_Happy Thought._--Submit this to Chilvern, my architectural friend. I say, Estimate it roughly. He does it, after a day or so. _Rough Estimate._ About £8,000. "That," I say, a little staggered, "is rather _over_ the mark than under it, eh?" [Illustration: CHILVERN.] "_Over?_ No," he replies, "_Under._ I mean, of course, to have everything done well, thoroughly well. Of course," says he, "there are men who will run you up a house in a few weeks and charge you about £4,000. But what's the result? Why you're always repairing, and it costs you, in the end, double what you'd have paid for having it thoroughly well done at first." I ask how long the building would take? Chilvern is of opinion that it would be six months at the least. Then I say I'll give it up. I wanted it for Christmas. Then the notion of the party must be abandoned. _Happy Thought._--An abandoned party! Dreadful character. Boodels says he's sorry for that, as he can't go into his own house just now, it being under repair. Cazell suddenly exclaims, "I tell you what we ought to do!" We listen. He goes on. "We ought to take a house for the Winter Season, the lot of us together, and then ask our own friends." Boodels observes, that, if we agree to this, he will supply some servants, as _his_ are doing nothing. Chilvern can tell us where there's a place to be let. Just what we want, about an hour's train from town. Queer old mansion, a bit out of trim, he tells us, in fact he was going to have had the job of restoring it, only the people suddenly left; but he'd put that to rights. Would we go and look at it? Carried nem. con. CHAPTER II. NOTIONS--GUIDE WANTED--BLACKMEER--CHILVERN--HIS ELEMENT--VIEWS-- OBSERVATIONS--DISCUSSIONS--FISHING--TROUT--SHROPSHIRE--THE LAKE-- THE SOLITARY CASTLE--HERMITS--GAMES--DIFFERENCES--AT THE HOUSE. We go down. Hertfordshire. I find on inquiry that there is no Guide to this county. Black ignores it, Murray knows nothing about it, and Bradshaw is silent on the subject. _Happy Thought._--While at Our Mansion write a Guide to Hertfordshire. Arrived at the station we inquire for Blackmeer Hall. Six or seven miles to drive. I ask if this distance isn't against it? I am met by the unanimous answer, "Not at all." Chilvern points out the beauties of the road as we go along. We become silent, not liking to have things perpetually pushed under our notice, as if we couldn't see them for ourselves. "There's a fine bit," he says, pointing to a gate. We nod. "Aren't the colours of the trees lovely?" he asks. We agree with him. For the sake of argument, I observe that I've seen finer. "Where?" he inquires. I don't know at this moment _where_, but, being on my mettle, I am certain that I _have_ seen finer. _Happy Thought._--In Derbyshire. He pooh-poohs the notion of Derbyshire. Then he continues giving us bits of useful information, like a disjointed lecture.