The poor Markiss was so horryfied at his brillyant sucksess, that
Charles’s sanguinery corpse aunted his bed-side, and he died within
a month, a leetle munth, as _Amlet_ says, of the dredful ewent, and
Charles married his Widder. But, orful to relate, within a werry short
time Charles was a sorrowin’ Widderer, with a nincum of sum £10,000 a
year; and having purchased a Itallien titel for a hundred and fifty
pound, it is said as he intends shortly to return to hold Hingland;
and as the lovely Countess of Belgravier is fortnetly becum a Widder,
and a yung one, it is thought quite posserbel, by them as is behind the
seens, like myself, for instance, that before many more munce is past
and gone, there will be one lovely Widder and one andsum Widderer less
than there is now; and we is all on us ankshushly looking forred to the
day wen the gallant Count der Wennis shall lead his lovely Bride to the
halter of St. George’s, Hannower Squeer, thus proving the truth of the
Poet’s fabel,--
“The rank is but the guinny’s stamp,
The Footman’s the man for a’ that.”
* * * * *
AWKWARD.--_Miss Fillip_ (_to Young Gentleman, who has taken her in to
dinner at Olympia Manor_). “You say that you don’t shoot, hunt, fish,
drive, or ride, and that you hate cycling. Now, what on earth are you
staying here for?”
_Young Gentleman_ (_languidly_). “Because I can’t afford to live
anywhere else in the winter.”
[_Then it flashes across Miss F. that she is talking
to a younger son of the house._
* * * * *
[Illustration: FORM!
“Good Heavens! What a swell! What is it? Tea fight? Wedding breakfast?”
“Oh no; only going to my tailor’s. _Must_ be decently dressed when I go
to see _him_. He’s so beastly critical!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: EN PASSANT
_He._ “That’s that ass, Bounderson, isn’t it? He should have been
drowned as a _puppy_!”
_She._ “There’s time enough _yet_, isn’t there?”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Fair Girl_ (_on sofa, to her neighbour during New
Year’s Eve Festivity_). “How delightful it must be for you, Mrs.
Featherstone, to hear all the dear Professor’s lectures!”
_Mrs. Featherstone._ “Oh, _I_ never hear his lectures. But _he_’ll have
to hear one of _mine_ to-night!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A TERRIBLE VENGEANCE
“Well, Mr. Softley, did you revenge yourself on Algy since that quarrel
you had with him?”
“Yes, indeed. I ordered my man to be wude to his man when he meets
him.”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Little Timkins_ (_to gorgeous chappie_). “Excuse me,
old boy, but _who_ are you in _mourning_ for?”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: REFLECTED GLORY
_Shopman._ “Here! Hi! Are you his Grace the Duke of Bayswater?”
_Magnificent Flunkey._ “I ham!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A REASON FOR CALLING
_Visitor_ (_naïvely_). “Well, I certainly never dreamt I should find
you at home on such a lovely afternoon as this!”]
* * * * *
FOR CHARITY’S SAKE
SCENE--_The Park._ TIME--_The Fashionable Morning Hour._ LUI
_and_ ELLE _discovered enjoying a_ causerie.
_Elle._ Oh, it will be quite gay! Admission five guineas and ten pounds
a seat at the tea-tables. The Organising Committee have rented the
Anthropological Gardens.
_Lui._ Any kind of entertainment?
_Elle._ Oh, yes. We have got Mr. Barnstormer for a recitation and
Di Flop for one of her great songs with a chorus for nothing, and
Scrapini, the violinist, is to bring his violin.
_Lui._ Also for nothing?
_Elle._ Of course. Such an excellent advertisement for them. And then
there are to be lamps on the artificial lake and fireworks--small ones
that won’t frighten the horses outside--on the terrace. Two guineas
a seat for places in front of the fireworks, and five shillings
entrance-fee to the avenue of Japanese lanterns.
_Lui._ Well, you ought to rake in the shekels. And what is it for?
What’s the name of the Charity?
_Elle._ I quite forget. But you will find it on the tickets.
[_The talk drifts to other topics._
* * * * *
UNLUCKY SPEECHES
“What a lot of people there were at the Wortleburys’ last week--and yet
how dull it was!”
“Yes, dear. But it was much brighter after you left.”
* * * * *
_She._ “Oh, Mr. Sorney, I am so grateful to you for your thoughtfulness
in writing so promptly to tell me of poor Harry’s accident!”
_He._ “Pray don’t mention it--I was very glad indeed to have the
opportunity of doing it!”
* * * * *
_Host._ “You’ll have a nice drive home!”
