While on this subject it may be well to remark that the same rule applies to all visits, even what are called “morning” visits—calls made because they must be made more than with the idea of any pleasure to be evolved therefrom. The temptation to remain too long in such cases is, of course, not great, but it does not follow necessarily that the visitor goes just when she ought. Shyness, a sort of difficulty in finding the right moment in which to get up and say good-bye, perhaps sometimes a feeling that you have seemed stupid and dull, and that you must try and sparkle somewhat before you go, to take away the bad impression given of your abilities; all sorts of little under-currents common to human nature seem at times to hamper people and make them do _gauche_ things, among them being that of sitting on when they ought to leave. Even if you are with a friend, not an ordinary acquaintance, and have lunched with her, it is better to make a move to depart soon after; for although you may have nothing particular to do that day, she may have, and in London especially there is such a pressure of things which must be got through somehow that few of us can afford to let our afternoon slip away, and with it the chance of seeing such a person, going to such a shop, writing important letters, etc., etc. Now I will return to the country house, to make a few observations, this time not to the visitors, but to the visited; and, as I have all through my articles tried to make it clear that I do not address myself to people who live in luxury, I wish to repeat that fact, and to say that I have not “in my mind’s eye” a magnificent castle with everything to match, but a house on a modest scale and establishment ditto. You, inhabiting a nice, comfortable abode of the kind, have bidden some guests to come and stay; perhaps for an “At Home” in the neighbourhood, perhaps with no special object in view; but the country is pretty, they can walk or “bike,” and there is the pony-carriage and possibly a dog-cart, useful for men in the shooting-season. Well, first I hope you have not asked too many, for, except in the case of very young girls who have scarcely been out anywhere, and to whom a gathering means Elysium, never mind what inconveniences in the shape of an over full house—sofas to sleep upon and hardly room to dress in—are attached to it, nobody likes discomfort, and cramming ten people in where there is only space for eight, or less, does not conduce to comfort. Besides, too many guests means too few servants for the unwonted crowd, and consequently work has to be hurried through and, in artistic parlance, “scamped.”