Iced tea at lunch in summer is poured at the table by a servant from a glass pitcher, and is prepared like a "cup" with lemon and sugar, and sometimes with cut up fresh fruit and a little squeezed fruit juice. Plain cold tea may be passed in glasses, and lemon and sugar separately. At an informal luncheon, cold coffee, instead of tea, is passed around in a glass pitcher, on a tray that also holds a bowl of powdered sugar and a pitcher of cold milk, and another of as thick as possible cream. The guests pour their coffee to suit themselves into tall glasses half full of broken ice, and furnished with very long-handled spoons.

If tea or coffee or chocolate are not served during the meal, there is always a cup of some sort: grape or orange juice (in these days) with sugar and mint leaves, and ginger ale or carbonic water.

If dessert is a hot pudding or pastry, the "hotel service" of dessert plates should be used. The glass plate is particularly suitable for ice cream or any cold dessert, but is apt to crack if intensely hot food is put on it.

DETAILS OF ETIQUETTE AT LUNCHEONS

Gentlemen leave their coats, hats, sticks, in the hall; ladies leave heavy outer wraps in the hall, or dressing-room, but always go into the drawing-room with their hats and gloves on. They wear their fur neck pieces and carry their muffs in their hands, if they choose, or they leave them in the hall or dressing-room. But fashionable ladies never take off their hats. Even the hostess herself almost invariably wears a hat at a formal luncheon in her own house, though there is no reason why she should not be hatless if she prefers, or if she thinks she is prettier without! Guests, however, do not take off their hats at a lunch party even in the country. They take off their gloves at the table, or sooner if they choose, and either remove or turn up, their veils. The hostess does not wear gloves, ever. It is also very unsuitable for a hostess to wear a face veil in her own house, unless there is something the matter with her face, that must not be subjected to view! A hostess in a veil does not give her guests the impression of "veiled beauty," but the contrary. Guests, on the other hand, may with perfect fitness keep their veils on throughout the meal, merely fastening the lower edge up over their noses. They must not allow a veil to hang loose, and carry food under and behind it, nor must they eat with gloves on. A veil kept persistently over the face, and gloves kept persistently over the hands, means one thing: Ugliness behind. So unless you have to—don't!

The wearing of elaborate dresses at luncheons has gone entirely out of fashion; and yet one does once in a while see an occasional lady—rarely a New Yorker—who outshines a bird of paradise and a jeweler's window; but New York women of distinction wear rather simple clothes—simple meaning untrimmed, not inexpensive. Very conspicuous clothes are chosen either by the new rich, to assure themselves of their own elegance—which is utterly lacking—or by the muttons dressed lamb-fashion, to assure themselves of their own youth—which alas, is gone!

Gentlemen at luncheon in town on a Sunday wear cutaway coats; in other words, what they wear to church. On a Saturday, they wear their business suits, sack coat with either stiff or pleated-bosom shirts, and a starched collar. In the country, they wear country clothes.

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WHAT THE SERVANTS WEAR

A butler wears his "morning" clothes; cutaway coat, gray striped trousers, high black waistcoat, black tie. A "hired waiter" wears a dress suit, but never a butler in a "smart" house; he does not put on his evening clothes until after six o'clock. In a smart house, the footmen wear their dress liveries, and a waitress and other maids wear their best uniforms.

THE GUESTS LEAVE

The usual lunch hour is half past one. By a quarter to three the last guest is invariably gone, unless, of course, it is a bridge luncheon, or for some other reason they are staying longer. From half an hour to three-quarters at the table, and from twenty minutes to half an hour's conversation afterwards, means that by half past two (if lunch was prompt) guests begin leaving. Once in a while, especially at a mixed lunch where perhaps talented people are persuaded to become "entertainers" the audience stays on for hours! But such parties are so out of the usual that they have nothing to do with the ordinary procedure, which is to leave about twenty minutes after the end of the meal.

The details for leaving are also the same as for dinners. One lady rises and says good-by, the hostess rises and shakes hands and rings a bell (if necessary) for the servant to be in the hall to open the door. When one guest gets up to go, the others invariably follow. They say "Good-by" and "Thank you so much."

Or, at a little luncheon, intimate friends often stay on indefinitely; but when lunching with an acquaintance one should never stay a moment longer than the other guests. The guest who sits on and on, unless earnestly pressed to do so, is wanting in tact and social sense. If a hostess invites a stranger who might by any chance prove a barnacle, she can provide for the contingency by instructing her butler or waitress to tell her when her car is at the door. She then says: "I had to have the car announced, because I have an appointment at the doctor's. Do wait while I put on my things—I shall be only a moment! And I can take you wherever you want to go!" This expedient should not be used when a hostess has leisure to sit at home, but on the other hand, a guest should never create an awkward situation for her hostess by staying too long.

In the country where people live miles apart, they naturally stay somewhat longer than in town.

Or two or three intimate friends who perhaps (especially in the country) come to spend the day, are not bound by rules of etiquette but by the rules of their own and their hostess' personal preference. They take off their hats or not as they choose, and they bring their sewing or knitting and sit all day, or they go out and play games, and in other ways behave as house-guests rather than visitors at luncheon. The only rule about such an informal gathering as this is, that no one should ever go and spend the day and make herself at home unless she is in the house of a really very intimate friend or relative, or unless she has been especially and specifically invited to do that very thing.

THE STAND-UP LUNCHEON

This is nothing more nor less than a buffet lunch. It is popular because it is a very informal and jolly sort of party—an indoor picnic really—and never attempted except among people who know each other well.

The food is all put on the dining table and every one helps himself. There is always bouillon or oyster stew or clam chowder. The most "informal" dishes are suitable for this sort of a meal, as for a picnic. There are two hot dishes and a salad, and a dessert which may be, but seldom is, ice cream.

Stand-up luncheons are very practical for hostesses who have medium sized houses, or when an elastic number of guests are expected at the time of a ball game, or other event that congregates a great many people.

A hunt breakfast is usually a stand-up luncheon. It is a "breakfast" by courtesy of half an hour in time. At twelve-thirty it is breakfast, at one o'clock it is lunch.

Regular weekly stand-up luncheons are given by hospitable people who have big places in the country and encourage their friends to drive over on some especial day when they are "at home"—Saturdays or Sundays generally—and intimate friends drop in uninvited, but always prepared for. On such occasions, luncheon is made a little more comfortable by providing innumerable individual tables to which people can carry the plates, glasses or cups and sit down in comfort.

SUPPERS

Supper is the most intimate meal there is, and since none but family or closest friends are ever included, invitations are invariably by word of mouth.

The atmosphere of a luncheon is often formal, but informal luncheons and suppers differ in nothing except day and evening lights, and clothes. Strangers are occasionally invited to informal luncheons, but only intimate friends are bidden to supper.

THE SUPPER TABLE

The table is set, as to places and napery, exactly like the lunch table, with the addition of candlesticks or candelabra as at dinner. Where supper differs from the usual lunch table is that in front of the hostess is a big silver tea-tray with full silver service for tea or cocoa or chocolate or breakfast coffee, most often chocolate or cocoa and either tea or coffee. At the host's end of the table there is perhaps a chafing dish—that is, if the host fancies himself a cook!

A number of people whose establishments are not very large, have very informal Sunday night suppers on their servants' Sundays out, and forage for themselves. The table is left set, a cold dish of something and salad are left in the icebox; the ingredients for one or two chafing dish specialties are also left ready. At supper time a member of the family, and possibly an intimate friend or two, carry the dishes to the table and make hot toast on a toaster.

This kind of supper is, in fact as well as spirit, an indoor picnic; thought to be the greatest fun by the Kindharts, but little appreciated by the Gildings, which brings it down, with so many other social customs, to a mere matter of personal taste.



CHAPTER XVII

BALLS AND DANCES

A ball is the only social function in America to which such qualifying words as splendor and magnificence can with proper modesty of expression be applied. Even the most elaborate wedding is not quite "a scene of splendor and magnificence" no matter how luxurious the decorations or how costly the dress of the bride and bridesmaids, because the majority of the wedding guests do not complete the picture. A dinner may be lavish, a dance may be beautiful, but a ball alone is prodigal, meaning, of course, a private ball of greatest importance.

On rare occasions, a great ball is given in a private house, but since few houses are big enough to provide dancing space for several hundred and sit-down supper space for a greater number still, besides smoking-room, dressing-room and sitting-about space, it would seem logical to describe a typical ball as taking place in the ballroom suite built for the purpose in nearly all hotels.

A HOSTESS PREPARES TO GIVE A BALL

The hostess who is not giving the ball in her own house goes first of all to see the manager of the hotel (or of whatever suitable assembly rooms there may be) and finds out which evenings are available. She then telephones—probably from the manager's office—and engages the two best orchestras for whichever evening both the orchestras and the ballroom are at her disposal. Of the two, music is of more importance than rooms. With perfect music the success of a ball is more than three-quarters assured; without it, the most beautiful decorations and most delicious supper are as flat as a fallen souffle. You cannot give a ball or a dance that is anything but a dull promenade if you have dull music.

To illustrate the importance that prominent hostesses attach to music: a certain orchestra in New York to-day is forced to dash almost daily, not alone from party to party, but from city to city. Time and again its leader has conducted the music at a noon wedding in Philadelphia, and a ball in Boston; or a dancing tea in Providence and a ball that evening in New York; because Boston, Providence, New York and Philadelphia hostesses all at the present moment clamor for this one especial orchestra. The men have a little more respite than the leader since it is his "leading" that every one insists upon. Tomorrow another orchestra will probably make the daily tour of various cities' ballrooms.

At all balls, there must be two orchestras, so that each time one finishes playing the other begins. At very dignified private balls, dancers should not stand in the middle of the floor and clap as they do in a dance hall or cabaret if the music ends. On the other hand, the music should not end.

Having secured the music and engaged the ballroom, reception rooms, dressing-rooms and smoking-room, as well as the main restaurant (after it is closed to the public), the hostess next makes out her list and orders and sends out her invitations.

INVITATIONS

The fundamental difference between a ball and a dance is that people of all ages are asked to a ball, while only those of approximately one age are asked to a dance. Once in a while a ball is given to which the hostess invites every person on her visiting list. Mr. and Mrs. Titherington de Puyster give one every season, which although a credit to their intentions is seldom a credit to their sense of beauty!

Snobbish as it sounds and is, a brilliant ball is necessarily a collection of brilliantly fashionable people, and the hostess who gathers in all the oddly assorted frumps on the outskirts of society cannot expect to achieve a very distinguished result.

Ball invitations properly include all of the personal friends of the hostess no matter what their age, and all her better-known social acquaintances—meaning every one she would be likely to invite to a formal dinner. She does not usually invite a lady with whom she may work on a charitable committee, even though she may know her well, and like her. The question as to whether an outsider may be invited is not a matter of a hostess' own inclination so much as a question whether the "outsider" would be agreeable to all the "insiders" who are coming. If the co-worker is in everything a lady and a fitting ornament to society, the hostess might very possibly ask her.

If the ball to be given is for a debutante, all the debutantes whose mothers are on the "general visiting list" are asked as well as all young dancing men in these same families. In other words the children of all those whose names are on the general visiting list of a hostess are selected to receive invitations, but the parents on whose standing the daughters and sons are asked, are rarely invited.

When a List is Borrowed

A lady who has a debutante daughter, but who has not given any general parties for years—or ever, and whose daughter, having been away at boarding-school or abroad, has therefore very few acquaintances of her own, must necessarily in sending out invitations to a ball take the list of young girls and men from a friend or a member of her family. This of course could only be done by a hostess whose position is unquestioned, but having had no occasion to keep a young people's list, she has not the least idea who the young people of the moment are, and takes a short-cut as above. Otherwise she would send invitations to children of ten and spinsters of forty, trusting to their being of suitable age.

To take a family or intimate friend's list is also important to the unaccustomed hostess, because to leave out any of the younger set who "belong" in the groups which are included, is not the way to make a party a success. Those who don't find their friends go home, or stay and are bored, and the whole party sags in consequence. So that if a hostess knows the parents personally of, let us say, eighty per cent. of young society, she can quite properly include the twenty per cent. she does not know, so that the hundred per cent. can come together. In a small community it is rather cruel to leave out any of the young people whose friends are all invited. In a very great city on the other hand, an habitual hostess does not ask any to her house whom she does not know, but she can of course be as generous as she chooses in allowing young people to have invitations for friends.

Asking for an Invitation to a Ball

It is always permissible to ask a hostess if you may "bring" a dancing man who is a stranger to her. It is rather difficult to ask for an invitation for an extra girl, and still more difficult to ask for older people, because the hostess has no ground on which she can refuse without being rude; she can't say there is no room since no dance is really limited, and least of all a ball. Men who dance are always an asset, and the more the better; but a strange young girl hung around the neck of the hostess is about as welcome as a fog at a garden party. If the girl is to be brought and "looked after" by the lady asking for the invitation—who has herself been already invited—that is another matter, and the hostess can not well object. Or if the young girl is the fiancee of the man whose mother asks for the invitation, that is all right too; since he will undoubtedly come with her and see that she is not left alone. Invitations for older people are never asked for unless they are rather distinguished strangers and unquestionably suitable.

Invitations are never asked for persons whom the hostess already knows, since if she had cared to invite them she would have done so. It is, however, not at all out of the way for an intimate friend to remind her of some one who in receiving no invitation has more than likely been overlooked. If the omission was intentional, nothing need be said; if it was an oversight, the hostess is very glad to repair her forgetfulness.

Invitations for Strangers

An invitation that has been asked for a stranger is sent direct and without comment. For instance, when the Greatlakes of Chicago came to New York for a few weeks, Mrs. Norman asked both Mrs. Worldly and Mrs. Gilding to send them invitations; one to a musicale and the other to a ball. The Greatlakes received these invitations without Mrs. Norman's card enclosed or any other word of explanation, as it was taken for granted that Mrs. Norman would tell the Greatlakes that it was through her that the invitations were sent. The Greatlakes said "Thank you very much for asking us" when they bid their hostess good night, and they also left their cards immediately on the Worldlys and Gildings after the parties—but it was also the duty of Mrs. Norman to thank both hostesses—verbally—for sending the invitations.

DECORATIONS

So far as good taste is concerned, the decorations for a ball cannot be too lavish or beautiful. To be sure they should not be lavish if one's purse is limited, but if one's purse is really limited, one should not give a ball! A small dance or a dancing tea would be more suitable.

Ball decorations have on occasions been literally astounding, but as a rule no elaboration is undertaken other than hanging greens and flowers over the edge of the gallery, if there is a gallery, banking palms in corners, and putting up sheaves of flowers or trailing vines wherever most effective. In any event the hostess consults her florist, but if the decorations are to be very important, an architect or an artist is put in charge, with a florist under him.

THE BALL BEAUTIFUL

Certain sounds, perfumes, places, always bring associated pictures to mind: Restaurant suppers; Paris! Distinguished-looking audiences; London! The essence of charm in society; Rome! Beguiling and informal joyousness; San Francisco! Recklessness; Colorado Springs! The afternoon visit; Washington! Hectic and splendid gaiety; New York! Beautiful balls; Boston!

There are three reasons (probably more) why the balls in Boston have what can be described only by the word "quality." The word "elegance" before it was misused out of existence expressed it even better.

First: Best Society in Boston having kept its social walls intact, granting admission only to those of birth and breeding, has therefore preserved a quality of unmistakable cultivation. There are undoubtedly other cities, especially in the South, which have also kept their walls up and their traditions intact—but Boston has been the wise virgin as well, and has kept her lamp filled.

Second: Boston hostesses of position have never failed to demand of those who would remain on their lists, strict obedience to the tenets of ceremonies and dignified behavior; nor ceased themselves to cultivate something of the "grand manner" that should be the birthright of every thoroughbred lady and gentleman.

Third: Boston's older ladies and gentlemen always dance at balls, and they neither rock around the floor, nor take their dancing violently. And the fact that older ladies of distinction dance with dignity, has an inevitable effect upon younger ones, so that at balls at least, dancing has not degenerated into gymnastics or contortions.

The extreme reverse of a "smart" Boston ball is one—no matter where—which has a roomful of people who deport themselves abominably, who greet each other by waving their arms aloft, who dance like Apaches or jiggling music-box figures, and who scarcely suggest an assemblage of even decent—let alone well-bred—people.

SUPPER

A sit-down supper that is served continuously for two or three hours, is the most elaborate ball supper. Next in importance is the sit-down supper at a set time. Third, the buffet supper which is served at dances but not at balls.

At the most fashionable New York balls, supper service begins at one and continues until three and people go when they feel like it. The restaurant is closed to the public at one o'clock; the entrance is then curtained or shut off from the rest of the hotel. The tables are decorated with flowers and the supper service opened for the ball guests. Guests sit where they please, either "making up a table," or a man and his partner finding a place wherever there are two vacant chairs. At a private ball guests do not pay for anything or sign supper checks, or tip the waiter, since the restaurant is for the time being the private dining-room of the host and hostess.

At a sit-down supper at a set hour, the choice of menu is unlimited, but suppers are never as elaborate now as they used to be. Years ago few balls were given without terrapin, and a supper without champagne was as unheard of. In fact, champagne was the heaviest item of expenditure always. Decorations might be very limited, but champagne was as essential as music! Cotillion favors were also an important item which no longer exists; and champagne has gone its way with nectar, to the land of fable, so that if you eliminate elaborate decorations, ball-giving is not half the expense it used to be.

FOR A SIT-DOWN SUPPER THAT IS CONTINUOUS

When the service of supper continues for several hours, it is necessary to select food that can be kept hot indefinitely without being spoiled. Birds or broiled chicken, which should be eaten the moment they are cooked, are therefore unsuitable. Dishes prepared in sauce keep best, such as lobster Newburg, sweetbreads and mushrooms, chicken a la King, or creamed oysters. Pates are satisfactory as the shells can be heated in a moment and hot creamed chicken or oysters poured in. Of course all cold dishes and salads can stand in the pantry or on a buffet table all evening.

The menu for supper at a ball is entirely a matter of the hostess' selection, but whether it is served at one time or continuously, the supper menu at an important ball includes:

1. Bouillon or green turtle (clear) in cups.

2. Lobster a la Newburg (or terrapin or oyster pate or another hot dish of shell-fish or fowl).

3. A second choice hot dish of some sort, squab, chicken and peas (if supper is served at a special hour) or croquettes and peas if continuous.

4. Salad, which includes every variety known, with or without an aspic.

5. Individual ices, fancy cakes.

6. Black coffee in little cups.

Breakfast served at about four in the morning and consisting of scrambled eggs with sausages or bacon and breakfast coffee and rolls is an occasional custom at both dances and balls.

There is always an enormous glass bowl of punch or orangeade—sometimes two or three bowls each containing a different iced drink—in a room adjoining the ballroom. And in very cold climates it is the thoughtful custom of some hostesses to have a cup of hot chocolate or bouillon offered each departing guest. This is an especially welcome attention to those who have a long drive home.

A DANCE

A dance is merely a ball on a smaller scale, fewer people are asked to it and it has usually, but not necessarily, simpler decorations.

