“Then we might be very comfortable here,” said Euphemia.

They went downstairs again.  By that time it was thundering and raining heavily.  The rooms were dark and gloomy.  The big side door, which would not shut unless locked from the outside, swayed and banged as the gusts of wind swept round the house.  But they had a good time in the front kitchen, playing cricket with an umbrella and the agent’s order crumpled into a ball.  Presently the artistic house-hunter lifted Euphemia on to the tall dresser, and they sat there swinging their feet patiently until the storm should leave off and release them.

“I should feel in this kitchen,” said Euphemia, “like one of my little dolls must have felt in the dolls’-house kitchen I had once.  The top of her head just reached the level of the table.  There were only four plates on the dresser, but each was about half her height across——­”

“Your reminiscences are always entertaining,” said the artistic house-hunter; “still they fail to explain the absorbing mystery of this house being to let at L40 a year.”  The problem raised his curiosity, but though he made inquiries he found no reason for the remarkably low rent or the continued emptiness of the house.  It was a specimen puzzle for the house-hunter.  A large house with a garden of about half an acre, and with accommodation for about six families, going begging for L40 a year.  Would it let at eighty?  Some such problem, however, turns up in every house-hunt, and it is these surprises that give the sport its particular interest and delight.  Always provided the mind is not unsettled by any ulterior notion of settling down.

OF BLADES AND BLADERY

The Blade is not so much a culture as a temperament, and Bladery—­if the thing may have the name—­a code of sentiments rather than a ritual.  It is the rococo school of behaviour, the flamboyant gentleman, the gargoyle life.  The Blade is the tribute innocence pays to vice.  He may look like a devil and belong to a church.  And the clothing of the Blade, being symbolical, is a very important part of him.  It must show not only a certain tastiness, but also decision in the accent, courage in the pattern, and a Dudley Hardihood of outline.  A Blade must needs take the colour of his social standing, but all Blades have the same essential qualities.  And all Blades have this quality, that they despise and contemn other Blades from the top downward. (But where the bottommost Blade comes no man can tell.)

A well-bred Blade—­though he be a duke—­tends to wear his hat tilted a little over the right eyebrow, and a piece of hair is pulled coquettishly down just below the brim.  His collar is high, and a very large bow is worn slightly askew.  This may be either cream-coloured or deep blue, with spots of white, or it may be red, or buff, but not green, because of badinage.  The Blade of the middle class displays