_Guest._ “Yes; that’s the best of it!”
* * * * *
[Illustration: Horrible position of little Biffin, who proposes a new
round game. But when he has to explain, he finds he cannot recollect
anything at all about it!]
* * * * *
[Illustration: RATHER DIFFICULT FOR HIM
_Jones._ “I am never at a loss in conversation.”
_His Fair Hostess._ “But surely, Mr. Jones, there must be _some_
subjects you don’t understand. What do you do then?”
_Jones._ “Oh, _then_--I say nothing, and look intelligent.”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: INGRATITUDE
_Nervous Youth_ (_to charming girl, who has been trying to set him at
his ease_). “He, he! I always--ha--feel rather shy with pretty girls,
y’know, but I’m _quite_ at home with you!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: “Oh, Miss Brown, I was _so_ sorry I didn’t see you when
you called the other day. I had such a dreadful headache that I had to
tell my maid I was not at home to any of my friends. But of course I
should have seen _you_!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The New Footman_ (_stentoriously_). “Mrs. Montgomery
Jenkins’s carriage!”
_Mrs. Montgomery Jenkins._ “A--tell the coachman to wait.”
_New Footman._ “Please, ma’am, he says he can’t. He says he’s got
another job at twenty minnits past eleven!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: “I’ve just left Mr. Brayne, and it’s quite a relief to
meet _you_. He is _so_ intellectual, you know!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: ANCIENT HISTORY
_The Frumps_ (_who rather fancy themselves in this style_). “It’s
called the Early Victorian bonnet.”
_Guileless Youth_ (_under the impression that he is paying a graceful
compliment_). “Oh yes. I suppose you wore them when you were _quite_
girls.”]
* * * * *
SOME EMOTIONS BUT NO MORAL
_Lady Angleby_ (_mother of pretty débutante_). Really! It’s positively
painful. It ought to be stopped.
_Elderly Countess_ (_with no daughters_). Eh, what? Tooth hurtin’? Have
it out, my dear. Or try mind healin’. It’s very expensive, but Susan
Southwater tells me----
_Lady A._ Oh, Susan! She’s always got some bee in her bonnet. Though
how any self-respecting bee _could_! But I wasn’t talking about teeth.
It’s this wretched paper. Listen to this. “One of the prettiest
_débutantes_ I saw was Miss Nora Angleby, whose mother, Lady Angleby,
was wearing nothing but a string of pearls----”
_E. C._ Have ’em up for libel, my dear. I wouldn’t stand it.
_Lady A._ “--nothing but a string of pearls with her white frock, and
looking so delightfully young. Everyone was saying that they might be
sisters.” Isn’t it too silly?
_E. C._ H’m! I dunno. You do look youngish sometimes. As for the
frock--don’t you think it was a _leetle_ too--for the part, you know?
_Lady A._ Oh, did you think so? It’s the way they are cutting them this
year for girls. But don’t you think they ought to be pulled up?
_E. C._ The frocks, my dear, or the dressmakers, or the girls?
_Lady A._ No, no, the editors. I’m in this wretched rag week after week.
_Mrs. Thrope (also mother of pretty débutante)._ So am I. It’s a
perfect scandal.
_Lady A._ Are you? I don’t _see_ your name anywhere.
_Mrs. T._ If you look--isn’t there an account of the Hersham House Ball?
_Lady A._ Oh, yes, here you are. “Mrs. Thrope, who goes everywhere, was
in great good looks and her well-known magenta frock.” You’ll have to
get a new one, darling, after that. “She was chaperoning her daughter,
Miss Anne Thrope, another _débutante_, who was quite the beauty of
the----” Well, really! What can it matter to anyone whether Anne’s a
beauty or not, poor darling!
_Mrs. T._ She did look rather sweet, didn’t she?
_Lady A._ What? Oh, ah, yes. Quite pretty, I thought. But to have it
put in print like that for any Dick, Tom, or Harry to read! It does
away with all the privacy of life.
_E. C._ Who _does_ read it--besides you two?
_Mrs. T._ Who? The suburbs, of course. Susan tells me the circulation
in Bayswater is perfectly enormous. Of course _I_ only get it to read
_her_ things.
_Lady A._ So do I. Not that they are worth reading. They always seem to
me to be so _banale_.
_Mrs. T._ Yes, aren’t they? And so absolutely without point.
_E. C._ What makes ’em print ’em, then?
_Lady A._ Oh, money, of course. Her money. It’s the root of all her
idylls. She’d pay anything they asked to get them published.
_E. C._ H’m! Did she tell you so?
