ABSTRACT
IN the grounds of an exceedingly quaint old manor-house in Buckinghamshire a tennis party was in full swing. A local band was playing a waltz under a beech tree near the river that ran through the grounds and was stocked with trout; a fanciful white bridge crossed it, and led to the hothouses and another tennis court; one could see the white flannels of the men, and the blue of a woman’s gown through a clump of pollard willows. Men and maids brought round champagne cup, and fruit, and silver baskets of sweets; tea was served in the hall of the old house. Mrs. Straker-Ellis’s monthly garden parties were very pleasant; people from town, fagged at the end of the season, were glad to escape from the dust and heat for an afternoon in the shade. They afforded the county people of limited means glimpses of town and fashion, in the shape of minor celebrities of the world of literature or art.
