Let us now suppose that a quantity of additional pressing took place—­that the nephews offered to go along as Christmas was coming—­that Harry sent home another note to say ’he thought he might go’—­and that long before it reached the cottage, he was installed at the house of Mr Grindley in London, who, as his nephew promised, divided a capital legal business with his partner Mr Blackmore.

The proverb which says, ‘Out of sight out of mind,’ was by this time in course of being fulfilled as regarded the good woman at the cottage.  In the revival of old associations his college-friend partially forgot that Harry was a family man, and the easy gentleman himself never thought of intruding the circumstance on people’s notice.  To do him justice, he had a remarkably single look; all his acquaintances called him Harry Phipps.  It was therefore no marvel that the unsuspecting household of Blackmore received him as a bachelor.

The papa of it was a hard-witted, busy lawyer; the mamma an excessively fine lady; and the four daughters pretty, accomplished, fashionable-looking girls, from twenty-two—­their mamma said seventeen—­upwards, who judiciously came out in different lines; for Miss Blackmore was metaphysical, Miss Caroline sentimental, Miss Maria fast, and Miss Clementina musical.  Between the last mentioned and Charles Lacy a strong and not discouraged flirtation was in progress, which afforded Harry better than ordinary opportunities for cultivating that domestic circle.  It was not every day he would have such a house to call at, and Harry did his best to be popular.  He hunted up high-life gossip for Mrs Blackmore; he admired the solicitor’s law-stories after dinner; he was the humble servant of all the young ladies in turn, but his chief devoirs were paid to the fast Maria.  The reason was that the fast Maria would have it so.  She thought him, it is true—­as she said once to a confidential friend—­a sort of goosey-goosey-gander, but he polked capitally, was a personable fellow—­and Maria was a spinster.  Christmas was coming, and Harry stood high in favour with all the Blackmores.  The senior miss found out that he had a philosophic mind; Miss Caroline said she knew there was a little romance about him—­he had been disappointed in first-love or something; and Charles Lacy had an intuitive suspicion that the old people would soon begin to inquire regarding his income and prospects.  The idea was excessively amusing, but yet somewhat alarming.  He thought Harry was carrying it on too far—­he was.  Hadn’t he better give Clementina a hint?  But then Clementina would think he ought to have done so long ago.  Charles was puzzled, and he did not like to be puzzled.  He would have nothing more to do with it.  He would wash his hands of it.  How was he obliged to know that they were not aware of Harry’s being tied up?  The whole thing was really uncomfortable, and he did not like anything that was uncomfortable.  He would take Harry to task for his enormity, and then think no more about it.  Meditating thus, he entered Mrs Blackmore’s drawing-room one forenoon early enough to find mamma and the young ladies hard at Berlin wool—­they were finishing Christmas presents—­all but Maria, for whose amusement Harry was turning over a volume of sporting prints at a little table by themselves.