Rory is doing yeoman's work at the DAR reception. She is wearing a skirt I find questionable, but I can't complain too much. I just am against the box pleats on even the thinnest, is all. If you have any hips whatsoever, they give an effect that is both boxy and bloated. Rory is alarmed to find that the salmon puffs are almost depleted, and worries that she should have "staggered their release." She even has a little party notebook in her pocket, which I find kind of charming, except that the rest of this scene is so painfully annoying that I want to selectively wipe it off my Tivo. Passing another waiter, Rory is upset to see that his tray contains garnish. "My grandmother hates garnish," she says, grabbing the offending sprig and stuffing it in her pocket. She goes on to mingle with the guests, making excruciating jokes and small talk, and wanders over to find a group of folks, including Nora, the English woman from a couple of weeks ago, talking in front of a painting of George Washington. She says that if Gilbert Stuart were alive today, "[she] would absolutely commission him to paint a portrait of [her] Henry." Some random art guy says that Martha Washington had the same idea when she commissioned Stuart to paint portraits of her and her husband to hang at Mt. Vernon. A very beautiful DAR member leans in to inform Professor Plum, or whoever he is, that Henry is not Nora's husband, but her Springer spaniel. I'd like to make fun of this, but the portrait of my late dog (no, really) hanging directly above me at this moment will not allow me to do so. Don't judge me, internet. Everybody is finding Rory to be "just darling," but she is starting to sweat. Some other ladies are admiring a plant on the veranda, and Rory can't name it but promises to ask Emily. She takes her notebook out of her pocket to make a note to remind herself, and garnish flies everywhere. Oops.