Johnny Tarleton, an ordinary young business man of thirty or less, is
taking his weekly Friday to Tuesday in the house of his father, John
Tarleton, who has made a great deal of money out of Tarleton\'s Underwear.
The house is in Surrey, on the slope of Hindhead; and Johnny, reclining,
novel in hand, in a swinging chair with a little awning above it, is
enshrined in a spacious half hemisphere of glass which forms a pavilion
commanding the garden, and, beyond it, a barren but lovely landscape of
hill profile with fir trees, commons of bracken and gorse, and wonderful
cloud pictures._
_The glass pavilion springs from a bridgelike arch in the wall of the
house, through which one comes into a big hall with tiled flooring, which
suggests that the proprietor\'s notion of domestic luxury is founded on the
lounges of week-end hotels. The arch is not quite in the centre of the
wall. There is more wall to its right than to its left, and this space is
occupied by a hat rack and umbrella stand in which tennis rackets, white
parasols, caps, Panama hats, and other summery articles are bestowed.
Just through the arch at this corner stands a new portable Turkish bath,
recently unpacked, with its crate beside it, and on the crate the drawn nails
and the hammer used in unpacking. Near the crate are open boxes of
garden games: bowls and croquet. Nearly in the middle of the glass
wall of the pavilion is a door giving on the garden, with a couple of steps
to surmount the hot-water pipes which skirt the glass. At intervals round
the pavilion are marble pillars with specimens of Viennese pottery on them,
very flamboyant in colour and florid in design. Between them are folded
garden chairs flung anyhow against the pipes. In the side walls are two
doors: one near the hat stand, leading to the interior of the house, the
other on the opposite side and at the other end, leading to the vestibule._