When the great day came [the first public performance in England of an orchestral piece by Ethel Smyth] the excitement at home was immense, even Papa, who had never been at a real concert in his life, insisting on being present. The Serenade was admirably rendered, and since it was a first work, one could more or less count on a good reception; but regardless of how that might be, he had ready in his pocket a short telegram to Bob in India: "Great success," which no doubt would have been dispatched in any case.

I was not sitting in the hall myself, but afterwards learned what had occurred on the family benches.

No sooner was the first movement over than Papa rose to send off the telegram - and get away himself; pulled down by Mother, he attempted the same thing after the second, and again after the third movement. But after the fourth and last, having given up all hope, he remained patiently sitting, and thus had the gratification of seeing his daughter warmly called to the platform by that most delightful of audiences. I went home by a later train than the family, and when I met him before dinner he was beaming with delight, and said: "Well, you had quite a jobation."