_Lady A._ My dear, of course not. But I happen to--oh, do listen to
this. I do think they might draw the line somewhere. It wouldn’t be
so bad if they would keep it select. But really! _That_ woman!
_E. C._ Well, who is it?
_Lady A._ Mrs. Judesheim! A whole paragraph about her and her diamonds.
_Her_ diamonds!
_Mrs. T._ Not the Bridge woman?
_Lady A._ Positively, my dear, though one would have thought after that
last little _exposé_----
_Mrs. T._ Well, really! I wonder who they’ll put in next!
_E. C._ Anyone, my dear Edith--anyone who’ll pay. That’s the way it’s
done. Susan wants to dispose of her articles, and, accordin’ to you,
she pays, and in they go. Mrs. Whatshername has got daughters and she
wants to dispose of _them_. So, she pays, and in _they_ go. Quite
simple, ain’t it?
_Lady A._ Oh, but I’m _sure_ you are wrong.
_Mrs. T._ I don’t think you _can_ be right. We haven’t come to _that_
yet.
_E. C._ _You_ haven’t, my dear, of course. You buy the paper because
you--have to read Susan’s articles. Never do myself. Hate readin’
articles, specially by people I know. But that’s just the difference
between you two and this Judesheim woman. She _likes_ to see her name
in print. And then, her husband’s a business man, and she knows the
value of a good advertisement.
_Lady A._ I _can’t_ believe it.
_E. C._ Well, we’ll ask Susan when she comes. She knows all about it.
She ought to be--ah, here she is. How do, my dear?
_Lady Susan Southwater_ (_enters hurriedly_). You dear people. I _am_
so ashamed. I simply _had_ to finish my article for next week, and it
wouldn’t come.
_Lady A._ We were just talking about your articles. I particularly
liked that last one in to-day’s paper.
_Mrs. T._ So did I. But I think--no, I don’t like it quite as well as
the one _last_ week. That was too delightful. So witty.
_Lady S._ Glad you liked it. Well, are we going to cut for partners?
_E. C._ In a minute. But we want to ask you about this old rag of
yours. Do people pay to have their names in it?
_Lady S._ Tradespeople? _They_ do, of course.
_E. C._ No, no. Ordinary people like us.
_Lady S._ Oh, well--but what makes you ask?
_Lady A._ Well, the fact is, Edith and I don’t like the way they _will_
put our names in, and we were just saying that; and then to read a
paragraph about that Mrs. Judesheim actually, and the whole thing
seemed so vulgar, and we were wondering whether anyone really did pay.
_Lady S._ Oh, but my dear, of course they do, though only the Editor
knows who. But if you like I’ll talk to him about you two, and say that
you would prefer not to have your names----
_Lady A._ Oh, please no, it _really_ isn’t worth it. No, as far as I am
concerned personally----
_Mrs. T._ It seems to me it would be a pity to make a fuss about it.
After all, it doesn’t do one any harm. So please don’t trouble, darling.
_Lady S._ My dear, it’s no trouble. I shall be seeing him this evening,
anyhow. So I’ll just tell him----
_Lady A._ I beg that you will do nothing of the kind. I particularly
dislike asking favours from people of that class. Don’t you think we
might begin our rubber?
_Lady S._ Perhaps that _would_ be the best solution. Unless you like to
pay him _not_ to put your names in. You might do that, you know--for a
change.
_Lady A._ You don’t mean to imply----
_Lady S._ My dear, not for worlds! Some do, and some don’t. But of
_course_ you and Edith----
_E. C._ Don’t! Let’s cut.
[_They cut for partners in silence._
* * * * *
[Illustration: HAVING A GOOD TIME
_Mamma._ “It’s very late, Emily. Has anybody taken you down to supper?”
_Fair Débutante_ (_who has a fine healthy appetite_). “Oh yes,
mamma--several people!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Hostess._ “I’ve got _such_ a cold to-day. I feel quite
_stupid_!”
_Prize Idiot_ (_calling_). “I’ve got a bad cold too; but _I_ don’t feel
particularly stupid!”
_Hostess._ “Ah, I see you’re not quite yourself!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: “FLATTERING UNCTION”
_Mrs. Noovoriche._ “Yes, my dears, I gave a hundred guineas for this
gown! Pretty figure, isn’t it?”--_Chorus_ (_after due inspection_).
“Simply awful!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Fitz-Noodle_ (_who rather fancies himself as the “Black
Prince”_). “By Jove, Miss Renneslaer, how awfully charming!”
_Fair American._ “My! What _are_ you? _Canned Lobster?_”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE HEIGHT OF MAGNIFICENCE [_See p. 151_]
THE HEIGHT OF MAGNIFICENCE--_Sir Gorgius Midas_. “Hullo! where’s all
the rest of yer gone to?”
