I began at once to give an afternoon reception every week and if it hadn’t been for my disagreeable, but capable, old Ah Sing I should have been in a constant turmoil of engagements with caterers and confectioners. As it was, I never had to give an order, really. “Reception Wednesday, Ah Sing,” was all that was necessary, and except for a glance now and then to see that the muchachos were giving the floors and the furniture a little extra polish on Wednesday morning, the only preparations I had to make for receiving two thousand people were to put on an embroidered muslin gown and compose myself.

These afternoon receptions were public, our only form of invitation being an “At Home” notice in the newspapers, and considering the unsettled state of Manila society in those days, it is really remarkable that we had so few unwelcome guests. There were a great many derelicts and generally disreputable people, both American and European, trying to better their fortunes or add to the excitement in our agitated community, but we suffered no unpleasant consequences from our open hospitality, though every Wednesday the Palace was thronged and every Wednesday many new faces appeared. Army and Navy people, civilians of every occupation and many foreigners⁠—Germans and British mostly⁠—came nearly always. I remember especially the first instalment of American school teachers. They were, for the most part, a fine lot of men and women who had come out with high hopes and ideals and an enthusiastic desire to pass them on. There were some pretty girls among them and a number of very clever looking men. I believe they used to enjoy my parties as much as anybody in Manila. They were homesick, no doubt, especially the girls, and I suppose the sight of so many friendly American faces cheered them up.