Lord and Lady Grantham, the son-in-law and daughter at whose residence
she passed the time of her sojourn in England, were infallible models of
excellence and prudence; and the children were again and again informed
that their little English cousins were never allowed meat until the age
of seven, and considered it a great treat to get beef broth twice a
week. Butter was also a prohibited article of luxury--their usual
breakfast consisting of mashed potatoes, or bread and milk; and my
grandmother used to relate how one morning a little curly-headed thing
approached her with an air of great mystery, and whispered: "What _do_
you think we had for breakfast?" "Something very good, I suspect--what
can it be?" "Guess." "O, I cannot; you must tell me." "_Buttered
bread_!" Our laughter increased as she gave an amusing account of the
blue eyes stretched to their utmost extent, as these wonderful words
were pronounced hesitatingly, as though doubtful of the effect; and in
consequence of various anecdotes of the same nature, the children's
impressions of England were by no means agreeable. Our little cousins
must certainly have been the most wonderful children ever heard of, for
by my grandmother's account, they could dance, sing, and speak French
almost as soon as they could walk. She also informed us, as a positive
fact, that on saying: "_Baisez, Cora--baisez la dame_," the very baby in
arms put up its rosebud lips to kiss the stranger mentioned. It would
have been stranger still for the younger children to speak English, as
they were always in the company of French nurses.

Although my grandmother could so easily assume a stern and commanding
air, it was by no means habitual to her; and the children, though they
feared and never dared to dispute her authority, soon loved her with all
the pure, unselfish love of childhood, which cannot be bought. "Things
were not so and so when I was young," was a favorite remark of hers; and
as I one day remarked that "those must have been wonderful times when