But the real difference is that invitations to balls always include older people—as many if not more than younger ones—whereas invitations to a dance for a debutante, for instance, include none but very young girls, young men and the merest handful of the hostess' most intimate friends.

Supper may equally be a simple buffet or an elaborate sit-down one, depending upon the size and type of the house.

Or a dance may equally well as a ball be given in the "banquet" or smaller ballroom of a hotel, or in the assembly or ballroom of a club.

A formal dance differs from an informal one merely in elaboration, and in whether the majority of those present are strangers to one another; a really informal dance is one to which only those who know one another well are invited.

DETAILS OF PREPARATION FOR A BALL OR DANCE IN A PRIVATE HOUSE

There is always an awning and a red carpet down the steps (or up), and a chauffeur to open the carriage doors and a policeman or detective to see that strangers do not walk uninvited into the house. If there is a great crush, there is a detective in the hall to "investigate" anyone who does not have himself announced to the hostess.

All the necessary appurtenances such as awning, red carpet, coat hanging racks, ballroom chairs, as well as crockery, glass, napkins, waiters and food are supplied by hotels or caterers. (Excepting in houses like the Gildings,' where footmen's liveries are kept purposely, the caterer's men are never in footmen's liveries.)

Unless a house has a ballroom the room selected for dancing must have all the furniture moved out of it; and if there are adjoining rooms and the dancing room is not especially big, it adds considerably to the floor space to put no chairs around it. Those who dance seldom sit around a ballroom anyway, and the more informal grouping of chairs in the hall or library is a better arrangement than the wainscot row or wall-flower exposition grounds. The floor, it goes without saying, must be smooth and waxed, and no one should attempt to give a dance whose house is not big enough.

ETIQUETTE IN THE BALLROOM

New York's invitations are usually for "ten o'clock" but first guests do not appear before ten-thirty and most people arrive at about eleven or after. The hostess, however, must be ready to receive on the stroke of the hour specified in her invitations, and the debutante or any one the ball may be given for, must also be with her.

It is not customary to put the debutante's name on the formal "At Home" invitation, and it is even occasionally omitted on invitations that "request the pleasure of ——" so that the only way acquaintances can know the ball is being given for the daughter is by seeing her standing beside her mother.

Mr. & Mrs. Robert Gilding

request the pleasure of

[Name of guest is written here]

company on Tuesday, the twenty-seventh of December

at ten o'clock

at the Fitz-Cherry

Dancing R.s.v.p. Twenty-three East Laurel Street

The hostess never leaves her post, wherever it is she is standing, until she goes to supper. If, as at the Ritz in New York, the ballroom opens on a foyer at the head of a stairway, the hostess always receives at this place. In a private house where guests go up in an elevator to the dressing rooms, and then walk down to the ballroom floor, the hostess receives either at the foot of the stairway, or just outside the ballroom.

THE HOSTESS AT A BALL

Guests arriving are announced, as at a dinner or afternoon tea, and after shaking hands with the hostess, they must pass on into the ballroom. It is not etiquette to linger beside the hostess for more than a moment, especially if later arrivals are being announced. A stranger ought never go to a ball alone, as the hostess is powerless to "look after" any especial guests; her duty being to stand in one precise place and receive. A stranger who is a particular friend of the hostess would be looked after by the host; but a stranger who is invited through another guest should be looked after by that other.

A gentleman who has received an invitation through a friend is usually accompanied by the friend who presents him. Otherwise when the butler announces him to the hostess, he bows, and says "Mrs. Norman asked you if I might come." And the hostess shakes hands and says "How do you do, I am very glad to see you." If other young men or any young girls are standing near, the hostess very likely introduces him. Otherwise, if he knows no one, he waits among the stags until his own particular sponsor appears.

After supper, when she is no longer receiving, the hostess is free to talk with her friends and give her attention to the roomful of young people who are actually in her charge.

When her guests leave she does not go back to where she received, but stands wherever she happens to be, shakes hands and says "Good night." There is one occasion when it is better not to bid one's hostess good night, and that is, if one finds her party dull and leaves again immediately; in this one case it is more polite to slip away so as to attract the least attention possible, but late in the evening it is inexcusably ill mannered not to find her and say "Good night" and "Thank you."

The duty of seeing that guests are looked after, that shy youths are presented to partners, that shyer girls are not left on the far wall-flower outposts, that the dowagers are taken in to supper, and that the elderly gentlemen are provided with good cigars in the smoking-room, falls to the host and his son or son-in-law, or any other near male member of the family.

MASQUERADE VOUCHERS

Vouchers or tickets of admission like those sent with invitations to assembly or public balls should be enclosed in invitations to a masquerade; it would be too easy otherwise for dishonest or other undesirable persons to gain admittance. If vouchers are not sent with the invitations, or better yet, mailed afterwards to all those who have accepted, it is necessary that the hostess receive her guests singly in a small private room and request each to unmask before her.

HOW TO WALK ACROSS A BALLROOM

If you analyze the precepts laid down by etiquette you will find that for each there is a perfectly good reason. Years ago a lady never walked across a ballroom floor without the support of a gentleman's arm, which was much easier than walking alone across a very slippery surface in high-heeled slippers. When the late Ward McAllister classified New York society as having four hundred people who were "at ease in a ballroom," he indicated that the ballroom was the test of the best manners. He also said at a dinner—after his book was published and the country had already made New York's "Four Hundred" a theme for cartoons and jests—that among the "Four hundred who were at ease," not more than ten could gracefully cross a ballroom floor alone. If his ghost is haunting the ballrooms of our time, it is certain the number is still further reduced. The athletic young woman of to-day strides across the ballroom floor as though she were on the golf course; the happy-go-lucky one ambles—shoulders stooped, arms swinging, hips and head in advance of chest; others trot, others shuffle, others make a rush for it. The young girl who could walk across a room with the consummate grace of Mrs. Oldname (who as a girl of eighteen was one of Mr. McAllister's ten) would have to be very assiduously sought for.

How does Mrs. Oldname walk? One might answer by describing how Pavlowa dances. Her body is perfectly balanced, she holds herself straight, and yet in nothing suggests a ramrod. She takes steps of medium length, and, like all people who move and dance well, walks from the hip, not the knee. On no account does she swing her arms, nor does she rest a hand on her hip! Nor when walking, does she wave her hands about in gesticulation.

Some one asked her if she had ever been taught to cross a ballroom floor. As a matter of fact, she had. Her grandmother, who was a Toplofty, made all her grandchildren walk daily across a polished floor with sand-bags on their heads. And the old lady directed the drill herself. No shuffling of feet and no stamping, either; no waggling of hips, no swinging of arms, and not a shoulder stooped. Furthermore, they were taught to enter a room and to sit for an indefinite period in self-effacing silence while their elders were talking.

Older gentlemen still give their arms to older ladies in all "promenading" at a ball, since the customs of a lifetime are not broken by one short and modern generation. Those of to-day walk side by side, except in going down to supper when supper is at a set hour.

At public balls when there is a grand march, ladies take gentlemen's arms.

DISTINCTION VANISHED WITH COTILLION

The glittering display of tinsel satin favors that used to be the featured and gayest decoration of every ballroom, is gone; the cotillion leader, his hands full of "seat checks," his manners a cross between those of Lord Chesterfield and a traffic policeman, is gone; and much of the distinction that used to be characteristic of the ballroom is gone with the cotillion. There is no question that a cotillion was prettier to look at than a mob scene of dancers crowding each other for every few inches of progress.

The reason why cotillions were conducive to good manners was that people were on exhibition, where now they are unnoticed components of a general crowd. When only a sixth, at most, of those in the room danced while others had nothing to do but watch them, it was only natural that those "on exhibition" should dance as well as they possibly could, and since their walking across the room and asking others to dance by "offering a favor" was also watched, grace of deportment and correct manners were not likely to deteriorate, either.

The cotillion was detested and finally banned by the majority who wanted to dance ceaselessly throughout the evening. But it was of particular advantage to the very young girl who did not know many men, as well as to what might be called the helpless type. Each young girl, if she had a partner, had a place where she belonged and where she sat throughout the evening. And since no couple could dance longer than the few moments allowed by the "figure," there was no chance of anyone's being "stuck"; so that the average girl had a better chance of being asked to dance than now—when, without programmes, and without cotillions, there is nothing to relieve the permanency of a young man's attachment to an unknown young girl once he asks her to dance.

THE ORDEAL BY BALLROOM

Instead of being easier, it would seem that time makes it increasingly difficult for any but distinct successes to survive the ordeal by ballroom. Years ago a debutante was supposed to flutter into society in the shadow of mamma's protecting amplitude; to-day she is packed off by herself and with nothing to relieve her dependence upon whoever may come near her. To liken a charming young girl in the prettiest of frocks to a spider is not very courteous; and yet the role of spider is what she is forced by the exigencies of ballroom etiquette to play. She must catch a fly, meaning a trousered companion, so as not to be left in placarded disgrace; and having caught him she must hang on to him until another takes his place.

There should be drastic revision of ballroom customs. There is a desperate need of what in local dancing classes was called the "Dump," where without rudeness a gentleman could leave a lady as soon as they had finished dancing.

There used to be a chaperon into whose care a young girl could be committed; there used to be the "dance card", or programme (still in vogue at public balls) that allotted a certain dance to a certain gentleman and lady equally. There used to be the cotillion which, while cruel, at least committed its acts of cruelty with merciful dispatch. When the cotillion began, the girl who had no partner—went home. She had to. Now, once she has acquired a companion, he is planted beside her until another takes his place. It is this fact and no other which is responsible for the dread that the average young girl feels in facing the ordeal of a ballroom, and for the discourteous unconcern shown by dancing men who under other conditions would be friendly.

The situation of a young girl, left cruelly alone, draws its own picture, but the reason for the callous and ill-mannered behavior of the average dancing man, may perhaps need a word of explanation.

For instance: Jim Smartlington, when he was a senior at college, came down to the Toploftys' ball on purpose to see Mary Smith. Very early, before Mary arrived, he saw a Miss Blank, a girl he had met at a dinner in Providence, standing at the entrance of the room. Following a casual impulse of friendliness he asked her to dance. She danced badly. No one "cut in" and they danced and danced, sat down and danced again. Mary arrived. Jim walked Miss Blank near the "stag" line and introduced several men, who bowed and slid out of sight with the dexterity of eels who recognized a hook. From half-past ten until supper at half-past one, Jim was "planted." He was then forced to tell her he had a partner for supper, and left her at the door of the dressing-room. There was no other place to "leave her." He felt like a brute and a cad, even though he had waited nearly three hours before being able to speak to the girl he had come purposely to see.

There really is something to be said on the man's side; especially on that of one who has to get up early in the morning and who, only intending to see one or two particular friends and then go home, is forced because of an impulse of courtesy not only to spend an endless and exhausting evening, but to be utterly unfit for his work next day.

One is equally sorry for the girl! But in the example above her stupid handling of the situation not only spoiled one well-intentioned man's evening, but completely "finished" herself so far as her future chances for success were concerned. Not alone her partner but every brother-stag who stood in the doorway mentally placarded her "Keep off." It is suicidal for a girl to make any man spend an entire evening with her. If at the end of two dances, there is no intimate friend she can signal to, or an older lady she can insist on being left with, she should go home; and if the same thing happens several times, she should not go to balls.

For the reasons given above, there is little that a hostess or host can do, unless a promise of "release" is held out, and that in itself is a deplorable situation; a humiliation that no young girl's name should be submitted to. And yet there it is! It is only necessary for a hostess to say "I want to introduce you to a charming——" And she is already speaking to the air.

Boston hostesses solve the problem of a young girl's success in a ballroom in a way unknown in New York, by having ushers.

USHERS

Each hostess chooses from among the best known young men in society, who have perfect address and tact, a number to act as ushers. They are distinguished by white boutonnieres, like those worn by ushers at a wedding, and they are deputy hosts. It is their duty to see that wall-flowers are not left decorating the seats in the ballroom and it is also their duty to relieve a partner who has too long been planted beside the same "rosebud."

The ushers themselves have little chance to follow their own inclinations, and unless the "honor" of being chosen by a prominent hostess has some measure of compensation, the appointment—since it may not be refused—is a doubtful pleasure. An usher has the right to introduce anyone to anyone without knowing either principal personally and without asking any lady's permission. He may also ask a lady (if he has a moment to himself) to dance with him, whether he has ever met her or not, and he can also leave her promptly, because any "stag" called upon by an usher must dance. The usher in turn must release every "stag" he calls upon by substituting another; and the second by a third and so on. In order to make a ball "go," meaning to keep everyone dancing, the ushers have on occasions to spend the entire evening in relief work.

At a ball where there are ushers, a girl standing or sitting alone would at once be rescued by one of them, and a rotation of partners presented to her. If she is "hopeless"—meaning neither pretty nor attractive nor a good dancer—even the ushers are in time forced to relieve her partners and take her to a dowager friend of the hostess, beside whom she will be obliged to sit until she learns that she must seek her popularity otherwhere than at balls.

On the other hand, on an occasion when none of her friends happen to be present, the greatest belle of the year can spend an equally deadly evening.

THE DANCE PROGRAM

The program or dance-card of public balls and college class dances, has undeniable advantages. A girl can give as many dances as she chooses to whomever she chooses; and a man can be sure of having not only many but uninterrupted dances with the one he most wants to be with—provided "she" is willing. Why the dance-card is unheard of at private balls in New York is hard to determine, except that fashionable society does not care to take its pleasure on schedule! The gilded youth likes to dance when the impulse moves him; he also likes to be able to stay or leave when he pleases. In New York there are often two or three dances given on the same evening, and he likes to drift from one to the other just as he likes to drift from one partner to another, or not dance at all if he does not want to. A man who writes himself down for the tenth jazz must be eagerly appearing on the stroke of the first bar. Or if he does not engage his partners busily at the opening of the evening, he can not dance at all—he may not want to, but he hates not being able to.

So again we come back to the present situation and the problem of the average young girl whose right it is, because of her youth and sweetness, to be happy and young—and not to be terrified, wretched and neglected. The one and only solution seems to be for her to join a group.

THE FLOCK-SYSTEM OF THE WISE FLEDGLINGS

If a number of young girls and young men come together—better yet, if they go everywhere together, always sit in a flock, always go to supper together, always dance with one another—they not only have a good time but they are sure to be popular with drifting odd men also. If a man knows that having asked a girl to dance, one of her group will inevitably "cut in," he is eager to dance with her. Or if he can take her "to the others" when they have danced long enough, he is not only delighted to be with her for a while but to sit with her "and the others" off and on throughout that and every other evening, because since there are always "some of them together" he can go again the moment he chooses.

Certain groups of clever girls sit in precisely the same place in a ballroom, to the right of the door, or the left, or in a corner. One might almost say they form a little club; they dance as much as they like, but come back "home" between whiles. They all go to supper together, and whether individuals have partners or not is scarcely noticeable, nor even known by themselves.

No young girl, unless she is a marked favorite, should ever go to a ball alone. If her especial "flock" has not as yet been systematized, she must go to a dinner before every dance, so as to go, and stay, with a group. If she is not asked to dinner, her mother must give one for her; or she must have at least one dependable beau—or better, two—who will wait for her and look out for her.

MAID GOES WITH HER

A young girl who goes to a ball without a chaperon (meaning of course a private ball), takes a maid with her who sits in the dressing-room the entire evening. Not only is it thought proper to have a maid waiting, but nothing can add more to the panic of a partnerless girl than to feel she has not even a means of escape by going home; she can always call a taxi as long as her maid is with her, and go. Otherwise she either has to stay in the ballroom or sit forlorn among the visiting maids in the dressing-room.

WHAT MAKES A YOUNG GIRL A BALLROOM SUCCESS

Much of the above is so pessimistic one might suppose that a ballroom is always a chamber of torture and the young girl taken as an example above, a very drab and distorted caricature of what "a real young girl" should be and is. But remember, the young girl who is a "belle of the ballroom" needs no advice on how to manage a happy situation; no thought spent on how to make a perfect time better. The ballroom is the most wonderful stage-setting there is for the girl who is a ballroom success. And for this, especial talents are needed just as they are for art or sport or any other accomplishment.

The great ballroom success, first and foremost, dances well. Almost always she is pretty. Beauty counts enormously at a ball. The girl who is beautiful and dances well is, of course, the ideal ballroom belle. But—this for encouragement—these qualities can in a measure at least be acquired. All things being more or less equal, the girl who dances best has the most partners. Let a daughter of Venus or the heiress of Midas dance badly, and she might better stay at home.

To dance divinely is an immortal gift, but to dance well can (except in obstinate cases, as the advertisements say) be taught. Let us suppose therefore, that she dances well, that she has a certain degree of looks, that she is fairly intelligent. The next most important thing, after dancing well, is to be unafraid, and to look as though she were having a good time. Conversational cleverness is of no account in a ballroom; some of the greatest belles ever known have been as stupid as sheep, but they have had happy dispositions and charming and un-self-conscious manners. There is one thing every girl who would really be popular should learn, in fact, she must learn—self-unconsciousness! The best advice might be to follow somewhat the precepts of mental science and make herself believe that a good time exists in her own mind. If she can become possessed with the idea that she is having a good time and look as though she were, the psychological effect is astonishing.

"CUTTING IN"

When one of the "stags" standing in the doorway sees a girl dance past whom he wants to dance with, he darts forward, lays his hand on the shoulder of her partner, who relinquishes his place in favor of the newcomer, and a third in turn does the same to him. Or, the one, who was first dancing with her, may "cut in on" the partner who took her from him, after she has danced once around the ballroom. This seemingly far from polite maneuver, is considered correct behavior in best society in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Chicago, San Francisco, and therefore most likely in all parts of America. (Not in London, nor on the Continent.)

At dances organized during the War in the canteens for soldiers and sailors on furlough, the men refused to "cut in" because they thought it was rude and undoubtedly it is, except that custom has made it acceptable. If, however, it still seems "rude" to the young men of Othertown to "cut in," then they should not do so.

SITTING OUT DANCES

On the other hand, if a girl is sitting in another room, or on the stairs with a man alone, a second one should not interrupt, or ask her to dance. If she is sitting in a group, he can go up and ask her, "Don't you want to dance some of this?" She then either smiles and says, "Not just now—I am very tired," or if she likes him, she may add, "Come and sit with us!"

To refuse to dance with one man and then immediately dance with another is an open affront to the first one—excusable only if he was intoxicated or otherwise actually offensive so that the affront was both intentional and justifiable. But under ordinary circumstances, if she is "dancing," she must dance with everyone who asks her; if she is "not dancing," she must not make exceptions.

An older lady can very properly refuse to dance and then perhaps dance briefly with her son or husband, without hurting her guest's proper pride, but having refused to dance with one gentleman she must not change her mind and dance later with another.

A young girl who is dancing may not refuse to change partners when another "cuts in." This is the worst phase of the "cutting in" custom; those who particularly want to dance together are often unable to take more than a dozen steps before being interrupted. Once in a while a girl will shake her head "No" to a "stag" who darts toward her. But that is considered rude. A few others have devised dancing with their eyes shut as a signal that they do not want to be "cut in on." But this is neither customary nor even a generally known practise.

It is always the privilege of the girl to stop dancing; a man is supposed to dance on and on, until she—or the music—stops.

ASKING FOR A DANCE

When a gentleman is introduced to a lady he says, "May I have some of this?" or "Would you care to dance?"

A lady never asks a gentleman to dance, or to go to supper with her, though she may if she is older, or if she is a young girl who is one of a "flock," she may say "Come and sit at our table!" This however would not imply that in sitting at "their" table he is supposed to sit next to her.

In asking a lady to go to supper, a gentleman should say "Will you go to supper with me?" Or "May I take you to supper?" He should never say, "Have you a partner?" as she is put in an awkward position in having to admit that she has none.

A BALL IS NOT A DANCING SCHOOL

Since a girl may not without rudeness refuse to dance with a man who "cuts in," a man who does not know how to dance is inexcusably inconsiderate if he "cuts in" on a good dancer and compels a young girl to become instructress for his own pleasure with utter disregard of hers. If at home, or elsewhere, a young girl volunteers to "teach" him, that is another matter, but even so, the ballroom is no place to practise—unless he is very sure that his dancing is not so bad as to be an imposition on his teacher.

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NOVELTIES AND INNOVATIONS

Formal occasions demand strict conventions. At an important wedding, at a dinner of ceremony, at a ball, it is not only bad form but shocking to deviate from accepted standards of formality. "Surprize" is an element that must be avoided on all dignified occasions. Those therefore, who think it would be original and pleasing to spring surprizes on their guests at an otherwise conventional and formal entertainment, should save their ideas for a children's party where surprizes not only belong, but are delightedly appreciated. To be sure, one might perhaps consider that scenic effects or unusual diversions, such as one sees at a costume ball or a "period" dinner, belong under the head of "surprize." But in the first place such entertainments are not conventional; and in the second, details that are in accordance with the period or design of the ball or dinner are "conventions" after all.

On the other hand, in the country especially, nothing can be more fun or more appropriate than a barn dance, or an impromptu play, or a calico masquerade, with properties and clothes made of any old thing and in a few hours—even in a few minutes.

Music need not be an orchestra but it must be good, and the floor must be adequate and smooth. The supper is of secondary importance. As for manners, even though they may be "unrestrained," they can be meticulously perfect for all that! There is no more excuse for rude or careless or selfish behavior at a picnic than at a ball.

PUBLIC BALLS

A public ball is a ball given for a benefit or charity. A committee makes the arrangements and tickets are sold to the public, either by being put on sale at hotels or at the house of the secretary of the committee. A young girl of social position does not go to a public ball without a chaperon. To go in the company of one or more gentlemen would be an unheard-of breach of propriety.

SUBSCRIPTION DANCES AND BALLS

These are often of greater importance in a community than any number of its private balls. In Boston and Philadelphia for instance, a person's social standing is dependent upon whether or not she or he is "invited to the Assemblies." The same was once true in New York when the Patriarch and Assembly Balls were the dominating entertainments. In Baltimore too, a man's social standing is non-existent if he does not belong to the "Monday Germans," and in many other cities membership in the subscription dances or dancing classes or sewing circles distinctly draws the line between the inside somebodies and the outside nobodies.

Subscription dances such as these are managed and all invitations are issued by patronesses who are always ladies of unquestioned social prominence. Usually these patronesses are elected for life, or at least for a long period of years. When for one reason or another a vacancy occurs, a new member is elected by the others to fill her place. No outsider may ever ask to become a member. Usually a number of names are suggested and voted on at a meeting, and whoever wins the highest number of votes is elected.

The expenses of balls such as Assemblies, are borne by the patronesses collectively, but other types of dances are paid for by subscribers who are invited to "take tickets"—as will be explained.

How Subscription Dances Are Organized

Whether in city, town or village, the organization is the same: A small group of important ladies decide that it would be agreeable to have two or three balls—or maybe only one—a season. This original group then suggests additional names until they have all agreed upon a list sufficient in size to form a nucleus. These then are invited to join, and all of them at another meeting decide on the final size of the list and whom it is to include. The list may be a hundred, or it may stay at the original group of a half dozen or so. Let us for example say the complete list is fifty. Fifty ladies, therefore, the most prominent possible, are the patronesses or managers, or whatever they choose to call themselves. They also elect a chairman, a vice-chairman, a secretary, and a treasurer. They then elect seven or eight others who are to constitute the managing committee. The other thirty-eight or forty are merely "members" who will pay their dues and have the right to a certain number of tickets for each of the balls. These tickets, by the way, are never actually sent by the members themselves, who merely submit the names of the guests they have chosen to the committee on invitations. This is the only practical way to avoid duplication. Otherwise, let us say that Mrs. Oldname, Mrs. Worldly, Mrs. Norman and Mrs. Gilding each send their two tickets to the young Smartlingtons, which would mean that the Smartlingtons would have to return three, and those three invitations would start off on a second journey perhaps to be returned again.

On the other hand, if each patroness sends in a list, the top names which have not yet been entered in the "invitation book" are automatically selected, and the committee notify her to whom her invitations went.

There is also another very important reason for the sending in of every name to the committee: exclusiveness. Otherwise the balls would all too easily deteriorate into the character of public ones. Every name must be approved by the committee on invitations, who always hold a special meeting for the purpose, so that no matter how willing a certain careless member would be to include Mr. and Mrs. Unsuitable, she is powerless to send them tickets if they are not approved of.

As a matter of fact there is rarely any question of withholding invitations, since a serious objection would have to be sustained against one to warrant such an action on the part of the committee.

Number of Invitations Issued

With fifty members, each might perhaps be allowed, besides her own ticket, two ladies' invitations and four gentlemen's. That would make three hundred and fifty invitations available altogether. The founders can of course decide on whatever number they choose. Patronesses can also exchange tickets. One who might want to ask a double number of guests to the "First Assembly" can arrange with another to exchange her "Second Assembly" invitations for "First" ones. Also it often happens that the entire list sent in by a member has already been included, and not wanting to use her tickets, she gives them to another member who may have a debutante daughter and therefore be in need of extra ones.

Bachelor Balls (like the "Monday Germans" of Baltimore) are run by the gentlemen instead of the ladies. Otherwise they are the same as the Assemblies.

Other Forms of Subscription Dances

Other forms are somewhat different in that instead of dividing the expenses between members who jointly issue invitations to few or many guests, the committee of ten, we will say, invites either all the men who are supposed to be eligible or all the young girls, to subscribe to a certain number of tickets.

For instance, dances known usually as Junior Assemblies or the Holiday Dances are organized by a group of ladies—the mothers, usually, of debutantes. The members of the organization are elected just as the others are, for life. But they are apt after a few years, when their daughters are "too old," to resign in favor of others whose daughters are beginning to be grown. The debutantes of highest social position are invited to become members. Each one pays "dues" and has the privilege of asking two men to each dance. Mothers are not expected to go to these dances unless they are themselves patronesses. Sometimes young women go to these dances until they marry; often they are for debutantes, but most often they are for girls the year before they "come out," and for boys who are in college.

Patronesses Receive

At a subscription dance where patronesses take the place of a hostess, about four of these ladies are especially selected by the ball committee to receive. They always stand in line and bow to each person who is announced, but do not shake hands. The guest arriving also bows to the hostesses collectively (not four times). A lady, for instance, is announced: she takes a few steps toward the "receiving line" and makes a slight courtesy; the ladies receiving make a courtesy in unison, and the guest passes on. A gentleman bows ceremoniously, the way he was taught in dancing school, and the ladies receiving incline their heads.



CHAPTER XVIII

THE DEBUTANTE

HOW A YOUNG GIRL IS PRESENTED TO SOCIETY

Any one of various entertainments may be given to present a young girl to society. The favorite and most elaborate of these, but possible only to parents of considerable wealth and wide social acquaintance, is a ball. Much less elaborate, but equal in size, and second in favor to-day, is an afternoon tea with dancing. Third, and gaining in popularity, is a small dance, which presents the debutante to the younger set and a few of her mother's intimate friends. Fourth, is a small tea without music. Fifth, the mere sending out of the mother's visiting card with the daughter's name engraved below her own, announces to the world that the daughter is eligible for invitations.

A BALL FOR A DEBUTANTE

A ball for a debutante differs in nothing from all other balls excepting that the debutante "receives" standing beside the hostess, and furthest from the entrance, whether that happens to be on the latter's right or left. The guests as they mount the stairs or enter the ballroom and are "announced," approach the hostess first, who, as she shakes hands with each, turns to the debutante and says "Mrs. Worldly, my daughter." Or "Cynthia, I want to present you to Mrs. Worldly." ("Want to" is used on this occasion because "may I" is too formal for a mother to say to her child.) A friend would probably know the daughter; in any event the mother's introduction would be, "You remember Cynthia, don't you?"

Each arriving guest always shakes hands with the debutante as well as with the hostess, and if there is a queue of people coming at the same time, there is no need of saying anything beyond "How do you do?" and passing on as quickly as possible. If there are no others entering at the moment, each guest makes a few pleasant remarks. A stranger, for instance, would perhaps comment on how lovely, and many, the debutante's bouquets are, or express a hope that she will enjoy her winter, or talk for a moment or two about the "gaiety of the season" or "the lack of balls," or anything that shows polite interest in the young girl's first glimpse of society. A friend of her mother might perhaps say "You look too lovely, Cynthia dear, and your dress is enchanting!"

Personal compliments, however, are proper only from a close friend. No acquaintance, unless she is quite old, should ever make personal remarks. An old lady or gentleman might very forgivably say "You don't mind, my dear, if I tell you how sweet I think you look," or "What a pretty frock you have on." But it is bad taste for a young woman to say to another "What a handsome dress you have on!" and worst of all to add "Where did you get it?" The young girl's particular friends are, of course, apt to tell her that her dress is wonderful, or more likely, "simply divine."

It is customary in most cities to send a debutante a bouquet at her "coming out" party. They may be "bouquets" really, or baskets, or other decorative flowers, and are sent by relatives, friends of the family, her father's business associates, as well as by young men admirers. These "bouquets" are always banked near and if possible, around the place the debutante stands to receive. If she has great quantities, they are placed about the room wherever they look most effective. The debutante usually holds one of the bouquets while receiving, but she should remember that her choice of this particular one among the many sent her is somewhat pointed to the giver, so that unless she is willing to acknowledge one particular beau as "best" it is wiser to carry one sent by her father, or brother, especially if either send her one of the tiny 1830 bouquets that have been for a year or two in fashion, and are no weight to hold.

These bouquets are about as big around as an ordinary saucer, and just as flat on top as a saucer placed upside down. The flowers chosen are rosebuds or other compact flowers, massed tightly together, and arranged in a precise pattern; for instance, three or four pink rosebuds are put in the center, around them a row of white violets, around these a single row of the pink roses, surrounded again by violets, and so on for four or five rows. The bouquet is then set in stiff white lace paper, manufactured for the purpose, the stems wrapped in white satin ribbon, with streamers of white and pink ribbons about a quarter of an inch wide and tied to hang twenty inches or so long. The colors and patterns in which these little bouquets may be made are unlimited.

THE DEBUTANTE RECEIVES

At a ball, where the guests begin coming about half past ten, the debutante must stand beside the hostess and "receive" until at least twelve o'clock—later if guests still continue to arrive.

At all coming-out parties, the debutante invites a few of her best girl friends to receive with her. Whether the party is in the afternoon or evening, these young girls wear evening dresses and come early and stay late. Their being asked to "receive" is a form of expression merely, as they never stand in line, and other than wearing pretty clothes and thus adding to the picture, they have no "duties" whatsoever.

AT SUPPER

The debutante goes to supper with a partner who has surely spoken for the privilege weeks or even months beforehand. But the rest of her own table is always made up by herself; that is, it includes the young girls who are her most intimate friends, and their supper partners. Her table is usually in the center of the dining-room, but, there is no especial decoration to distinguish it, except that it is often somewhat larger than the other tables surrounding it, and a footman or waiter is detailed to tell any who may attempt to take it, that it is "reserved."

After supper the debutante has no duties and is free to enjoy herself.

The afternoon tea with dancing is described in the chapter on Teas and needs no further comment, since its etiquette is precisely the same as that for a ball. The debutante's bouquets are arranged as effectively as possible, and she receives with her mother, or whoever the hostess may be, until the queue of arriving guests thins out, after which she need be occupied with nothing but her own good time, and that of her friends.

Those of smaller means, or those who object to hotel rooms, ask only younger people, and give the tea in their own house. Where there are two rooms on a floor—drawing-room in front, dining-room back, and a library on the floor above, the guests are received in the drawing-room, but whether they dance in the dining-room or up in the library, depends upon which room is the larger. In either case the furniture is moved out. If possible the smallest room should be used to receive in, the largest to dance in, and the tea-table should be set in the medium one.

HOW MANY GUESTS MAY ONE ASK?

A hostess should never try to pack her house beyond the limits of its capacity. This question of how many invitations may safely be sent out is one which each hostess must answer for herself, since beyond a few obvious generalities no one can very well advise her.

Taking a hostess of "average" social position, who is bringing out a daughter of "average" attractiveness and popularity, it would be safe to say that every debutante and younger man asked to a party of any kind where there is dancing, will accept, but that not more than from half to one-third of the older people asked will put in an appearance.

LAVISH PARTIES GIVING WAY TO SIMPLE ONES

A ball, by the way, is always a general entertainment, meaning that invitations are sent to the entire dinner list—not only actual but potential—of the host and hostess, as well as to the younger people who are either themselves friends of the debutante, or daughters and sons of the friends, and acquaintances of the hostess.

A dance differs from a ball in that it is smaller, less elaborate and its invitations are limited to the contemporaries of the debutante, or at most the youngest married set.

Invitations to a tea are even more general and should include a hostess' entire visiting list, irrespective of age or even personal acquaintance. The old-fashioned visiting list of the young hostess included the entire list of her mother, plus that of her mother-in-law, to which was added all the names acquired in her own social life. It can easily be seen that this list became a formidable volume by the time her daughter was old enough to "come out," and yet this entire list was supposed to be included in all "general" invitations!

In the present day, however, at least in New York, there is a growing tendency to eliminate these general or "impersonal" invitations. In smartest society, it is not even considered necessary that a "general" entertainment be given to introduce a daughter. In New York last winter there were scarcely a dozen private balls all told. Many of the most fashionable (and richest) hostesses gave dances limited to young girls of their daughters' ages and young dancing men. Even at many of the teas-with-dancing none but young people were asked.

Anyone who likes to sit on the bank and watch the tides of fashion rise and fall, cannot fail to notice that big and lavish entertainments are dwindling, and small and informal ones increasing. It is equally apparent, contrary to popular opinion, that extravagance of expenditure is growing less and less. It is years since any one has given such a ball, for instance, as the Venetian fete the Gildings gave to bring out their eldest daughter, when the entire first floor of the Fitz-Cherry was turned into a replica of Venice—canals, gondolas, and all. Or the Persian ball of the Vanstyles where the whole house was hung, as a background for Oriental costumes, with copper-gold draperies, against which stood at intervals Maxfield Parrish cypress trees. Or the moonlight dance of the Worldlys which was not a fancy dress one, but for which the ballroom was turned into a garden scene, lighted by simulated moonlight that would have added to the renown of Belasco.

Such entertainments as these seem almost "out of key" with the attitude of to-day. For although fancy-dress and elaborate parties are occasionally given, they are not usually given for debutantes, nor on the scale of those mentioned above.

THE DEBUTANTE'S DRESS

At a ball, the debutante wears her very prettiest ball dress. Old-fashioned sentiment prefers that it be white, and of some diaphanous material, such as net or gauze or lace. It ought not to look overelaborate, even though it is spangled with silver or crystal or is made of sheer lace. It should suggest something light and airy and gay and, above all, young. For a young girl to whom white is unbecoming, a color is perfectly suitable as long as it is a pale shade. She should not wear strong colors such as red, or Yale blue, and on no account black! Her mother, of course, wears as handsome a ball dress as possible, and "all her jewels."

At an afternoon tea the debutante wears an evening dress—a very simple evening dress, but an evening dress all the same. Usually a very pale color, and quite untrimmed, such as she might wear at home for dinner. Her mother wears an afternoon dress, not an evening one. Both mother and daughter wear long gloves, and neither they, nor the young girls receiving, wear hats.

To describe the details of clothes is futile. Almost before this page comes from the printer, the trend may quite likely change. But the tendency of the moment is toward greater simplicity—in effect at all events.

IN CONFIDENCE TO A DEBUTANTE

Let us pretend a worldly old godmother is speaking, and let us suppose that you are a young girl on the evening of your coming-out ball. You are excited, of course you are! It is your evening, and you are a sort of little princess! There is music, and there are lights, and there are flowers everywhere—a great ballroom massed with them, tables heaped with bouquets—all for you! You have on an especially beautiful dress—one that was selected from among many others, just because it seemed to you the prettiest. Even your mother and married sister who, "en grande tenue," have always seemed to you dazzling figures, have for the moment become, for all their brocades and jewels, merely background; and you alone are the center of the picture. Up the wide staircase come throngs of fashionables—who mean "the world." They are coming on purpose to bow to you! You can't help feeling that the glittering dresses, the tiaras, the ropes of pearls and chains of diamonds of the "dowagers," the stiff white shirt-fronts and boutonnieres and perfectly fitting coats of the older gentlemen, as well as the best clothes of all the younger people, were all put on for you.

You shake hands and smile sweetly to a number of older ladies and shake hands with an equal number of gentlemen, all very politely and properly. Then suddenly, half way up the stairs you see Betty and Anne and Fred and Ollie. Of course your attention is drawn to them. You are vaguely conscious that the butler is shouting some stupid name you never heard of—that you don't care in the least about. Your mother's voice is saying "Mrs. zzzzzz——,"

Impatiently you give your hand to someone—you haven't the slightest idea who it is. So far as your interest is concerned, you might as well be brushing away annoying flies. Your smiles are directed to Betty and Anne. As they reach the top of the stairs you dart forward and enter into an excited conversation, deliberately overlooking a lady and gentleman who, without trying further to attract your attention, pass on. Later in the winter you will perhaps wonder why you alone among your friends are never asked to Great Estates. The lady and gentleman of whom you are so rudely unaware, happen to be Mr. and Mrs. Worldly, and you have entirely forgotten that you are a hostess, and furthermore that you have the whole evening, beginning at supper, when you can talk to these friends of yours! You can dance with Fred and Ollie and Jimmy all the rest of the evening; you can spend most of your time with them for the rest of your life if you and they choose. But when you are out in public, above all at a party which is for you, your duty in commonest civility is to overcome your impulses, and behave as a grown-up person—and a well-bred grown-up person at that!

It takes scarcely more than ten seconds to listen to the name that is said to you, to look directly and attentively at the one to whom the name belongs, to put out your hand firmly as you would take hold of something you like, (not something that you feel an aversion to), and with a smile say "How do you do." At your ball your mother says "Mrs. Worldly, my daughter." You look directly at Mrs. Worldly, put out your hand, say "How do you do, Mrs. Worldly." And she passes on. It takes no longer to be cordial and attentive than to be distrait and casual and rude, yet the impression made in a few seconds of actual time may easily gain or lose a friend for life. When no other guests are arriving, you can chatter to your own friends as much as you like, but as you turn to greet another stranger, you must show pleasure, not annoyance, in giving him your attention.

A happy attitude to cultivate is to think in your own mind that new people are all packages in a grab-bag, and that you can never tell what any of them may prove to be until you know what is inside the outer wrappings of casual appearances. To be sure, the old woman of the fairy tale, who turns out to be a fairy in disguise, is not often met with in real life, but neither is her approximate counterpart an impossibility.

As those who have sent you flowers approach, you must thank them; you must also write later an additional note of thanks to older people. But to your family or your own intimate friends, the verbal thanks—if not too casually made—are sufficient.

A FEW DON'TS FOR DEBUTANTES

Don't think that because you have a pretty face, you need neither brains nor manners. Don't think that you can be rude to anyone and escape being disliked for it.

Whispering is always rude. Whispering and giggling at the same time have no place in good society. Everything that shows lack of courtesy toward others is rude.

If you would be thought a person of refinement, don't nudge or pat or finger people. Don't hold hands or walk arm-about-waist in public. Never put your hand on a man, except in dancing and in taking his arm if he is usher at a wedding or your partner for dinner or supper. Don't allow anyone to paw you. Don't hang on anyone for support, and don't stand or walk with your chest held in, and your hips forward, in imitation of a reversed letter S.

Don't walk across a ballroom floor swinging your arms. Don't talk or laugh loud enough to attract attention, and on no account force yourself to laugh. Nothing is flatter than laughter that is lacking in mirth. If you only laugh because something is irresistibly funny, the chances are your laugh will be irresistible too. In the same way a smile should be spontaneous, because you feel happy and pleasant; nothing has less allure than a mechanical grimace, as though you were trying to imitate a tooth-paste advertisement.

WHERE ARE THE "BELLES" OF YESTERDAY?

In olden days and until a comparatively short while ago, a young girl's social success was invariably measured by her popularity in a ballroom. It was the girl who had the most partners, who least frequently sat "against the wall," who carried home the greatest quantity of the baubles known as "favors," who was that evening's and usually the season's belle.

But to-day although ballroom popularity is still important as a test by which a young girl's success is measured, it is by no means the beginning and end that it used to be.

As repeated several times in this book, the day of the belle is past; beaux belong to the past too. To-day is the day of woman's equality with man, and if in proving her equality she has come down from a pedestal, her pedestal was perhaps a theatrical "property" at best and not to be compared for solid satisfaction with the level ground of the entirely real position she now occupies.

A girl's popularity in a ballroom is of importance to be sure, but not greatly more so than the dancing popularity of a youth.

There was a time when "wall-flowers" went to balls night after night where they either sat beside a chaperon or spent the evening in the dressing-room in tears. To-day a young girl who finds she is not a ballroom success avoids ballrooms and seeks her success otherwhere. She does not sit in a corner and hope against hope that her "luck will turn" and that Prince Charming will surely some evening discover her. She sizes up the situation exactly as a boy might size up his own chances to "make" the crew or the football team.

TO-DAY'S SPECIALISTS IN SUCCESS

The girl of to-day soon discovers, if she does not know it already, that to be a ballroom belle it is necessary first of all to dance really well. A girl may be as beautiful as a young Diana or as fascinating as Circe, but if she is heavy or steps on her first partner's toes, never again will he ask her to dance. And the news spreads in an instant.

The girl of to-day therefore knows she must learn to dance well, which is difficult, since dancers are born, not made; or she must go to balls for supper only, or not go to balls at all, unless—she plays a really good game of bridge! In which case, her chances for popularity at the bridge tables, which are at all balls to-day, are quite as good as though she were a young Pavlowa in the ballroom. Or perhaps she skates, or hunts, or plays a wonderful game of tennis or golf, each one of which opens a vista leading to popularity, and the possibilities for a "good time" which was after all the mainspring of old-fashioned ballroom success.

And since the day of femininity that is purely ornamental and utterly useless is gone by, it is the girl who does things well who finds life full of interests and of friends and of happiness. The old idea also has passed that measures a girl's popular success by the number of trousered figures around her. It is quality, not quantity, that counts; and the girl who surrounds herself with indiscriminate and possibly "cheap" youths does not excite the envy but the derision of beholders. To the highest type of young girl to-day it makes very little difference whether, in the inevitable "group" in which she is perpetually to be found, there are more men than girls or the opposite.

This does not mean that human nature has changed—scarcely! There always are and doubtless always will be any number of women to whom admiration and flirtation is the very breath of their nostrils, who love to parade a beau just as they love to parade a new dress. But the tendencies of the time do not encourage the flirtatious attitude. It is not considered a triumph to have many love affairs, but rather an evidence of stupidity and bad taste.

FRANKNESS OF TO-DAY

A young man playing tennis with a young girl a generation ago would have been forced patiently to toss her gentle balls and keep his boredom to himself, or he would have held her chin in his hand, while he himself stood shivering for hours in three feet of water, and tried his best to disguise his opinion as to the hopelessness of her ever learning to swim.

To-day he would frankly tell her she had better play tennis for a year or two with a "marker" or struggle at swimming by herself, and any sensible girl would take that advice!

FOR WHAT SHE REALLY IS

Instead of depending upon beauty, upon sex-appeal, the young girl who is "the success of to-day" depends chiefly upon her actual character and disposition. It is not even so necessary to do something well as to refrain from doing things badly. If she is not good at sports, or games, or dancing, then she must find out what she is good at and do that! If she is good for nothing but to look in the glass and put rouge on her lips and powder her nose and pat her hair, life is going to be a pretty dreary affair. In other days beauty was worshiped for itself alone, and it has votaries of sorts to-day. But the best type of modern youth does not care for beauty, as his father did; in fact, he doesn't care a bit for it, if it has nothing to "go with it," any more than he cares for butter with no bread to spread it on. Beauty and wit, and heart, and other qualifications or attributes is another matter altogether.

A gift of more value than beauty, is charm, which in a measure is another word for sympathy, or the power to put yourself in the place of others; to be interested in whatever interests them, so as to be pleasing to them, if possible, but not to occupy your thoughts in futilely wondering what they think about you.

Would you know the secret of popularity? It is unconsciousness of self, altruistic interest, and inward kindliness, outwardly expressed in good manners.



CHAPTER XIX

THE CHAPERON AND OTHER CONVENTIONS

A GLOOMY WORD

Of course there are chaperons and chaperons! But it must be said that the very word has a repellent schoolteacherish sound. One pictures instinctively a humorless tyrant whose "correct" manner plainly reveals her true purpose, which is to take the joy out of life. That she can be—and often is—a perfectly human and sympathetic person, whose unselfish desire is merely to smooth the path of one who is the darling of her heart, in nothing alters the feeling of gloom that settles upon the spirit of youth at the mention of the very word "chaperon."

FREEDOM OF THE CHAPERONED

As a matter of fact the only young girl who is really "free," is she whose chaperon is never very far away. She need give conventionality very little thought, and not bother about her P's and Q's at all, because her chaperon is always a strong and protective defense; but a young girl who is unprotected by a chaperon is in the position precisely of an unarmed traveler walking alone among wolves—his only defense is in not attracting their notice.

To be sure the time has gone by when the presence of an elderly lady is indispensable to every gathering of young people. Young girls for whose sole benefit and protection the chaperon exists (she does not exist for her own pleasure, youthful opinion to the contrary notwithstanding), have infinitely greater freedom from her surveillance than had those of other days, and the typical chaperon is seldom seen with any but very young girls, too young to have married friends. Otherwise a young married woman, a bride perhaps scarcely out of her teens, is, on all ordinary occasions, a perfectly suitable chaperon, especially if her husband is present. A very young married woman gadding about without her husband is not a proper chaperon.

There are also many occasions when a chaperon is unnecessary! It is considered perfectly correct for a young girl to drive a motor by herself, or take a young man with her, if her family know and approve of him, for any short distance in the country. She may play golf, tennis, go to the Country Club, or Golf Club (if near by), sit on the beach, go canoeing, ride horseback, and take part in the normal sports and occupations of country life. Young girls always go to private parties of every sort without their own chaperon, but the fact that a lady issues an invitation means that either she or another suitable chaperon will be present.

THE BEST CHAPERON HERSELF

Ethically the only chaperon is the young girl's own sense of dignity and pride; she who has the right attributes of character needs no chaperon—ever. If she is wanting in decency and proper pride, not even Argus could watch over her! But apart from ethics, there are the conventions to think of, and the conventions of propriety demand that very young woman must be protected by a chaperon, because otherwise she will be misjudged.

THE RESIDENT CHAPERON

No young girl may live alone. Even though she has a father, unless he devotes his entire time to her, she must also have a resident chaperon who protects her reputation until she is married or old enough to protect it herself—which is not until she has reached a fairly advanced age, of perhaps thirty years or over if she is alone, or twenty-six or so if she lives in her father's house and behaves with such irreproachable circumspection that Mrs. Grundy is given no chance to set tongues wagging.

It goes without saying that a chaperon is always a lady, often one whose social position is better than that of her charge; occasionally she is a social sponsor as well as a moral one. Her position, if she is not a relative, is very like that of a companion. Above all, a chaperon must have dignity, and if she is to be of any actual service, she must be kind of heart and have intelligent sympathy and tact. To have her charge not only care for her, but be happy with her, is the only possible way such a relationship can endure.

Needless to say a chaperon's own conduct must be irreproachable and her knowledge of the world such as can only be gained by personal experience; but she need not be an old lady! She can perfectly well be reasonably young, and a spinster.

Very often the chaperon "keeps the house," but she is never called a "housekeeper." Nor is she a "secretary" though she probably draws the checks and audits the bills.

It is by no means unusual for mothers who are either very gay or otherwise busy, and cannot give most of their time to their grown and growing daughters, to put them in charge of a resident chaperon. Often their governess—if she is a woman of the world—gives up her autocracy of the schoolroom and becomes social guardian instead.

THE DUTIES OF A CHAPERON

It is unnecessary to say that a chaperon has no right to be inquisitive or interfering unless for a very good reason. If an objectionable person—meaning one who can not be considered a gentleman—is inclined to show the young girl attentions, it is of course her duty to cut the acquaintance short at the beginning before the young girl's interest has become aroused. For just such a contingency as this it is of vital importance that confidence and sympathy exist between the chaperon and her charge. No modern young girl is likely to obey blindly unless she values the opinions of one in whose judgment and affection she has learned to believe.

WHEN INVITATIONS ARE SENT OUT BY A CHAPERON

Usually if a young girl is an orphan, living with a chaperon, a ball or formal party would be given in the name of an aunt or other near relative. If her father is alive, the invitations go out in his name of course, and he receives with her. But if it should happen that she has no near family at all, or if her chaperon is her social sponsor, the chaperon's name can be put on invitations. For example:

Miss Abigail Titherington

Miss Rosalie Gray

will be at home

on Saturday the fifth of December

from four until six o'clock

The Fitz-Cherry

Rosalie has no very near relatives and Miss Titherington has brought her up.

In sending out the invitations for a dinner (a young girl would not be giving a formal dinner) Rosalie telephones her friends "Will you dine with me (or us) next Monday?" or, "On the sixteenth?" It is not necessary to mention Miss Titherington because it is taken for granted that she will be present.

It is also not considered proper for a young girl ever to be alone as hostess. When she invites young girls and men to her house, Miss Titherington either "receives" them or comes into the room while they are there. If the time is afternoon, very likely she pours tea and when everyone has been helped, she goes into another room. She does not stay with them ever, but she is never very far away.

The chaperon (or a parent) should never go to bed until the last young man has left the house. It is an unforgivable breach of decorum to allow a young girl to sit up late at night with a young man—or a number of them. On returning home from a party, she must not invite or allow a man to "come in for a while." Even her fiance must bid her good night at the door if the hour is late, and some one ought always to sit up, or get up, to let her in. No young girl ought to let herself in with a latch-key.

In old-fashioned days no lady had a latch-key. And it is still fitting and proper for a servant to open the door for her.

A young girl may not, even with her fiance, lunch in a road house without a chaperon, or go on a journey that can by any possibility last over night. To go out with him in a small sail-boat sounds harmless enough, but might result in a questionable situation if they are becalmed, or if they are left helpless in a sudden fog. The Maine coast, for example, is particularly subject to fogs that often shut down without warning and no one going out on the water can tell whether he will be able to get back within a reasonable time or not. A man and a girl went out from Bar Harbor and did not get back until next day. Everyone knew the fog had come in as thick as pea-soup and that it was impossible to get home; but to the end of time her reputation will suffer for the experience.

A FEW PRECEPTS OF CONVENTION

At a dinner party given for young people in a private house, a somewhat older sister would be a sufficient chaperon. Or the young hostess' mother after receiving the guests may, if she chooses, dine with her husband elsewhere than in the dining-room, the parents' roof being supposedly chaperonage enough.

In going to tea in a college man's room, or in a bachelor's apartment, the proper chaperon should be a lady of fairly mature years. To see two or three apparently young people going into a bachelor's quarters would be open to criticism. There are many places which are unsuitable for young girls to go to whether they are chaperoned or not. No well brought up young girl should be allowed to go to supper at a cabaret until she is married, or has passed the age when "very young" can be applied to her.

CONVENTIONS THAT CHANGE WITH LOCALITY

In New York, for instance, no young girl of social standing may, without being criticized, go alone with a man to the theater. Absolutely no lady (unless middle-aged-and even then she would be defying convention) can go to dinner or supper in a restaurant alone with a gentleman. A lady, not young, who is staying in a very dignified hotel, can have a gentleman dine with her. But any married woman, if her husband does not object, may dine alone in her own home with any man she pleases or have a different one come in to tea every day in the week without being criticized.

A very young girl may motor around the country alone with a man, with her father's consent, or sit with him on the rocks by the sea or on a log in the woods; but she must not sit with him in a restaurant. All of which is about as upside down as it can very well be. In a restaurant they are not only under the surveillance of many eyes, but they can scarcely speak without being overheard, whereas short-distance motoring, driving, riding, walking or sitting on the seashore has no element of protection certainly. Again, though she may not lunch with him in a restaurant, she is sometimes (not always) allowed to go to a moving picture matinee with him! Why sitting in the dark in a moving picture theater is allowed, and the restaurant is tabu is very mysterious.

Older girls and young married women are beginning to lunch with men they know well in some of the New York restaurants, but not in others. In many cities it would be scandalous for a young married woman to lunch with a man not her husband, but quite all right for a young girl and man to lunch at a country club. This last is reasonable because the room is undoubtedly filled with people they know—who act as potential chaperons. Nearly everywhere it is thought proper for them to go to a dancing club for tea, if the "club" is managed by a chaperon.

As said above, interpretation of what is proper shifts according to locality. Even in Victorian days it was proper in Baltimore for a young girl to go to the theater alone with a man, and to have him see her home from a ball was not only permitted but absolutely correct.

"MRS. GRUNDY"

Of course every one has his own portrait of Mrs. Grundy, and some idea of the personality she shows to him; but has any one ever tried to ferret out that disagreeable old woman's own position; to find out where she lives and why she has nothing to do but meddle in affairs which do not concern her. Is she a lady? One would imagine she is not. One would also imagine that she lives in a solid well-repaired square brown stone house with a cupola used as a conning tower and equipped with periscope and telescope and wireless. Furthermore, her house is situated on a bleak hill so that nothing impedes her view and that of her two pets, a magpie and a jackal. And the business in life of all three of them is to track down and destroy the good name of every woman who comes within range, especially if she is young and pretty—and unchaperoned!

The pretty young woman living alone, must literally follow Cinderella's habits. To be out of the house late at night or sitting up, except to study, are imprudences she can not allow herself. If she is a widow her conduct must be above criticism, but if she is young and pretty and divorced, she must literally live the life of a Puritan spinster of Salem. The magpie never leaves her window sill and the jackal sits on the doormat, and the news of her every going out and coming in, of every one whom she receives, when they come, how long they stay and at what hour they go, is spread broadcast.

No unprotected woman can do the least thing that is unconventional without having Mrs. Grundy shouting to everyone the worst possible things about her.

THE BACHELOR GIRL

The bachelor girl is usually a worker; she is generally either earning her living or studying to acquire the means of earning her living. Her days are therefore sure to be occupied, and the fact that she has little time for the gaiety of life, and that she is a worker, puts her in a somewhat less assailable position. She can on occasion go out alone with a man (not a married one), but the theater she goes to must be of conventional character, and if she dines in a restaurant it is imperative that a chaperon be in the party; and the same is true in going to supper at night. No one could very well criticize her for going to the opera or a concert with a man when neither her nor his behavior hints a lack of reserve.

But a girl whose personal dignity is unassailable is not apt to bring censure upon herself, even though the world judges by etiquette, which may often be a false measure. The young woman who wants really to be free from Mrs. Grundy's hold on her, must either live her own life, caring nothing for the world's opinion or the position it offers, or else be chaperoned.

THE BACHELOR HOST AND THE CHAPERON

Barring the one fact that a chaperon must be on hand before young or "single" women guests arrive, and that she may not leave until after those whom she has chaperoned have left, there is no difference whatsoever in an entertainment given at the house of a bachelor and one given by a hostess. A bachelor can give dinners or theater parties or yachting parties or house parties or any parties that a hostess can give.

It is unnecessary to say no lady may dine alone in a gentleman's rooms, or house; nor may she dine with a number of gentlemen (unless one of them is her husband, in which case she is scarcely "alone"). But it is perfectly correct for two or more ladies to dine at a gentleman's rooms if one of the ladies is elderly or the husband of one is present.

A bachelor entertaining in bachelor's quarters, meaning that he has only a man servant, must be much more punctilious, and must arrange to have the chaperon bring any young woman guests with her, since no young girls could be seen entering bachelor's quarters alone, and have their "good name" survive. If he has a large establishment, including women servants, and if furthermore he is a man whose own reputation is unblemished, the chaperon may be met at his house. But since it is more prudent for young women to arrive under her care, why run the unnecessary risk of meeting Mrs. Grundy's jackal on the doorstep?

At the house of a bachelor such as described above, the chaperon could be a husbandless young married woman, or in other words, the most careless chaperon possible, without ever giving Mrs. Grundy's magpie cause for ruffling a feather. But no young woman could dine or have tea, no matter how well chaperoned, in the "rooms" of a man of morally bad reputation without running a very unpleasant risk of censure.

A BACHELOR'S HOUSE PARTIES

Bachelors frequently have house parties at their country places. A married lady whose husband is with her is always the chaperon unless the host's mother or sister may be staying—or living—in his house.

There is always something unusually alluring about a bachelor's entertaining. Especially his house parties. Where do all bachelors get those nice and so very respectable elderly maid servants? They can't all have been their nurses! And a bachelor's house has a something about it that is very comfortable but entirely different from a lady's house, though it would be difficult to define wherein the difference lies. He is perhaps more attentive than a hostess, at least he meets his guests at the station if they come by train, or, if they motor to his house, he goes out on the front steps to greet them as they drive up.