At 8 o’clock Fanny, Dora and I went to a jolly party at Sir John Awdry’s at Norton House. Almost everybody in the neighbourhood was there. There had been a children’s party with a Christmas Tree at 5 o’clock, but when we drove up the harp and the fiddles were going. I danced a Lancers with Harriet Awdry of Draycot Rectory, a quadrille with Sissy Awdry of Seagry Vicarage, a Lancers with Louise Awdry of Draycot Rectory, a Lancers with Mary Rooke of the Ivy, and Sir Roger with dear little Francie Rooke of the Ivy. How bright and pretty she looked, so merry, happy and full of fun. It was a grand Sir Roger. I never danced such a one. The room was quite full, two sets and such long lines, but the crush was all the more fun. ‘Here,’ said Francie Rooke to me quietly, with a wild, merrie sparkle in her eye, and her face brilliant with excitement, ‘let us go into the other set’. There was more fun going on there, Eliza Stiles had just fallen prostrate. There were screams of laughter and the dance was growing quite wild. There was a struggle for the corners and everyone wanted to be at the top. In a few minutes all order was lost, and everyone was dancing wildly and promiscuously with whoever came to hand. The dance grew wilder and wilder. ‘The pipers loud and louder blew, the dancers quick and quicker flew.’ Madder and madder screamed the flying fiddle bows. Sir Roger became a wild romp till the fiddles suddenly stopped dead and there was a scream of laughter. Oh, it was such fun and Francie Rooke was brilliant. When shall I have another such partner as Francie Rooke? << less