It cannot be right for young people to see their parents and friends cheating the law every day of their lives. And which of them think of cheering up the poor, who presumably get as tired from their work as the idle get from their pleasures! What I have said upon every platform and which Lord Lee, in a generous desire to defend the youth of this country, denies, is not "cruel, ludicrous, and untrue," but a platitude. I have received signed letters from every quarter of the country thanking me for expressing my opinion, and will quote from one of them: "_New York City_, March 9, 1922. "MADAM, "If you wish for very substantial proof of the exactitude of your remark that maidens get drunk at dances, all you have to do is to send someone, unobtrusively, to [I am not going to give the name of the place] to obtain from the waiters and waitresses an account of the lamentable condition in which scores of the girls were taken home after two recent balls held in the Hotel ----, one of the most fashionable hotels in the suburbs of New York. "It was not the fault of the management, and I am told no more dances of the sort will be permitted there. "I am a very disgusted sister of one of the young girls, and am trying hard to dissuade her from accepting intoxicants at these parties. Yours, etc." [I will not publish the signature.] This is only one of many letters I have received on the same subject. After the _New York Times_ had published Lord Lee's statement and I had made my position perfectly clear, I was sent a press cutting, from what paper I do not know. "Margot Lines Up with Foes of Prohibition: she has swung round to the anti-prohibitionists." This is characteristic of the inaccuracy of the American press. Editors do not distinguish between half notes and full shouts, but no one need take this seriously as crime and headlines will soon make their readers forget either what Lord Lee has said, or I have controverted. On the 10th my daughter Elizabeth took me to a fashionable charity fete in a large New York ballroom, where I heard my son-in-law speak for the first time. I envied him his self-possession; for, though I am told that my demeanor does not betray me, I am so nervous before the so-called "lectures" that I eat nothing, and so exhausted after, that the mildest meal gives me indigestion. Having suffered from audiences that, while more than appreciative, seldom clap, Mrs. Frank Polk and I were determined that Antoine Bibesco should not experience the same embarrassment. Our friendly intentions were frustrated, however, as everything he said was received with enthusiasm. His handsome face and fine manners, and the popularity of his wife (though it is not usual to praise one's daughter) have made them much loved in this hospitable country. On leaving the entertainment I was way-laid by a female reporter: