ion of the tennis-courts, and in course of time
you are allowed to return to the dry and spend the rest of the day in
borrowed clothes.
Everyone knows these Kubla Khans decreeing pleasure domes and enlarging
upon them in advance of the builders, and never are they so eloquent and
unmindful of rain and discomforts as when their listeners are poor and
condemned to a squalid London existence for ever.
But that is beside the mark. It is the naming of these new country seats
that leads to such difficulties.
That night at dinner the question arose again.
"As it is on the top of the hill," said a gentle wistful lady, "why not
call it 'Hill Top'? I'm sure I've seen that name before. It is expressive
and simple."
"So simple," said Buckler, "that my nearest neighbour has already
appropriated it."
"I suppose that would be an objection," said the lady, and we all agreed.
"Why not," said another guest, "call it 'The Summit'? or, more concisely,
just 'Summit'?"
"Or why not go further," said a frivolous voice, "and suggest hospitality
too--and Buckler's hospitality is notorious--by calling it 'Summit-to-
Eat'?"
Our silence was properly contemptuous of this sally.
"If you didn't like that you might call it 'Summit-to-Drink,'" the
frivolous voice impenitently continued. "Then you would get all the
Americans there too."
The voice's glass having been replenished (which, I fancy, was its inner
purpose) we became serious again.
"As it is on the top of the hill," said the first lady, "there will
probably be a view. Why not call it, for example, 'Bellevue'? 'Bellevue' is
a charming word."
"A little French, isn't it?" someone inquired.
"Oh, yes, it's French," she admitted. "But it's all right, isn't it? It's
quite nice French."
We assured her that, for a French phrase, it was singularly free from
impropriety.
"But of course," she said, "there's an Italian equivalent, 'Bella Vista.'
'Bella Vista' is delightful."
"I passed a 'Bella Vista' in Surbiton yesterday," said the frivolous voice,
"and an errand-boy had done his worst with it with a very black lead
pencil."
"What could he do?" the gentle lady asked wonderingly, with big violet eyes
distended.
"It is not for me to explain," said the frivolous voice; "but the final
vowel of the first word dissatisfied him and he substituted another. The
capabilities of errand-boys with pencil or chalk should never be lost sight
of when one is choosing a name for
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