The only plates that can possibly be brought into the dining-room one in each hand are for the hors d'oeuvres, soup and dessert. The first two plates are placed on others which have not been removed, and the dessert plates need merely be put down on the tablecloth. But the plates of every other course have to be exchanged and therefore each individual service requires two hands. Soup plates, two at a time, would better not be attempted by any but the expert and sure-handed, as it is in placing one plate, while holding the other aloft that the mishap of "soup poured down some one's back" occurs! If only one plate of soup is brought in at a time, that accident at least cannot happen. In the same way the spoon and fork on the dessert plate can easily fall off, unless it is held level. "Two plates at a time" therefore is not a question of etiquette, but of the servant's skill.

Plate Removed When Fork Is Laid Down Once upon a time it was actually considered impolite to remove a single plate until the last guest at the table had finished eating! In other days people evidently did not mind looking at their own dirty plates indefinitely, nor could they have minded sitting for hours at table. Good service to-day requires the removal of each plate as soon as the fork is laid upon it; so that by the time the last fork is put down, the entire table is set with clean plates and is ready for the next course.

!DOUBLE SERVICE AND THE ORDER OF TABLE PRECEDENCE!

At every well-ordered dinner, there should be a double service for ten or twelve persons; that is, no hot dish should, if avoidable, be presented to more than six, or nine at the outside. At a dinner of twelve, for instance, two dishes each holding six portions, are garnished exactly alike and presented at opposite ends of the table. One to the lady on the right of the host, and the other to the lady at the opposite end of the table. The services continue around to the right, but occasional butlers direct that after serving the "lady of honor" on the right of the host, the host is skipped and the dish presented to the lady on his left, after which the dish continues around the table to the left, to ladies and gentlemen as they come. In this event the second service starts opposite the lady of honor and also skips the first gentleman, after which it goes around the table to the left, skips the lady of honor and ends with the host. The first service when it reaches the other end of the table skips the lady who was first served and ends with the gentleman who was skipped.

It is perhaps more polite to the ladies to give them preference, but it is complicated, and leaves another gentleman as well as the host, sitting between two ladies who are eating while he is apparently forgotten. The object (which is to prevent the lady who is second in precedence from being served last) can be accomplished by beginning the first service from the lady on the right of the host and continuing on the right 6 places; the second service begins with the lady on the left of the host and continues on the left five places, and then comes back to the host. The best way of all, perhaps, is to vary the "honor" by serving the entree and salad courses first to the lady on the left instead of to the lady on the right and continue the service of these two courses to the left.

A dinner of eighteen has sometimes two services, but if very perfect, three. Where there are three services they start with the lady of honor and the sixth from her on either side and continue to the right.

!FILLING GLa.s.sES!

As soon as the guests are seated and the first course put in front of them, the butler goes from guest to guest on the right hand side of each, and asks "Apollinaris or plain water!" and fills the goblet accordingly. In the same way he asks later before pouring wine: "Cider, sir?" "Grape fruit cup, madam?" Or in a house which has the remains of a cellar, "Champagne?" or "Do you care for whiskey and soda, sir?"

But the temperature and service of wines which used to be an essential detail of every dinner have now no place at all. Whether people will offer frapped cider or some other iced drink in the middle of dinner, and a warmed something else to take the place of claret with the fish, remains to be seen. A water gla.s.s standing alone at each place makes such a meager and untrimmed looking table that most people put on at least two wine gla.s.ses, sherry and champagne, or claret and sherry, and pour something pinkish or yellowish into them. A rather popular drink at present is an equal mixture of white grape-juice and ginger ale with mint leaves and much ice. Those few who still have cellars, serve wines exactly as they used to, white wine, claret, sherry and Burgundy warm, champagne ice cold; and after dinner, green mint poured over crushed ice in little gla.s.ses, and other liqueurs of room temperature. Whiskey is always poured at the table over ice in a tall tumbler, each gentleman "saying when" by putting his hand out. The gla.s.s is then filled with soda or Apollinaris.

As soon as soup is served the parlor-maid or a footman pa.s.ses a dish or a basket of dinner rolls. If rolls are not available, bread cut in about two-inch-thick slices, is cut cross-ways again in three. An old-fashioned silver cake basket makes a perfect modern bread-basket. Or a small wicker basket that is shallow and inconspicuous will do. A guest helps himself with his fingers and lays the roll or bread on the tablecloth, always. No bread plates are ever on a table where there is no b.u.t.ter, and no b.u.t.ter is ever served at a dinner. Whenever there is no bread left at any one's place at table, more should be pa.s.sed. The gla.s.ses should also be kept filled.

!PRESENTING DISHES!

Dishes are presented held flat on the palm of the servant's right hand; every hot one must have a napkin placed as a pad under it. An especially heavy meat platter can be steadied if necessary by holding the edge of the platter with the left hand, the fingers protected from being burned by a second folded napkin.

Each dish is supplied with whatever implements are needed for helping it; a serving spoon (somewhat larger than an ordinary tablespoon) is put on all dishes and a fork of large size is added for fish, meat, salad and any vegetables or other dishes that are hard to help. String beans, braised celery, spinach en branche, etc., need a fork and spoon. Asparagus has various special lifters and tongs, but most people use the ordinary spoon and fork, putting the spoon underneath and the fork, p.r.o.ngs down, to hold the stalks on the spoon while being removed to the plate. Corn on the cob is taken with the fingers, but is never served at a dinner party. A galantine or mousse, as well as peas, mashed potatoes, rice, etc., are offered with a spoon only.

!THE SERVING TABLE!

The serving table is an ordinary table placed in the corner of the dining-room near the door to the pantry, and behind a screen, so that it may not be seen by the guests at table. In a small dining-room where s.p.a.ce is limited, a set of shelves like a single bookcase is useful.

The serving table is a halfway station between the dinner table and the pantry. It holds stacks of cold plates, extra forks and knives, and the finger bowls and dessert plates. The latter are sometimes put out on the sideboard, if the serving table is small or too crowded.

At little informal dinners all dishes of food after being pa.s.sed are left on the serving table in case they are called upon for a second helping. But at formal dinners, dishes are never pa.s.sed twice, and are therefore taken direct to the pantry after being pa.s.sed.

!CLEARING TABLE FOR DESSERT!

At dinner always, whether at a formal one, or whether a member of the family is alone, the salad plates, or the plates of whatever course precedes dessert, are removed, leaving the table plateless. The salt cellars and pepper pots are taken off on the serving tray (without being put on any napkin or doily, as used to be the custom), and the crumbs are brushed off each place at table with a folded napkin onto a tray held under the table edge. A silver crumb sc.r.a.per is still seen occasionally when the tablecloth is plain, but its hard edge is not suitable for embroidery and lace, and ruinous to a bare table, so that a napkin folded to about the size and thickness of an iron-holder is the crumb-sc.r.a.per of to-day.

!DESSERT!

The captious say "dessert means the fruit and candy which come after the ices." "Ices" is a misleading word too, because suggestive of the individual "ices" which flourished at private dinners in the Victorian age, and still survive at public dinners, suppers at b.a.l.l.s, and at wedding breakfasts, but which are seen at not more than one private dinner in a thousand--if that.

In the present world of fashion the "dessert" is ice-cream, served in one mold; not ices (a lot of little frozen images). And the refusal to call the "sweets" at the end of the dinner, which certainly include ice cream and cake, "dessert," is at least not the interpretation of either good usage or good society. In France, where the word "dessert" originated, "ices" were set apart from dessert merely because French chefs delight in designating each item of a meal as a separate course. But chefs and cook-books notwithstanding, dessert means everything sweet that comes at the end of a meal. And the great American dessert is ice cream--or pie. Pie, however, is not a "company" dessert. Ice cream on the other hand is the inevitable conclusion of a formal dinner. The fact that the spoon which is double the size of a teaspoon is known as nothing but a dessert spoon, is offered in further proof that "dessert" is "spoon" and not "finger" food!

Dessert Service There are two, almost equally used, methods of serving dessert. The first or "hotel method," also seen in many fashionable private houses, is to put on a china plate for ice cream or a first course, and the finger bowl on a plate by itself, afterwards. In the "private house" service, the entire dessert paraphernalia is put on at once.

In detail: In the two-course, or hotel, service, the "dessert" plate is of china, or if of gla.s.s, it must have a china one under it. A china dessert plate is just a fairly deep medium sized plate and it is always put on the table with a "dessert" spoon and fork on it. After the inevitable ice cream has been eaten, a fruit plate with a finger bowl on it, is put on in exchange. A doily goes under the finger bowl, and a fruit knife and fork on either side.

In the single course, or private house, service, the ice cream plate is of gla.s.s and belongs under the finger bowl which it matches. The gla.s.s plate and finger bowl in turn are put on the fruit plate with a doily between, and the dessert spoon and fork go on either side of the finger bowl (instead of the fruit knife and fork). This arrangement of plates is seen in such houses as the Worldlys' and the Oldnames', and in fact in most very well done houses. The finger bowls and gla.s.s plates that match make a prettier service than the finger bowl on a china plate by itself; also it eliminates a change--but not a removal--of plates. In this service, a guest lifts the finger bowl off and eats his ice cream on the gla.s.s plate, after which the gla.s.s plate is removed and the china one is left for fruit.

Some people think this service confusing because an occasional guest, in lifting off the finger bowl, lifts the gla.s.s plate too, and eats his dessert on his china plate. It is merely necessary for the servants to notice at which place the china plate has been used and to bring a clean one; otherwise a "cover" is left with a gla.s.s plate or a bare tablecloth for fruit. Also any one taking fruit must have a fruit knife and fork brought to him. Fruit is pa.s.sed immediately after ice-cream; and chocolates, conserves, or whatever the decorative sweets may be, are pa.s.sed last.

This single service may sound as though it were more complicated than the two-course service, but actually it is less. Few people use the wrong plate and usually the ice-cream plates having others under them can be taken away two at a time. Furthermore, scarcely any one takes fruit, so that the extra knives and forks are few, if any.

Before finishing dessert, it may be as well to add in detail, that the finger bowl doiley is about five or six inches in diameter; it may be round or square, and of the finest and sheerest needlework that can be found (or afforded). It must always be cream or white. Colored embroideries look well sometimes on a country lunch table but not at dinner. No matter where it is used, the finger bowl is less than half filled with cold water; and at dinner parties, a few violets, sweet peas, or occasionally a gardenia, is put in it. (A slice of lemon is never seen outside of a chop-house where eating with the fingers may necessitate the lemon in removing grease. Pretty thought!) Black coffee is never served at a fashionable dinner table, but is brought afterwards with cigarettes and liqueurs into the drawing-room for the ladies, and with cigars, cigarettes and liqueurs into the smoking room for the gentlemen.

If there is no smoking-room, coffee and cigars are brought to the table for the gentlemen after the ladies have gone into the drawing-room.

!PLACE CARDS!

The place cards are usually about an inch and a half high by two inches long, sometimes slightly larger. People of old family have their crest embossed in plain white; occasionally an elderly hostess, following a lifelong custom, has her husband's crest stamped in gold. Nothing other than a crest must ever be engraved on a place card; and usually they are plain, even in the houses of old families.

Years ago "hand-painted" place cards are said to have been in fashion. But excepting on such occasions as a Christmas or a birthday dinner, they are never seen in private houses to-day.

!MENU CARDS!

Small, standing porcelain slates, on which the menu is written, are seen on occasional dinner tables. Most often there is only one which is placed in front of the host; but sometimes there is one between every two guests.

!SEATING THE TABLE!

As has already been observed, the most practical way to seat the table is to write the names on individual cards first, and then "place" them as though playing solitaire; the guest of honor on the host's right, the second lady in rank on his left; the most distinguished or oldest gentleman on the right of the hostess, and the other guests filled in between.

!WHO IS THE GUEST OF HONOR?!

The guest of honor is the oldest lady present, or a stranger whom you wish for some reason to honor. A bride at her first dinner in your house, after her return from her honeymoon, takes, if you choose to have her, precedence over older people. Or if a younger woman has been long away she, in this instance of welcoming her home, takes precedence over her elders. The guest of honor is always led in to dinner by the host and placed on his right, the second in importance sits on his left and is taken in to dinner by the gentleman on whose right she sits. The hostess is always the last to go into the dining-room at a formal dinner.

!THE ENVELOPES FOR THE GENTLEMEN!

In an envelope addressed to each gentleman is put a card on which is written the name of the lady he is to take down to dinner. This card just fits in the envelope, which is an inch or slightly less high and about two inches long. When the envelopes are addressed and filled, they are arranged in two neat rows on a silver tray and put in the front hall. The tray is presented to each gentleman just before he goes into the drawing-room, on his arrival.

!THE TABLE DIAGRAM!

A frame made of leather, round or rectangular, with small openings at regular intervals around the edge in which names written on cards can be slipped, shows the seating of the table at a glance. In a frame holding twenty-four cards, twelve guests would be indicated by leaving every other card place blank, or for eight, only one in three is filled. This diagram is shown to each gentleman upon his arrival, so that he can see who is coming for dinner and where he himself is placed. At a dinner of ten or less this diagram is especially convenient as "envelopes" are used only at formal dinners of twelve and over.

!WHEN THE HOSTESS SITS AT THE SIDE!

When the number of guests is a multiple of four, the host and hostess never sit opposite each other. It would bring two ladies and two gentlemen together if they did. At a table which seats two together at each end, the fact that the host is opposite a gentleman and the hostess opposite a lady is not noticeable; nor is it ever noticeable at a round table. But at a narrow table which has room for only one at the end, the hostess invariably sits in the seat next to that which is properly her own, putting in her place a gentleman at the end. The host usually keeps his seat rather than the hostess because the seat of honor is on his right; and in the etiquette governing dinners, the host and not the hostess is the more important personage!

When there are only four, they keep their own places, otherwise the host and hostess would sit next to each other. At a dinner of eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty, etc., the host keeps his place, but at supper for eight or twelve, the hostess keeps her place and the host moves a place to the right or left because the hostess at supper pours coffee or chocolate. And although the host keeps his seat at a formal dinner in honor of the lady he takes in, at a little dinner of eight, where there is no guest of honor, the host does not necessarily keep his seat at the expense of his wife unless he carves, in which case he must have the end place; just as at supper she has the end place in order to pour.

!SIDEWALK, HALL, AND DRESSING ROOMS!

One can be pretty sure on seeing a red velvet carpet spread down the steps of a house (or up! since there are so many sunken American bas.e.m.e.nt entrances) that there are people for dinner. The carpet is kept rolled, or turned under near the foot (or top) of the steps until a few minutes before the dinner hour when it is spread across the width of the pavement by the chauffeur or whoever is on duty on the sidewalk. Very big or formal dinners often have an awning, especially at a house where there is much entertaining and which has an awning of its own; but at an ordinary house, for a dinner of twelve or so, the man on the pavement must, if it is raining, shelter each arriving guest under his coachman's umbrella from carriage to door. If it does not rain, he merely opens the doors of vehicles. Checks are never given at dinners, no matter how big; every motor is called by address at the end of the evening. The Worldly car is not shouted for as "Worldly!" but "xox Fifth Avenue!" The typical coachman of another day used to tell you "carriages are ordered for ten-fifteen." Carriages were nearly always ordered for that hour, though with slow and long dinners no one ever actually left until the horses had exercised for at least an hour! But the chauffeur of to-day opens the door in silence--unless there is to be a concert or amateur theatricals, when he, like the coachman says, "Motors are ordered for twelve o'clock," or whatever hour he is told to say.

In this day of telephone and indefinite bridge games, many people prefer to have their cars telephoned for, when they are ready to go home. Those who do not play bridge leave an eight o'clock dinner about half past ten, or at least order their cars for that hour.

In all modern houses of size there are two rooms on the entrance floor, built sometimes as dressing-rooms and nothing else, but more often they are small reception rooms, each with a lavatory off of it. In the one given to the ladies, there is always a dressing-table with toilet appointments on it, and the lady's maid should be on duty to give whatever service may be required; when there is no dressing-room on the ground floor, the back of the hall is arranged with coat-hangers and an improvised dressing-table for the ladies, since modern people--in New York at least--never go up-stairs to a bedroom if they can help it. In fact, nine ladies out of ten drop their evening cloaks at the front door, handing them to the servant on duty, and go at once without more ado to the drawing-room. A lady arriving in her own closed car can't be very much blown about, in a completely air tight compartment and in two or three minutes of time!

Gentlemen also leave their hats and coats in the front part of the hail. A servant presents to each a tray of envelopes, and if there is one, the table diagram. Envelopes are not really necessary when there is a table diagram, since every gentleman knows that he "takes in" the lady placed on his right! But at very big dinners in New York or Washington, where many people are sure to be strangers to one another, an absent-minded gentleman might better, perhaps, have his partner's name safely in his pocket.

!ANNOUNCING GUESTS!

A gentleman always falls behind his wife in entering the drawing-room. If the butler knows the guests, he merely announces the wife's name first and then the husband's. If he does not know them by sight he asks whichever is nearest to him, "What name, please?" And whichever one is asked, answers: "Mr. and Mrs. Lake."

The butler then precedes the guests a few steps into the room where the hostess is stationed, and standing aside says in a low tone but very distinctly: "Mrs. Lake," a pause and then, "Mr. Lake." Married people are usually announced separately as above, but occasionally people have their guests announced "Mr. and Mrs. ----."

!ANNOUNCING PERSONS OF RANK!

All men of high executive rank are not alone announced first, but take precedence of their wives in entering the room. The President of the United States is announced simply, "The President and Mrs. Harding." His t.i.tle needs no qualifying appendage, since he and he solely, is the President. He enters first, and alone, of course; and then Mrs. Harding follows. The same form precisely is used for "The Vice-President and Mrs. Coolidge." A governor is sometimes in courtesy called "Excellency" but the correct announcement would be "the Governor of New Jersey and Mrs. Edwards." He enters the room and Mrs. Edwards follows. "The Mayor and Mrs. Thompson" observe the same etiquette; or in a city other than his own he would be announced "The Mayor of Chicago and Mrs. Thompson."

Other announcements are "The Chief Justice and Mrs. Taft," "The Secretary of State and Mrs. Hughes." "Senator and Mrs. Washington," but in this case the latter enters the room first, because his office is not executive.

According to diplomatic etiquette an Amba.s.sador and his wife should be announced, "Their Excellencies the Amba.s.sador and Amba.s.sadress of Great Britain." The Amba.s.sador enters the room first. A Minister Plenipotentiary is announced "The Minister of Sweden." He enters a moment later and "Mrs. Ogren" follows. But a First Secretary and his wife are announced, if they have a t.i.tle of their own, "Count and Countess European," or "Mr. and Mrs. American."

The President, the Vice-President, the Governor of a State, the Mayor of a city, the Amba.s.sador of a foreign Power--in other words, all executives--take precedence over their wives and enter rooms and vehicles first. But Senators, Representatives, Secretaries of legations and all other officials who are not executive, allow their wives to precede them, just as they would if they were private individuals.

Foreigners who have hereditary t.i.tles are announced by them: "The Duke and d.u.c.h.ess of Overthere." "The Marquis and Marchioness of Landsend," or "Sir Edward and Lady Blank," etc. t.i.tles are invariably translated into English, "Count and Countess Lorraine," not "M. le Comte et Mme. la Comtesse Lorraine."

!HOW A HOSTESS RECEIVES AT A FORMAL DINNER!

On all occasions of formality, at a dinner as well as at a ball, the hostess stands near the door of her drawing-room, and as guests are announced, she greets them with a smile and a handshake and says something pleasant to each. What she says is nothing very important, charm of expression and of manner can often wordlessly express a far more gracious welcome than the most elaborate phrases (which as a matter of fact should be studiously avoided). Unless a woman's loveliness springs from generosity of heart and sympathy, her manners, no matter how perfectly practised, are nothing but cosmetics applied to hide a want of inner beauty; precisely as rouge and powder are applied in the hope of hiding the lack of a beautiful skin. One device is about as successful as the other; quite pleasing unless brought into comparison with the real.

Mrs. Oldname, for instance, usually welcomes you with some such sentences as, "I am very glad to see you" or "I am so glad you could come!" Or if it is raining, she very likely tells you that you were very unselfish to come out in the storm. But no matter what she says or whether anything at all, she takes your hand with a firm pressure and her smile is really a smile of welcome, not a mechanical exercise of the facial muscles. She gives you always--even if only for the moment--her complete attention; and you go into her drawing-room with a distinct feeling that you are under the roof, not of a mere acquaintance, but of a friend. Mr. Oldname who stands never very far from his wife, always comes forward and, grasping your hand, accentuates his wife's more subtle but no less vivid welcome. And either you join a friend standing near, or he presents you, if you are a man, to a lady; or if you are a lady, he presents a man to you.

Some hostesses, especially those of the Lion-Hunting and the New-to-Best-Society variety are much given to explanations, and love to say "Mrs. Jones, I want you to meet Mrs. Smith. Mrs. Smith is the author of 'Dragged from the Depths,' a most enlightening work of psychic insight." Or to a good-looking woman, "I am putting you next to the a.s.syrian Amba.s.sador--I want him to carry back a flattering impression of American women!"

But people of good breeding do not over-exploit their distinguished guests with embarra.s.sing hyperbole, or make personal remarks. Both are in worst possible taste. Do not understand by this that explanations can not be made; it is only that they must not be embarra.s.singly made to their faces. Nor must a "specialist's" subject be forced upon him, like a pair of manacles, by any exploiting hostess who has captured him. Mrs. Oldname might perhaps, in order to a.s.sist conversation for an interesting but reticent person, tell a lady just before going in to dinner, "Mr. Traveler who is sitting next to you at the table, has just come back from two years alone with the cannibals." This is not to exploit her "Traveled Lion" but to give his neighbor a starting point for conversation at table. And although personal remarks are never good form, it would be permissible for an older lady in welcoming a very young one, especially a debutante or a bride, to say, "How lovely you look, Mary dear, and what an adorable dress you have on!"

But to say to an older lady, "That is a very handsome string of pearls you are wearing," would be objectionable.

!THE DUTY OF THE HOST!

The host stands fairly near his wife so that if any guest seems to be unknown to all of the others, he can present him to some one. At formal dinners introductions are never general and people do not as a rule speak to strangers, except those next to them at table or in the drawing-room after dinner. The host therefore makes a few introductions if necessary. Before dinner, since the hostess is standing (and no gentleman may therefore sit down) and as it is awkward for a lady who is sitting, to talk with a gentleman who is standing, the ladies usually also stand until dinner is announced.

!WHEN DINNER IS ANNOUNCED!

It is the duty of the butler to "count heads" so that he may know when the company has arrived. As soon as he has announced the last person, he notifies the cook. The cook being ready, the butler, having glanced into the dining-room to see that windows have been closed and the candles on the table lighted, enters the drawing-room, approaches the hostess, bows, and says quietly, "Dinner is served."

The host offers his arm to the lady of honor and leads the way to the dining-room. All the other gentlemen offer their arms to the ladies appointed to them, and follow the host, in an orderly procession, two and two; the only order of precedence is that the host and his partner lead, while the hostess and her partner come last. At all formal dinners, place cards being on the table, the hostess does not direct people where to sit. If there was no table diagram in the hall, the butler, standing just within the dining-room door, tells each gentleman as he approaches "Right" or "Left."

"R" or "L" is occasionally written on the lady's name card in the envelopes given to the gentlemen, or if it is such a big dinner that there are many separate tables, the tables are numbered with standing placards (as at a public dinner) and the table number written on each lady's name card.

!THE MANNERS OF A HOSTESS!

First of all, a hostess must show each of her guests equal and impartial attention. Also, although engrossed in the person she is talking to, she must be able to notice anything amiss that may occur. The more competent her servants, the less she need be aware of details herself, but the hostess giving a formal dinner with uncertain dining-room efficiency has a far from smooth path before her. No matter what happens, if all the china in the pantry falls with a crash, she must not appear to have heard it. No matter what goes wrong she must cover it as best she may, and at the same time cover the fact that she is covering it. To give hectic directions, merely accentuates the awkwardness. If a dish appears that is unpresentable, she as quietly as possible orders the next one to be brought in. If a guest knocks over a gla.s.s and breaks it, even though the gla.s.s be a piece of genuine Steigel, her only concern must seemingly be that her guest's place has been made uncomfortable. She says, "I am so sorry, but I will have it fixed at once!" The broken gla.s.s is nothing! And she has a fresh gla.s.s brought (even though it doesn't match) and dismisses all thought of the matter.

Both the host and hostess must keep the conversation going, if it lags, but this is not as definitely their duty at a formal, as at an informal dinner It is at the small dinner that the skilful hostess has need of what Thackeray calls the "showman" quality. She brings each guest forward in turn to the center of the stage. In a lull in the conversation she says beguilingly to a clever but shy man, "John, what was that story you told me----" and then she repeats briefly an introduction to a topic in which "John" particularly shines. Or later on, she begins a narrative and breaks off suddenly, turning to some one else, "You tell them!"

These examples are rather bald, and overemphasize the method in order to make it clear. Practise and the knowledge of human nature, or of the particular temperament with which she is trying to deal, can alone tell her when she may lead or provoke this or that one to being at his best, to his own satisfaction as well as that of the others who may be present. Her own character and sympathy are the only real "showman" a.s.sets, since no one "shows" to advantage except in a congenial environment.

!THE LATE GUEST!

A polite hostess waits twenty minutes after the dinner hour, and then orders dinner served. To wait more than twenty minutes, or actually fifteen after those who took the allowable five minutes grace, would be showing lack of consideration to many for the sake of one. When the late guest finally enters the dining-room, the hostess rises, shakes hands with her, but does not leave her place at table. She doesn't rise for a gentleman. It is the guest who must go up to the hostess and apologize for being late. The hostess must never take the guest to task, but should say something polite and conciliatory such as, "I was sure you would not want us to wait dinner!" The newcomer is usually served with dinner from the beginning unless she is considerate enough to say to the butler, "Just let me begin with this course."

Old Mrs. Toplofty's manners to late guests are an exception: on the last stroke of eight o'clock in winter and half after eight in Newport, dinner is announced. She waits for no one! Furthermore, a guest arriving after a course has been served, does not have to protest against disarranging the order of dinner since the rule of the house is that a course which has pa.s.sed a chair is not to be returned. A guest missing his "turn" misses that course. The result is that everyone dining with Mrs. Toplofty arrives on the stroke of the dinner hour; which is also rather necessary, as she is one of those who like the service to be rushed through at top speed, and anyone arriving half an hour late would find dinner over.

It would be excellent discipline if there were more hostesses like her, but no young woman could be so autocratic and few older ones care (or dare) to be. Nothing shows selfish want of consideration more than being habitually late for dinner. Not only are others, who were themselves considerate, kept waiting, but dinner is dried and ruined for everyone else through the fault of the tardy one. And though expert cooks know how to keep food from becoming uneatable, no food can be so good as at the moment for which it is prepared, and the habitually late guest should be made to realize how unfairly she is meeting her hostess' generosity by destroying for every one the hospitality which she was invited to share.

On the other hand, before a formal dinner, it is the duty of the hostess to be dressed and in her drawing-room fifteen, or ten minutes at least, before the hour set for dinner. For a very informal dinner it is not important to be ready ahead of time, but even then a late hostess is an inconsiderate one.

!ETIQUETTE OF GLOVES AND NAPKIN!

Ladies always wear gloves to formal dinners and take them off at table. Entirely off. It is hideous to leave them on the arm, merely turning back the hands. Both gloves and fan are supposed to be laid across the lap, and one is supposed to lay the napkin folded once in half across the lap too, on top of the gloves and fan, and all three are supposed to stay in place on a slippery satin skirt on a little lap, that more often than not slants downward.

It is all very well for etiquette to say "They stay there," but every woman knows they don't! And this is quite a nice question: If you obey etiquette and lay the napkin on top of the fan and gloves loosely across your satin-covered knees, it will depend merely upon the heaviness and position of the fan's handle whether the avalanche starts right, left or forward, onto the floor. There is just one way to keep these four articles (including the lap as one) from disintegrating, which is to put the napkin cornerwise across your knees and tuck the two side corners under like a lap robe, with the gloves and the fan tied in place as it were. This ought not to be put in a book of etiquette, which should say you must do nothing of the kind, but it is either do that or have the gentleman next you groping under the table at the end of the meal; and it is impossible to imagine that etiquette should wish to conserve the picture of "gentlemen on all fours" as the concluding ceremonial at dinners.

!THE TURNING OF THE TABLE!

The turning of the table is accomplished by the hostess, who merely turns from the gentleman (on her left probably) with whom she has been talking through the soup and the fish course, to the one on her right. As she turns, the lady to whom the "right" gentleman has been talking, turns to the gentleman further on, and in a moment everyone at table is talking to a new neighbor. Sometimes a single couple who have become very much engrossed, refuse to change partners and the whole table is blocked; leaving one lady and one gentleman on either side of the block, staring alone at their plates. At this point the hostess has to come to the rescue by attracting the blocking lady's attention and saying, "Sally, you cannot talk to Professor Bugge any longer! Mr. Smith has been trying his best to attract your attention."

"Sally" being in this way brought awake, is obliged to pay attention to Mr. Smith, and Professor Bugge, little as he may feel inclined, must turn his attention to the other side. To persist in carrying on their own conversation at the expense of others, would be inexcusably rude, not only to their hostess but to every one present.

At a dinner not long ago, Mr. Kindhart sitting next to Mrs. Wellborn and left to himself because of the a.s.siduity of the lady's farther partner, slid his own name-card across and in front of her, to bring her attention to the fact that it was "his turn."

!ENEMIES MUST BURY HATCHETS!

One inexorable rule of etiquette is that you must talk to your next door neighbor at a dinner table. You must, that is all there is about it!

Even if you are placed next to some one with whom you have had a bitter quarrel, consideration for your hostess, who would be distressed if she knew you had been put in a disagreeable place, and further consideration for the rest of the table which is otherwise "blocked," exacts that you give no outward sign of your repugnance and that you make a pretence at least for a little while, of talking together.

At dinner once, Mrs. Toplofty, finding herself next to a man she quite openly despised, said to him with apparent placidity, "I shall not talk to you--because I don't care to. But for the sake of my hostess I shall say my multiplication tables. Twice one are two, twice two are four ----" and she continued on through the tables, making him alternate them with her. As soon as she politely could she turned again to her other companion.

!MANNERS AT TABLE!

It used to be an offense, and it still is considered impolite, to refuse dishes at the table, because your refusal implies that you do not like what is offered you. If this is true, you should be doubly careful to take at least a little on your plate and make a pretence of eating some of it, since to refuse course after course can not fail to distress your hostess. If you are "on a diet" and accepted the invitation with that stipulation, your not eating is excusable; but even then to sit with an empty plate in front of you throughout a meal makes you a seemingly reproachful table companion for those of good appet.i.te sitting next to you.

!ATTACKING A COMPLICATED DISH!

When a dinner has been prepared by a chef who prides himself on being a decorative artist, the guest of honor and whoever else may be the first to be served have quite a problem to know which part of an intricate structure is to be eaten, and which part is scenic effect!

The main portion is generally clear enough; the uncertainty is in whether the flowers are eatable vegetables and whether the things that look like ducks are potatoes, or tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. If there are six or more, the chances are they are edible, and that one or two of a kind are embellishments only. Rings around food are nearly always to be eaten; platforms under food seldom, if ever, are. Anything that looks like pastry is to be eaten; and anything divided into separate units should be taken on your plate complete. You should not try to cut a section from anything that has already been divided into portions in the kitchen. Aspics and desserts are, it must be said, occasionally Chinese puzzles, but if you do help yourself to part of the decoration, no great harm is done.

Dishes are never pa.s.sed from hand to hand at a dinner, not even at the smallest and most informal one. Sometimes people pa.s.s salted nuts to each other, or an extra sweet from a dish near by, but not circling the table.

!LEAVING THE TABLE!

At the end of dinner, when the last dish of chocolates has been pa.s.sed and the hostess sees that no one is any longer eating, she looks across the table, and catching the eye of one of the ladies, slowly stands up. The one who happens to be observing also stands up, and in a moment everyone is standing. The gentlemen offer their arms to their partners and conduct them back to the drawing-room or the library or wherever they are to sit during the rest of the evening.

Each gentleman then slightly bows, takes leave of his partner, and adjourns with the other gentlemen to the smoking-room, where after-dinner coffee, liqueurs, cigars and cigarettes are pa.s.sed, and they all sit where they like and with whom they like, and talk.