_Head Footman._ “If you please, Sir Gorgius, as it was past two
o’clock, and we didn’t know for certain whether you was coming back
here, or going to sleep in the City, the hother footmen thought they
might go to bed----”
_Sir Gorgius._ “‘Thought they might go to bed,’ did they? A pretty
state of things, indeed! So that if I’d a’ ’appened to brought ’ome a
friend, there’d a’ only been you four to let us hin, hay!”
* * * * *
[Illustration: AT A LADIES’ CLUB
_Guest_ (_who rather fancies himself as a fascinator_). “But although
you are all known as men-haters, aren’t there now and again occasions
when you find it _very_ hard to live up to your reputation?”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: KINDLY MEANT
_Young Noodle._ “Oh, do have another sandwich, Miss Swan. You have such
a long way to eat--I mean such a long way to go!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Little Titmuss_ (_just told off to take the younger
Miss Long in to supper, quite forgets which of the two is the
younger_). “Er--er--may I have the pleasure--er--of--er--taking the
longer Miss Young--I mean-the lunger Miss Yong--that is----”
[_Becomes incoherent._]
* * * * *
THE GREAT KNEE-BREECHES QUESTION
(_A Young Blood, in trouble about his legs, soliloquises before his
pier-glass_)
Well now, this _is_ a doosid nuisance, what?… S’pose I’ve got to
face the question, now that all the rest of our set have made up
their minds.… _Hate_ havin’ to make up my mind! It’s rotten, simply
_rotten_--I don’t mean my mind, but havin’ to worry over things like
this--I never was so dreadfully worried, except perhaps over the shape
of that tie last season, what?… Why can’t they put it off a little
while longer? But no, they’re all goin’ to wear them next Friday at
that supper at the Carlton, and Stella Pardedew’s comin’ too--wish
I hadn’t asked her, she _can_ be so cuttin’, when she likes …
I’m sure, if I’ve measured myself once, I’ve measured myself fifty
times, and I can’t make ’em more than ten and three-eighths round
the calf.… I know she’ll ask whether it’s three calves or one,
when she sees me comin’ along … rotten joke, too!… Here, let me
try once more--where’s that tape?… No, I don’t seem to spring to
ten and a-half inches, anyhow, and I walked the whole length of Bond
Street this afternoon, what?… They don’t look so bad in gaiters and
ridin’-breeches, or under a motor-coat, and when I’m golfin’, too,
I can double the thick top ends of my stockin’s down and make quite
a decent show, but these silk things, what!… They’ll be sayin’
somethin’ about advertisements for Anti-fat--that rotter Bertie will,
_I_ know, just because his are fifteen inches round.…
* * * * *
DE GUSTIBUS NON DISPUTANDUM.--_Adonis_ (_after his guests have
departed_). “By Jove, Maria, what a handsome woman Mrs. Jones is! She
looks better than ever!”
_His Wife._ “Ahem! Well, it may be my bad taste, but I own I have
hitherto failed to detect the beauty of Mrs. Jones. Now, _Mr._ Jones is
good-looking, if you like!”
_Adonis._ “_Jones good-looking!_ Come--hang it, Maria, Jones is a very
good fellow, and all that; but I must say I’ve never perceived his
_good looks_!” &c., &c.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Hostess._ “I thought you were going to play ‘Bridge’!”
_Host._ “So we are, but they are playing ‘ping-pong’ in the
dining-room, and ‘fires’ in the billiard-room, Jack’s trying to
imitate Dan Leno in the drawing-room, and Dick’s got that infernal
gramophone of his going in the hall, and they are laying supper in the
smoking-room, so _we’re_ going to the nursery!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THE WORST OF HAVING “A DAY”
_Edith._ “Here come those dreadful bores, the Brondesbury-Browns! How
_tactless_ of them, to come and see us on the only day in the week
we’re _at home_!”]
* * * * *
THE LATEST CRAZE
SCENE--_A salon anywhere._ TIME--_Afternoon tea. Hostess
addressing her guests._
_Hostess._ Yes, I think this is so much more amusing than “Books,”
and “Songs.” One gets so tired of a lady with toy banners in her hair
calling herself “Under Two Flags,” and a man insisting that he is
perfectly made up for “The Absent-Minded Beggar” when he wears a label
of--“Quite blind. Give me a penny,” and keeps his eyes open.
_First Lady Friend._ Certainly. Well, do you think my “Curiosity” was
good? An old boot belonging to my great grandfather.
_Hostess._ Perfectly delightful. So nice to have a great grandfather,
and one who wore boots.
_Second Lady Friend._ Well, my “Curiosity” is not quite so personal.
This is an old work-box that has been in our family for the last
hundred years.
_Chorus._ How interesting!
_Second Lady Friend._ And it was bought, so I have been told, at the
Exhibition of 1851.
_Professor Grumbles_ (_interposing_). Dear lady, I fancy you have made
a mistake in your dates. Now, if the box was in your family a century,
and it came from the Exhibition of 1851, it must----
_Hostess_ (_interposing_). Oh, my dear Professor, pray don’t worry us
with statistics. Now, what have _you_ got?
_Professor Grumbles_ (_producing a bag_). Well dear lady, my little
contribution to the general hilarity of the occasion will be caused by
my friend in the bag. It is a specimen--a very rare specimen--of the
South African puff-adder. Most doctors will tell you that the sting
of this reptile is dangerous. (_He produces from the bag a black,
vicious-looking snake._) In fact, most people will say that the sting,
or rather a bite, is certain death. But be reassured, my good friends.
In spite of this universal belief, I may say that, without expressing
an absolutely definite opinion, _I don’t think so_!
[_“Curiosity” tea disperses rapidly and in some
confusion._
* * * * *
[Illustration: CONFUSION WORSE CONFOUNDED
_Jones._ “Con-found it all! Somebody’s taken _my_ hat, and left this
filthy, beastly, shabby old thing instead!”
_Brown._ “A--I beg your pardon, but _that_ happens to be _MY_ hat!”]
* * * * *
THE LADIES’ COLUMN
ABOUT TOWN.
Several ladies have chosen this week for taking walks. As I was popping
down Bond Street a few days ago I nearly ran into sweet Lady B., who
was dressed in the softest brown, with a dear little robin redbreast
perched lovingly in her _toque_, which was a veritable _dernier cri_.
There is a beautiful story in connection with the little dickey, as
Lady B. believes that it is the same little feathered darling she used
to feed with crumbs on her window-sill last winter! It is such a joy to
her tender heart to feel that her little pensioner will now never be
parted from his benefactress--while the _toque_ lasts.
A few minutes later, while I was returning the Countess of A.’s bow,
I caught my foot in the _marabout_ of one of our most unconventional
and witty American visitors, who is, by the way, the heroine of the
following delightful little story. While staying at a country house,
not a hundred miles from a certain little white village with red
roofs, the house party was taken to a local flower show. At dinner that
evening, charming Miss X., who was a member of the party, was asked by
her partner if she took an interest in gardening. “I guess I’m only
interested in strawberry leaves!” was the witty answer.
* * * * *
[Illustration: OFFENDED DIGNITY
_Small Swell_ (_who has just finished a quadrille_). “H’m, thank
goodness, that’s over! Don’t give me your bread and butter misses to
dance with. I like your grown women of the world!”--(_N.B._ _The bread
and butter miss has asked him how old he was, and when he went back to
school._)]
* * * * *
[Illustration: QUITE ANOTHER THING
“You _must_ remember her. I introduced you at my ‘At Home.’”
“You introduced me to so _many_ people, how can I remember?”
“But she was wearing----” (_Describes the costume minutely._)
“Oh, was _that_ she? Of _course_ I remember _her_ perfectly!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: THOUGHT TRANSFERENCE
_Hostess._ “Good night, General! So kind of me to have asked you.”
_Guest._ “Not at all. So kind of me to have come!”]
* * * * *
BOOKS TO MATCH ALL DRESSES.
All lovers of literature will be delighted to hear that Miss Cumberland
Smith’s latest work, “Chained by Circumstance,” is to be issued in
tooled green leather to match the dainty little belts which are being
shown this week by Mr. Peter Jay. This book would look particularly
well with a white satin Liberty _robe_, a stole of Indian work, and the
hair _coiffured_ in the _mode retroussé_, which is now, we are glad to
see, once more with us.
Another little gem for book lovers is certainly Lady M.’s wonderfully
realistic “Revelations of Revolt,” bound in crimson and black. No
brunette should be without it. To go with this beautiful volume we
should strongly recommend a simple Empire costume of crimson _panne_,
with deep frills of accordion-pleated white chiffon, edged with black
_ruching_, with sprays of crimson chrysanthemums falling to the feet.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Algy_ (_suddenly taking the change out of his pocket
and examining it)_. “I say, old man, what do you think? I gave our
cabby a sovereign and a sixpence for bringing us here from the club!”
_Freddie._ “My dear f’lla, you’re always overdoin’ it. A sovereign
would have been ample!”]
