Signet, after dinner, that she eats sugar on her porridge every
morning; that will show him her nationality conclusively.

The earl took the greatest interest in my new ancestors, and
approved thoroughly of my choice. He thinks I must have been named
for Lady Penelope Belhaven, who lived in Leven Lodge, one of the
country villas of the Earls of Leven, from whom he himself is
descended. "Does that make us relatives?" I asked. "Relatives,
most assuredly," he replied, "but not too near to destroy the charm
of friendship."

He thought it a great deal nicer to select one's own forebears than
to allow them all the responsibility, and said it would save a world
of trouble if the method could be universally adopted. He added
that he should be glad to part with a good many of his, but doubted
whether I would accept them, as they were `rather a scratch lot.'
(I use his own language, which I thought delightfully easy for a
belted earl.) He was charmed with the story of Francesca and the
lamiter, and offered to drive me to Kildonan House, Helmsdale, on
the first fine day. I told him he was quite safe in making the
proposition, for we had already had the fine day, and we understood
that the climate had exhausted itself and retired for the season.

The gentleman on my left, a distinguished Dean of the Thistle, gave
me a few moments' discomfort by telling me that the old custom of
`rounds' of toasts still prevailed at Lady Baird's on formal
occasions, and that before the ladies retired every one would be
called upon for appropriate `sentiments.'

"What sort of sentiments?" I inquired, quite overcome with terror.