It is undeniable that a visitor of this sort (or even more than one) is an addition to the cheerfulness of a house in the country. It may, perhaps, be dangerous to his own peace of mind, or even, if he is frivolous, to the comfort of a daughter of the same, but so long as he is on these easy terms, with no definite understanding one way or the other, he is a pleasant addition. The least amiable of men is obliging and pleasant in such circumstances. He is on his promotion. His _raison d’être_ is his power of making himself agreeable. When he comes to have a definite position as an accepted lover, everything is changed again, and he may be as much in the way as he once was handy and desirable; but in his first stage he is always an addition, especially when the household is chiefly composed of women. Hamerton fell into this pleasant place with even more ease than usual. He was already so familiar with them all, that everything was natural in the arrangement. And Mrs. Lennox, there was no doubt, wished the young man well. It would not be a brilliant match, but it would be “quite satisfactory.” Had young Lord Elmore come a-wooing instead of Roland, that would have been, no doubt, more exciting. But Lord Elmore paid his homage in another direction, and his antecedents were not quite so good as Hamerton’s, who was one of those young men who have never given their parents an anxiety--a qualification which, it is needless to say, was dear above every other to Aunt Sophy’s heart. He was seated with them in the drawing-room at the Elms on an afternoon of November. It had been a day pleasant enough for the time of year, but not for hunting men--a clear frosty day, with ice in all the ditches, and the ground hard and resounding; a day when it is delightful to walk, though not to ride. Rosalind had met him strolling towards the house when she was out for her afternoon walk. Perhaps he was not so sorry for himself as he professed to the ladies. “I shall bore you to death,” he said; “I shall always be coming, for I see now we are in for a ten days’ frost, which is the most dolorous prospect--at least, it would be if I had not the Elms to fall back upon.” He made this prognostication of evil with a beaming face. “You seem on the whole to take it cheerfully,” Mrs. Lennox said. “Yes, with the Elms to fall back upon; I should not take it cheerfully otherwise.” “But you were here on Saturday, Roland, when the meet was at Barley Wood, and everybody was out,” cried little Sophy. “I don’t think you are half a hunting man. I shouldn’t miss a day if it were me; nor Reginald wouldn’t,” she added, with much indifference to grammar. “It is all the fault of the Elms,” the young man said, with a laugh. “I don’t know what you find at the Elms. Reginald says we are so dull here. I think so too--nothing but women; and you that have got two or three clubs and can go where you like.” “You shall go to the clubs, Sophy, instead of me.”