the other side of him at supper.  I said, hanging my head with becoming modesty and in a loud voice: 

“Oh no, Sir, I am not dressed at all for the part!  I had better slip away, I had no notion this was going to be such a smart party ...  I expect some of the ladies here think I have insulted them by coming in my night-gown!”