* * * * *
MAKING CONVERSATION.--_He._ “I suppose you have been everywhere during
the season?”
_She._ “No season. Nothing to read. Nothing to see.”
_He._ “Then there is nothing to talk about?”
_She._ “No, nothing. Can’t you suggest a novelty?”
_He_ (_brightening up_). “Yes--the weather.”
[_Left talking._
* * * * *
A FORLORN HOPE.--_The Dowager._ “Now, you’ve got all the girls off your
hands so successfully, except poor Maria, you ought to give _her_ a
chance.”
_My Lord._ “Yes--a--give a ball--a--or a garden party--a----”
_My Lady._ “Oh, poor Maria’s not worth a ball--nor even a garden
party. We might give an _afternoon tea_!”
* * * * *
[Illustration: “I say, Nell, the Dad says that he remembers that old
boy when he hadn’t a shirt to his back, and now he has thousands.”
“Good gracious, how extravagant! And how hot!!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: COUNTRY-HOUSE PETS [_See p. 171_]
COUNTRY-HOUSE PETS (_The morning-room at Glen-Dimity Castle, after
lunch. Mr. Belamy Tabby is singing “Hi tiddley hi ti, hi, ti,
hi!”_).--_The Duchess._ “How clever and amusin’ your friend, Mr.
Whatshisname is!--_Tabby_, isn’t it! So good-lookin’ and gentlemanlike
too! Quite a godsend on a rainy day like this, when all the men are out
shootin’ or fishin’, or something! Is he married?”
_Noble Hostess._ “Oh yes; but what’s so nice about him, he doesn’t mind
bein’ asked without his wife. Those sort of persons so often expect
their wives to be asked too, and that’s such a bore, you know!”
_Her Grace._ “Yes; how sensible of him! I must get him to come to us at
Brasenose Towers!”
* * * * *
AN UNSELFISH MAN.--_Colonel Slyboots, M.P._ “So sorry to leave you all
alone at Mudboro’, my love; but duty will compel me to be at my post at
Westminster for the Autumn Session, you know. So dull in town without
you, too.”
_Mrs. S._ “Poor dear! Then I’ll accompany you, my angel!”
_Colonel S._ “Oh, on no account. Wouldn’t hear of it!”
* * * * *
SOCIETY SMALL TALK.--“On the young lady’s exclaiming ‘How well these
rooms are lighted!’ the young man might reply, ‘Yes, by the light of
Beauty’s eyes, and you are lending your share, which is not a small
one, to the general illumination, the brilliancy of which is almost too
dazzling to a poor mortal like myself, to whom it is well that moments
such as these are brief, else the reaction would be destructive to my
peace of mind, if not altogether fatal to it.’”
_Young Peter Piper has got his lesson well by heart, and is only
waiting, to begin, for the lovely Miss Rippington to exclaim_, “How
well these rooms are lighted!” _which, unfortunately for him, they are_
NOT.
* * * * *
HONOURS DIVIDED.--_Mr. Goodchild._ “Yes, I do feel in good spirits this
evening. My boy has passed his examination!”
_The Earl._ “Well, I don’t see anything in that. So has mine.”
_Mr. Goodchild._ “Er--Indian Civil?”
_The Earl._ “No--Bankruptcy!”
* * * * *
[Illustration: _The Rev. Lazarus Jones_ (_who has been honoured by
an invitation to lunch with that great man, Sir Gorgius Midas, just
returned from America_). “I suppose you are glad to get back to your
comfortable house again, Sir Gorgius?”
_Sir Gorgius Midas_ (_who perhaps does not like his palatial residence
to be called a “comfortable house”_). “Yes, Jones! Be it ever so
_’umble_, Jones, there’s no place like _’ome_!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: MRS. BOREHAM AT HOME [_See p. 175_]
MRS. BOREHAM AT HOME (_Amateur Theatricals_).--_Sir Pompey Bedell._
“Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs. Boreham, on a most successful
entertainment! I have never set foot inside a theatre myself, I am
proud to say, nor attended even _private_ theatricals before--such
things are not in my line! But I can honestly assure you that I
have rarely seen histrionic ability more consummate, or a dramatic
performance more exceptionally complete in every respect, than that
which it has been our truly enviable privilege to witness this evening!”
* * * * *
AN AMENDMENT.--_Vera._ “What must I do about the Billsomes’ dance? I
dislike the Billsomes, and I don’t want to go.”
_Phillis._ “Well, say you regret you are unable.”
_Vera._ “Wouldn’t it be more truthful to say I am unable to regret?”
