We visit the stables. The gates are magnificent, two lions sit on their tails, and guard shields on two huge pillars. After this effort, the owner seems to have got tired of the place and left it.

We notice this of every room, of various doors, of many windows.

[Ill.u.s.tration: DON VAMPA DI SCAMPO IN AN ARCHITECTURAL OPERA.]

Successive tenants have commenced with great ideas, which have, so to speak, vanished in perspective.

Boodels becomes melancholy. He says, "I should call this 'The House of Good Intentions.'"

I point out that these we are going to perfect and utilise.

A brilliant idea strikes me. I say--

_Happy Thought._--Let us call it, "Happy-Thought Hall." I add that this will look well on the top of note-paper.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER VI.

CHOOSING A PARTY.

ROOMS--DECISION--ODD MEN--RETURN--ARRANGEMENTS--THEORIES--OBJECTION --PROPOSITIONS--ELECTIONS--THE LADIES--WHO'S HOST?--GUESTS--HOSTESS --MORE PROPOSALS--GRANDMOTHERS--AUNTS--HALFSISTERS--SISTERHOOD PROPOSED--GRAND IDEA--CHAPERONS--TERMS--IDEAL--A PROFESSION--A DEFECT--OR ADVANTAGE--ADDITIONAL ATTRACTIONS--OLD MAN--DULNESS-- THEATRICAL--PLANS--THE PRESIDENT--EXPLANATION--IDEA.

There are, it appears, sixteen bed-rooms in the house, independently of servants' rooms.

The question is, How shall we decide?

_Happy Thought._--Toss up.

We do so. The "odd man" to toss again, and so on. I am the last odd man.

Boodels chooses the room with the stain on the floor. He says he prefers it.

We drive back to Station. Thoughtful and sleepy journey.

Chilvern is to arrange all details as to fitting up and furnishing.

This, he says, he can do, inexpensively and artistically, in a couple of weeks' time.

Milburd points out clearly to us that the old woman in charge evidently doesn't want to be turned out, and so invented the ghost. We all think it highly probable, except Boodels, who says he doesn't see why there shouldn't be a ghost. We don't dispute it.

The next thing is to make up a party. Cazell tells us "what we ought to do." "We ought," he says, "to form ourselves into a committee, and ask so many people."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU OUGHT TO DO."]

We meet in the evening to choose our party. Rather difficult to propose personal friends, whom every one of us will like. We agree that we must be outspoken, and if we don't like a guest proposed, we must say so, and, as it were, blackball him.

Or _her_?--This remark leads to the question, Are there to be any ladies? Boodels says decidedly, Yes.

Chilvern, putting it artistically, says, "We want a bit of colour in a house like that."

Cazell wants to know who is to be the host. Boodels proposes me.

I accept the position; but what am I _exactly_? that's what I must clearly understand.

Milburd explains--a sort of president of a Domestic Republic.

Very good. Then how about the ladies?

Chilvern says we must have a hostess. We all suppose, doubtfully, that we must. I ask, Won't that interfere with our arrangements?

Boodels replies, that "we can't have any arrangements without a hostess." He says, after some consideration, that he has got a Grandmother who might be useful. Chilvern, deferentially, proposes an Aunt of his own, but does not, as it were, press her upon us, on account of some infirmities of temper. I've got a half-sister who was a widow about the time I was born, and if she's not in India ....

On the whole we think that if Boodels would have no objection to his grandmother coming.....

"Not in the least," says Boodels. "I think she can stand a fortnight of it or so."

Carried nem. con. Boodels' grandmother to be lent for three weeks, and to be returned safely.

_Happy Thought (to suggest to ladies)._--Why shouldn't there be a sisterhood of chaperons? Let somebody start it. "Oh!" says a young lady, "I can't go there wherever it is, because I can't go alone, and I haven't got a chaperon."

Now carry out the idea. The young lady goes to The Home (this sort of establishment is always a Home--possibly because people to be hired are never _not_ at home),--well, she goes to the Home, sees the lady superioress or manageress, who asks her what sort of a chaperon she wants. She doesn't exactly know; but say, age about 50, cheerful disposition, polished manners.

Good. Down comes photograph book.

Young lady inspects chaperons and selects one.

She comes downstairs. "Is she," asks the lady manageress, "to be dressed for evening or for day, a fete or for what?"

Well then, that's all settled.

Terms, so much an hour, and something for herself. What the French call a _pour boire_.

This is a genuinely good idea, and one to be adopted, I am sure. What an excellent profession for ladies of good family and education, of a certain age, and an uncertain income.

They might form a Social Beguinage, on the model of the one at Ghent. No vows. All sorts of dresses. All sorts of feeding. Respectable address.

And a Home.

Boodels' grandmother, it turns out, is deaf.

Here again what a recommendation for a chaperon! and how very few employments are open to deaf people. No harmless, bodily ailment would disqualify, except a violent cold and sneezing.

A chaperon with a song: useful. Consider this idea in futuro. Put it down and a.s.sist the others in our list.

We ought to make our company a good salad.

I propose my friend, Jenkyns Soames.