"I'm taking Madeline to see Miss Belvoir. She has rather amusing afternoons. Her brother, Fred Belvoir, whom she lives with, is a curious sort of celebrity. When he went down from Oxford they had a sort of funeral procession because he was so popular. He's known on every race-course; he's a great hunting man, an authority on musical comedy, and is literary too--he writes for _Town Topics_. Miss Belvoir is the most good-natured woman in the world, and so intensely hospitable that she asks everyone to lunch or dinner the first time she meets them, and sometimes without having been introduced, and she asks everyone to bring their friends. They have a charming flat on the Thames Embankment and a dear little country house called The Lurch, where her brother often leaves her. They're mad on private theatricals, too, and are always dressing up." "It sounds rather fun," said Madeline. "Not very exclusive," suggested her mother. "No, not a bit. But it's great fun," said Bertha, "and I've heard people say that you can be as exclusive as you like at Miss Belvoir's by bringing your own set and talking only to them. People who go to her large parties often don't know her by sight; she's so lost in the crowd, and she never remembers anybody, or knows them again. To be ever so little artistic is a sufficient passport to be asked to the Belvoirs'. In fact if a brother-in-law of a friend of yours once sent an article to a magazine which was not inserted, or if your second cousin once met Tree at a party, and was not introduced to him, that is quite sufficient to make you a welcome guest there. Now that my little brother-in-law has written a poem, I shall have a _raison d'etre_ in being there. You'll see, Madeline, you'll enjoy yourself." CHAPTER XXVII ANOTHER ANONYMOUS LETTER "Oh, Bertha, I've heard from Rupert again," said Madeline, as they drove along. "I saw you'd had a letter from that talented young cul-de-sac," replied Bertha. "What do you mean?" "Nothing. I didn't mean anything. I like to tease you, and you must confess that he's the sort of man--well, nothing ever seems to get much forrarder with him! What does he say?" "It's just the sort of letter he wrote long before he ever dreamt of proposing to me." "Well, I think that's rather a good sign. He's reassumed his early manner. I believe he's going to work his way up all over again--all through the beaten paths, and ignore the incident that hurt his vanity, and then propose again. We may have rather fun here to-day. Sometimes there are only a few fly-blown celebrities, and sometimes there are very new beginners without a future, debutantes who will never _debuter_, singers who can't sing, actors who never have any engagements, and editors who are just thinking of bringing out a paper. Miss Belvoir collects people who are unknown but prominent, noticeable and yet obscure. Here we are." * * * * *