Thursday. 95 Sloane Street. My dear dear Father. I am so sorry for you, you poor dear! I daresay you are rather enjoying being ill, but still it's an absurd way to spend your holiday and I'm dreadfully disappointed that you and Mother are not arriving here tonight! But do take care, and don't go to Middlesbrough with your temperature at Heaven knows where for I'm sure that is why you were feverish for weeks afterwards last time. Please listen to the good advice of your family! I went up to the Musee this morning and read a Persian life of Hafez with a Latin crib. I think I got at the meaning of it with the help of a Persian dictionary, but a Latin translation is not so clear to me as it might be. It was awfully windy bicycling this morning, but now the wind has dropped and I hope the warm weather has come back. I didn't go to Lady Pollock's on Tuesday, because I had promised to go to a party at Audley Sq and I couldn't combine the two unchaperoned. Audley Sq was amusing - Mr Waldegrave and all my bicycling party of the night before were there, and Horace, and Lady Colvile and Agnes Peel and many others. I had a long talk with Cecilia Roberts who was then looking quite different from everybody else, with her hair dragged back very tight, but with quite a nice dress on, which Lady Morpeth told us with pride she had ordered for her at her own dressmaker's. Cecilia was rather annoyed "Oh please don't mention it." she said! I like her, hair and all. She told me Lady Carlisle is very ill and is coming up to London to make a cure. Lord Carlisle came here this afternoon and asked for Mother and for me, but I had gone to see Mrs Poynter. I was very sorry not to have seen him. Walter came to tea, I showed him my bicycle and he highly approved. Mrs Poynter has had influenza and been very bad. She had just come back from the country and still looks white. Mrs Alma Tadema and Mrs F. Macmillan came in while I was there. Mrs Macmillan begged me to come and see her on a Friday and I thanked her kindly, but I don't much like her for all that. Yesterday morning I took a holiday and went to the Foreign Office with the Tyrrells to see the Trooping of the Colour. There was a blizzard of dust, and even a little rain, and a very cold wind: we thanked Providence we were safely indoors. I was much amused - it's a very fine show (I had never seen it before) and there were a lot of people at the party - Russells, little Mr Balfour and some Stracheys etc. But the weather yesterday was past words nasty.
I am going down to Caroline at Hayes (in Kent!) for Whitsuntide. I want to bicycle down on Saturday if I can get an escort, it's only 17 miles and send my luggage by train. London is beginning to feel very Whitsuntidy.

Beatrice Clementi came to see me this afternoon just before I went out. She is buying her trousseau! She is to be married in November. The future father in law had been duly informed and has given no sign of any kind. I hope it may all turn out all right. The fiancé is coming back to England and they are to be married at Wheathampstead. I am very glad.

A Blue Book has arrived for Mother.

Love to you both and please get well quickly - it makes me very unhappy when you have anything the matter with you. Ever your affectionate daughter Gertrude