‘By kind permission of the Lady Gundred Darnley, the Mothers’ Educational Union--called for short the M.E.U.--held a most enjoyable meeting at 53, Grosvenor Street. The hostess’s demeanour gave great satisfaction, and her gown was held to shed real lustre on the occasion. It was a wonderful arrangement in blue and mauve, and no other woman of her age could have worn it; but the delicacy of her colouring, the serene charm of her features, were only enhanced by it, and the mothers from Kensington and Campden Hill spent a happy hour in devising means of copying its most successful features. Meanwhile, an American spinster, of world-wide renown but unappetizing appearance, gave an interesting and exhaustive address on the proper upbringing of children; and a Bishop’s wife in voluminous black brocade, with a bonnet built of bluebells, brought up the rear with an account of how her own darlings had been triumphantly reared on a system of perfect freedom tempered by whippings administered officially by each other. A discussion followed, in which old maids and childless widows vied with the mothers in expounding the secrets of education. The Lady Gundred Darnley herself contributed a brief but very pleasant little allocution, in which she insisted on the efficacy of prayer, and attributed her own success in dealing with her dear little son entirely to her inculcation of sound religious principles.’ Gundred was at the height of her glory; her graciousness was delightful, her condescension so profound that neither she herself nor anyone else could guess that it was condescension at all. When the meeting had concluded in a volley of mutual compliments, and a unanimous vote of thanks had been offered to their charming hostess, she shepherded the mothers down to food with the sublimest cordiality. The iced coffee flowed like milk and honey; tea was nothing accounted of, any more than was silver in King Solomon’s time. Eclairs, sandwiches, and buns disappeared like snow in summer; of every dish Gundred felt a calm confidence that each mother present was eyeing it carefully with a view to imitation. Of all life’s duties, Gundred perhaps best loved that of setting an example to others. She felt that the Creator had specially ordained her for that end, and was never so completely and conscientiously happy as when possessed with the certainty that she was duly fulfilling His design.