* * * * *
IT’S AN EAST WIND THAT BLOWS NOBODY GOOD.--“Here comes the carriage,
Maud! Fancy having to go and pay calls in such weather! It’s enough to
give one one’s death of cold!”
“Worse than that, mother! Everybody’s sure to be _in_!”
* * * * *
ONE WAY OF FASTING.--_Miss Kate_ (_to Mr. Joskin_). “You don’t know how
glad I am that Lent has begun.”
_Mr. Joskin._ “Why?”
_Miss Kate._ “Because there are no more stupid dinner-parties and
balls. We only go to theatres and restaurants now.”
* * * * *
NOT THE WORD.--_Young Lady_ (_in the drawing room_). “Just listen! I
can hear the gentlemen laughing. I believe they tell all their good
stories directly we’re out of the dining-room.”
_Experienced and rather severe Matron._ “_Good_ stories, dear!
No--‘good’ is not the word.”
* * * * *
AN EYE FOR ESSENTIALS.--_Mamma_ (_house-hunting for the Season_). “It’s
a good house for a dance, Emily!”
_Emily._ “The rooms are rather small, aren’t they?”
_Mamma_ (_who knows how matches are made_). “Yes; but what a capital
_staircase_!”
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Snookson._ “Yes; Hastings is a charming place, and has
quite a peculiar--a--and half-melancholy _interest_ for me. We came
over with the _Conqueror_, you know!”
_Fair Bostonian_ (_late from Paris_). “Ah, that must have been very
trying! _We_ came over with the _Calais-Douvres_.”
[_S. tries not to look foolish._]
* * * * *
[Illustration: ANNALS OF A RETIRED SUBURB
Mrs. Boultby Smith and her daughters have been “at home” to their
London friends every Wednesday afternoon for the last seven years. Last
Wednesday some visitors actually came!]
* * * * *
[Illustration: ANNALS OF A QUIET NEIGHBOURHOOD
Mrs. De Vere Tomlinson at home. Puzzles. Small and early.]
* * * * *
[Illustration: PRIG-STICKING [_See p. 181_]
PRIG-STICKING.--_Little Prigson._ “Oh! as for Grigson, he’s distinctly
the most objectionable little prig in all England; but his sistah’s
_quite_ the nicest girl I ever met.”
_Aunt Eliza._ “Dear me! What sweeping assertions! You _might_ have
had the decency just to make the traditional exception in favour of
_present company_!”
_Cousin Maud._ “Yes; in _both_ cases, you know!”
* * * * *
SOME DISTINCTIONS AND A DIFFERENCE.--_Hostess has just been showing
Guest the picture gallery and other glories of the ancient Baronial
Halls, at the same time discoursing of the family greatness. Guest_
(_pointing to row of busts_). “And are these celebrities or just
relations?”
* * * * *
LIMITED.--_She_. “Yes; that stupid man who came with the Smiths trod on
the duchess’s train, and it tore right across, and the dear old thing
never said a word. Wasn’t it _sweet_ of her?”
_He._ “Well, there was only one word she _could_ have said!”
* * * * *
FIVE O’CLOCK TEA-CLASSES
CONVERSATIONAL TEAS twice a week OFFERED by a Lady of high
social position at her home to strangers, Americans, Colonials
and foreigners, for whom pleasant introductions are desirable;
private interviews given to ladies who desire coaching on
matters of high English etiquette and fashion.--_Advertisement
in morning paper._
This seems to be a new variation. We all know the blameless A.B.C.
tea patronised by country cousins after a hard day’s work shopping or
matinéeing in town.
There is the institution known as a “high tea” (why _high_?) for those
whose indigestion is robust enough to negotiate six o’clock beef and
tannin from the pot.
A year or two ago we were deluged with “book teas” and “play teas,” or
“song teas,” and other nursery devices for educating the middle-aged
and teaching the old idea how to make wild shots at far-fetched rebuses.
For dipsomaniacs there is, we regret to say, the D. T.; and the strict
Q. T. for persons of a secretive turn of mind.
And now a lady of high social position is in the market with bi-weekly
“Conversational Teas.” Is the accent on the conversation or the tea, we
would ask? Are there any gratuities expected? Is anything given away
with a pot of tea? Do you bring your own mug? Does the lady-autocrat
at the tea-table give marks for good behaviour? Does she “turn” you
if you have failed to learn your small-talk correctly? Do you get a
diploma (or a degree) at the end of the course if you pass the cake
with honours? And is the “colonial” who comes out at the bottom of
the tea-class rewarded with a wooden spoon? All these, and many other
questions, present themselves to would-be students of “high English
etiquette.”
