I remember at a big function at Simla, when Colonel Chesney was being made a K.C.S.I. by Lord Ripon. Lord William had arranged for a number of us to be allowed into the holy of holies to watch the ceremony. We stood round the wall like well-behaved school children. His Excellency was announced, small, rotund and dignified in flowing robes of state, and walked up a strip of the inevitable red baize to his seat at the far end of the room. There was a good deal of ceremony about the proceedings. First one official walked a few steps and bowed to the occupant on the seat at the end of the red baize, then, after apparently counting something to himself, advanced a few more steps and bowed again, continuing this slow mode of progress until within a certain distance of His Excellency, when more characters took part, and my attention was diverted to one of the bowing individuals who was related to me, which made me more sensitive to the fact that one of his silk stockings was on wrong side out, and with every waft of air caused by his humble obeisances, little fluttering ends of silk streamed out behind the happily unconscious man, who, buttoned tightly into much gold lace, was fancying himself not a little. Those little flags fascinated me, and I was certain not one of them escaped Lord William’s eagle eye. I looked across the room to where he was carrying out his duties, but he was as grave as a judge, and so was I, indeed I flattered myself I was behaving very nicely, until I heard one of the daughters of the Commander-in-Chief, who was standing just behind me, whisper: “Look, he has got his stockings on wrong side out.” I then felt, with someone sharing my amusement, I must laugh and disgrace myself for ever. Fortunately more important developments taking place we forgot to watch the fluffy bits of silk. While being most punctilious about all things concerning his work, and the popularity of those he served, and in spite of his hard work, Lord William found time to amuse himself fairly well. I was at Government House one day when preparations were being made for a dance. Seeing the native servants deeply engrossed arranging a cosy dark corner, amongst some palms and curtains, I enquired what they were trying to do. They replied with many salaams that they were arranging a “Kissi Ka waste for Lord Brasspot-Sahib,” in English I suppose you would call it a quiet corner for two. All the natives were fond of Lord William, hence doubtless their anxiety to minister to his moods and emotions, arranging a little corner where a little kissing could be done in peace and quietness.