* * * * *
GUESSES AT TRUTH.--_Mr. Laidislaw._ “Handsome woman our hostess--don’t
you think? By the bye, what do you suppose her age is?”
_Miss St. Cyr._ “Well, I should fancy, what the illustrated
biographies call ‘Present Day!’”
* * * * *
[Illustration: SOCIAL SUCCESSES
_Mrs. Ponsonby de Tomkyns at Home--Small and Early._
_Brown_ (_who is fighting his way in--to Friendly Party, who holds out
his hand_). “Ah, how d’y’do, Mr.--er--I seem to know your _face_. Often
met you here before, I fancy, hav’n’t I?”
_Friendly Party._ “Very likely. My name’s Ponsonby de Tomkyns!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: A TERRIBLE TURK
_Little Spinks._ “Ah! once I was as innocent as a little child! What I
am _now_, your sex has made me!”]
* * * * *
“L’INVITATION À LA VALSE.”--_She._ “But you don’t know my name! What
have you put down on your cuff?”
_He._ “Oh, I’ve put down ‘Pearl Necklace.’”
_She._ “But there are lots of pearl necklaces here!”
_He._ “Yes; but I’ve also put down ‘Small and rather tight’--I mean the
_necklace_, you know!”
* * * * *
THE OLD ORDER CHANGETH.--_Todeson_ (_who has grown his moustache,
dropped his G’s, and got into Society again_). “Fact is Society’s
gettin’ much too mixed, Duchess. It’s not amusin’, after spendin’ a
pleasant evenin’, to find you’ve been hobnobbin’ with a shopkeeper, or
sittin’ next his wife at dinner, you know!”
_Her Grace._ “Oh, dear me! Why, my _husband’s_ a shopkeeper, Mr.
Todeson. He keeps that great bric-à-brac warehouse in Conduit
Street!--and the toy-shop at the corner, that’s mine!--and the
confectioner over the way, that’s my mother, the Duchess of Hautcastel!”
[_Todeson feels he has been puttin’ his foot in it._
* * * * *
[Illustration: _De Smythe._ “She was the ugliest woman I ever
met--er--er--present company excepted, of course!”]
* * * * *
OF THE WORLD WORLDLY.--“There go the Spicer Wilcoxes, mamma! I’m told
they’re dying to know us. Hadn’t we better call?”
“Certainly not, dear. If they’re dying to know us, they’re not worth
knowing. The only people worth _our_ knowing are the people who _don’t_
want to know us!”
* * * * *
BREAKING THE ICE.--_He._ “I’ve got to take you in to dinner, Miss
Travers--and I’m rather afraid of you, you know! Mrs. Jollibois tells
me you’re very clever!”
_She_ (_highly amused_). “How absurd! I’m not a _bit_ clever!”
_He_ (_with sigh of relief_). “Well, do you know, I _thought_ you
weren’t!”
* * * * *
A SUBTLE DISTINCTION.--_Jones_ (_who is of an inquiring mind_). “Ain’t
you getting _tired_ of hearing people say, ‘That is the beautiful Miss
Bellsize!’?”
_Miss Bellsize_ (_a professional beauty_). “Oh, no. I’m getting tired
of hearing people say, ‘Is _that_ the beautiful Miss Bellsize?’”
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Hostess_ (_to guests, who have come to spend a few
days_). “We’re so glad you’ve been able to come, Mrs. Gushington; but I
do hope we are going to have rather better weather, or I am afraid you
won’t enjoy yourselves much.”--_Mrs. Gushington._ “Oh, but, my _dear_
Lady Boreham, we didn’t come here to _enjoy_ ourselves. We came to see
_you_!”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Fubsby._ “A--everybody’s getting too clever nowadays.
I assure you, _my_ chief object in society is to conceal my ignorance,
and prevent people from finding out what an abject fool I really am!”
_Miss Towers._ “And do you succeed?”]
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Hostess._ “Why, Mr. Smith, I’ve hardly seen you all the
evening! Now I particularly want you to come and hear a whistling solo
by my husband.”
_Smith_ (_whose hearing is a trifle indistinct_). “A whisky and soda
with your husband? Well, thanks, I don’t mind if I do have just one!”]
* * * * *
AN EQUIVOCAL COMPLIMENT.--“I’m so glad to meet _you_ here, Captain
Spinks--and _so_ glad you’re going to take me in to dinner.” (_Captain
S. is delighted._) “You’re about the only man in the room my husband
isn’t likely to be jealous of!”
[_Captain Spinks’s delight is no longer unmixed._
* * * * *
[Illustration]
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE