Etiquette · Emily Post
The parlor-maid keeps the drawing-room and library in order. The useful man brings up the wood for the fireplaces, but the parlor-maid lays the fire. In some houses the parlor-maid takes up the breakfast trays; in other houses, the butler does this himself and then hands them to the lady's maid, who takes them into the bedrooms. The windows and the brasses are cleaned by the useful man and heavy furniture moved by him so she can clean behind them.
The parlor-maid assists the butler in waiting at table, and washing dishes, and takes turns with him in answering the door and the telephone.
In huge houses like the Worldlys' and the Gildings', the footmen assist the butler in the dining-room and at the door--and there is always a "pantry maid" who washes dishes and cleans the pantry.
The housemaid does all the chamber work, cleans all silver on dressing-tables, polishes fixtures in the bathroom--in other words takes care of the bedroom floors.
In a bigger house, the head housemaid has charge of the linen and does the bedrooms of the lady and gentleman of the house and a few of the spare rooms. The second housemaid does the nurseries, extra spare rooms, and the servants' floor. The bigger the establishment, the more housemaids, and the work is further divided. The housemaid is by many people called the chambermaid.
In all houses of importance and fashion, the parlor-maid and the housemaids, and the waitress (where there is no butler), are all dressed alike. Their "work" dresses are of plain cambric and in whatever the "house color" may be, with large white aprons with high bibs, and Eton collars, but no cuffs (as they must be able to unbutton their sleeves and turn them up.) Those who serve in the dining-room must always dress before lunch, and the afternoon dresses vary according to the taste--and purse--of the lady of the house. Where no uniforms are supplied, each maid is supposed to furnish herself with a plain black dress for afternoon, on which she wears collars and cuffs of embroidered muslin usually (always supplied her), and a small afternoon apron, with or without shoulder straps, and with or without a cap.
In very "beautifully done" houses (all the dresses of the maids are furnished them), the color of the uniforms is chosen to harmonize with the dining-room. At the Gildings', Jr., for instance, where there are no men servants because Mr. Gilding does not like them, but where the house is as perfect as a picture on the stage, the waitress and parlor-maid wear in the blue and yellow dining-room, dresses of Nattier blue taffeta with aprons and collars and cuffs of plain hemstitched cream-colored organdie, that is as transparent as possible; blue stockings and patent leather slippers with silver buckles, their hair always beautifully smooth. Sometimes they wear caps and sometimes not, depending upon the waitress' appearance. Twenty years ago, every maid in a lady's house wore a cap except the personal maid, who wore (and still does) a velvet bow, or nothing. But when every little slattern in every sloppy household had a small mat of whitish Swiss pinned somewhere on an untidy head, and was decked out in as many yards of embroidery ruffling on her apron and shoulders as her person could carry, fashionable ladies began taking caps and trimmings off, and exacting instead that clothes be good in cut and hair be neatly arranged.
A few ladies of great taste dress their maids according to individual becomingness; some faces look well under a cap, others look the contrary. A maid whose hair is rather fluffy--especially if it is dark--looks pretty in a cap, particularly of the coronet variety. No one looks well in a doily laid flat, but fluffy fair hair with a small mat tilted up against a knot of hair dressed high can look very smart. A young woman whose hair is straight and rebellious to order, can be made to look tidy and even attractive in a headdress that encircles the whole head. A good one for this purpose has a very narrow ruche from 9 to 18 inches long on either side of a long black velvet ribbon. The ruche goes part way, or all the way, around the head, and the velvet ribbon ties, with streamers hanging down the back. On the other hand, many extremely pretty young women with hair worn flat do not look well in caps of any description--except "Dutch" ones which are, in most houses, too suggestive of fancy dress. If no caps are worn the hair must be faultlessly smooth and neat; and of course where two or more maids are seen together, they must be alike. It would not do to have one wear a cap and the other not.
A first class lady's maid is required to be a hairdresser, a good packer and an expert needlewoman. Her first duty is to keep her lady's clothes in order and to help her dress, and undress. She draws the bath, lays out underclothes, always brushes her lady's hair and usually dresses it, and gets out the dress to be worn, as well as the stockings, shoes, hat, veil, gloves, wrist bag, parasol, or whatever accessories go with the dress in question.
As soon as the lady is dressed, everything that has been worn is taken to the sewing room and each article is gone over, carefully brushed if of woolen material, cleaned if silk. Everything that is mussed is pressed, everything that can be suspected of not being immaculate is washed or cleaned with cleaning fluid, and when in perfect order is replaced where it belongs in the closet. Underclothes as mended are put in the clothes hamper. Stockings are looked over for rips or small holes, and the maid usually washes very fine stockings herself, also lace collars or small pieces of lace trimming.
Some maids have to wait up at night, no matter how late, until their ladies return; but as many, if not more, are never asked to wait longer than a certain hour.
But the maid for a débutante in the height of the season, between the inevitable "go fetching" at this place and that, and mending of party dresses danced to ribbons and soiled by partner's hands on the back, and slippers "walked on" until there is quite as much black part as satin or metal, has no sinecure.
Why Two Maids?
In very important houses where mother and daughters go out a great deal there are usually two maids, one for the mother and one for the daughters. But even in moderate households it is seldom practical for a débutante and her mother to share a maid--at least during the height of the season. That a maid who has to go out night after night for weeks and even months on end, and sit in the dressing-rooms at balls until four and five and even six in the morning, is then allowed to go to bed and to sleep until luncheon is merely humane. And it can easily be seen that it is more likely that she will need the help of a seamstress to refurbish dance-frocks, than that she will have any time to devote to her young lady's mother--who in "mid-season," therefore, is forced to have a maid of her own, ridiculous as it sounds, that two maids for two ladies should be necessary! Sometimes this is overcome by engaging an especial maid "by the evening" to go to parties and wait, and bring the débutante home again. And the maid at home can then be "maid for two."
Dress of a Lady's Maid
A lady's maid wears a black skirt, a laundered white waist, and a small white apron, the band of which buttons in the back.
In traveling, a lady's maid always wears a small black silk apron and some maids wear black taffeta ones always. In the afternoon, she puts on a black waist with white collar and cuffs. Mrs. Gilding, Jr., puts her maid in black taffeta with embroidered collar and cuffs. For "company occasions," when she waits in the dressing-room, she wears light gray taffeta with a very small embroidered mull apron with a narrow black velvet waist-ribbon, and collar and cuffs of mull to match--which is extremely pretty, but also extremely extravagant.
The valet (pronounced val-et not vallay) is what Beau Brummel called a gentleman's gentleman. His duties are exactly the same as those of the lady's maid--except that he does not sew! He keeps his employer's clothes in perfect order, brushes, cleans and presses everything as soon as it has been worn--even if only for a few moments. He lays out the clothes to be put on, puts away everything that is a personal belonging. Some gentlemen like their valet to help them dress; run the bath, shave them and hold each article in readiness as it is to be put on. But most gentlemen merely like their clothes "laid out" for them, which means that trousers have belts or braces attached, shirts have cuff links and studs; and waistcoat buttons are put in.
The valet also unpacks the bags of any gentleman guests when they come, valets them while there, and packs them when they go. He always packs for his own gentleman, buys tickets, looks after the luggage, and makes himself generally useful as a personal attendant, whether at home or when traveling.
At big dinners, he is required (much against his will) to serve as a footman--in a footman's, not a butler's, livery.
The valet wears no livery except on such occasions. His "uniform" is an ordinary business suit, dark and inconspicuous in color, with a black tie.
In a bachelor's quarters a valet is often general factotum; not only valeting but performing the services of cook, butler, and even housemaid.
Everybody knows the nurse is either the comfort or the torment of the house. Everyone also knows innumerable young mothers who put up with inexcusable crankiness from a crotchety middle-aged woman because she was "so wonderful" to the baby. And here let it be emphasized that such an one usually turns out to have been not wonderful to the baby at all. That she does not actually abuse a helpless infant is merely granting that she is not a "monster."
Devotion must always be unselfish; the nurse who is really "wonderful" to the baby is pretty sure to be a person who is kind generally. In ninety-nine cases out of a hundred the sooner a domineering nurse--old or young--is got rid of, the better. It has been the experience of many a mother whose life had been made perfectly miserable through her belief that if she dismissed the tyrant the baby would suffer, that in the end--there is always an end!--the baby was quite as relieved as the rest of the family when the "right sort" of a kindly and humane person took the tyrant's place.
It is unnecessary to add that one can not be too particular in asking for a nurse's reference and in never failing to get a personal one from the lady she is leaving. Not only is it necessary to have a sweet-tempered, competent and clean person, but her moral character is of utmost importance, since she is to be the constant and inseparable companion of the children whose whole lives are influenced by her example, especially where busy parents give only a small portion of time to their children.
In a dignified house, a servant is never spoken to as Jim, Maisie, or Katie, but always as James or Margaret or Katherine, and a butler is called by his last name, nearly always. The Worldly's butler, for instance, is called Hastings, not John. In England, a lady's maid is also called by her last name, and the cook, if married, is addressed as Mrs. and the nurse is always called "Nurse." A chef is usually called "Chef" or else by his last name.
Always abroad, and every really well-bred lady or gentleman here, says "please" in asking that something be brought her or him. "Please get me the book I left on the table in my room!" Or "Please give me some bread!" Or "Some bread, please." Or one can say equally politely and omit the please, "I'd like some toast," but it is usual and instinctive to every lady or gentleman to add "please."
In refusing a dish at the table, one must say "No, thank you," or "No, thanks," or else one shakes one's head. A head can be shaken politely or rudely. To be courteously polite, and yet keep one's walls up is a thing every thoroughbred person knows how to do--and a thing that everyone who is trying to become such must learn to do.
A rule can't be given because there isn't any. As said in another chapter, a well-bred person always lives within the walls of his personal reserve, a vulgarian has no walls--or at least none that do not collapse at the slightest touch. But those who think they appear superior by being rude to others whom fortune has placed below them, might as well, did they but know it, shout their own unexalted origin to the world at large, since by no other method could it be more widely published.
The fact that you live in a house with two servants, or in an apartment with only one, need not imply that your house lacks charm or even distinction, or that it is not completely the home of a lady or gentleman. But, as explained in the chapter on Dinners, if you have limited service you must devise systematic economy of time and labor or you will have disastrous consequences.
Every person, after all, has only one pair of hands, and a day has only so many hours, and one thing is inevitable, which young housekeepers are apt to forget, a few can not do the work of many, and do it in the same way. It is all very well if the housemaid can not get into young Mrs. Gilding's room until lunch time, nor does it matter if its confusion looks like the aftermath of a cyclone. The housemaid has nothing to do the rest of the day but put that one room and bath in order. But in young Mrs. Gaily's small house where the housemaid is also the waitress, who is supposed to be "dressed" for lunch, it does not have to be pointed out that she can not sweep, dust, tidy up rooms, wash out bathtubs, polish fixtures, and at the same time be dressed in afternoon clothes. If Mrs. Gaily is out for lunch, it is true the chambermaid-waitress need not be dressed to wait on table, but her thoughtless young mistress would not be amiable if a visitor were to ring the door-bell in the early afternoon and have it opened by a maid in a rumpled "working" dress.
Supposing the time to put the bedroom in order is from ten to eleven each morning: it is absolutely necessary that Mrs. Gaily take her bath before ten so that even if she is not otherwise "dressed" she can be out of her bedroom and bath at ten o'clock promptly. She can go elsewhere while her room is done up and then come back and finish dressing later. In this case she must herself "tidy" any disorder that she makes in dressing; put away her négligé and slippers and put back anything out of place. On the days when Mr. Gaily does not go to the office he too must get up and out so that the house can be put in order.
But where one maid alone cooks, cleans, waits on table, and furthermore serves as lady's maid and valet, she must necessarily be limited in the performance of each of these duties in direct proportion to their number. Even though she be eagerly willing, quality must give way before quantity produced with the same equipment, or if quality is necessary then quantity must give way. In the house of a fashionable gay couple like the Lovejoys' for instance, the time spent in "maiding" or "valeting" has to be taken from cleaning or cooking. Besides cleaning and cooking, the one maid in their small apartment can press out Mrs. Lovejoy's dresses and do a little mending, but she can not sit down and spend one or two hours going over a dress in the way a specialist maid can. Either Mrs. Lovejoy herself must do the sewing or the housework, or one or the other must be left undone.
It is certainly a greater pleasure and incentive to work for those who are appreciative than for those who continually find fault. Everyone who did war work can not fail to remember how easy it was to work for, or with, some people, and how impossible to get anything done for others. And just as the "heads" of work-rooms or "wards" or "canteens" were either stimulating or dispiriting, so must they and their types also be to those who serve in their households.
This, perhaps, explains why some people are always having a "servant problem"; finding servants difficult to get, more difficult to keep, and most difficult to get efficient work from. It is a question whether the "servant problem" is not more often a mistress problem. It must be! Because, if you notice, those who have woes and complaints are invariably the same, just as others who never have any trouble are also the same. It does not depend on the size of the house; the Lovejoys never have any trouble, and yet their one maid of all work has a far from "easy" place, and a vacancy at Brookmeadows is always sought after, even though the Oldnames spend ten months of the year in the country. Neither is there any friction at the Golden Hall or Great Estates, even though the latter house is run by the butler--an almost inevitable cause of trouble. These houses represent a difference in range of from one alone, to nearly forty on the household payroll.
It might be well for those who have trouble to remember a few rules which are often overlooked: Justice must be the foundation upon which every tranquil house is constructed. Work must be as evenly divided as possible; one servant should not be allowed liberties not accorded to all.
It is not just to be too lenient, any more than it is just to be unreasonably strict. To allow impertinence or sloppy work is inexcusable, but it is equally inexcusable to show causeless irritability or to be overbearing or rude. And there is no greater example of injustice than to reprimand those about you because you happen to be in a bad humor, and at another time overlook offenses that are greater because you are in an amiable mood.
There is also no excuse for "correcting" either a servant or a child before people.
[Illustration: "THE PERFECT MISTRESS SHOWS ALL THOSE IN HER EMPLOY THE CONSIDERATION AND TRUST DUE THEM AS HONORABLE SELF-RESPECTING AND CONSCIENTIOUS HUMAN BEINGS." [Page 157.]]
And when you do correct, do not forget to make allowances, if there be any reason why allowance should be made.
If you live in a palace like Golden Hall, or any completely equipped house of important size, you overlook nothing! There is no more excuse for delinquency than there is in the Army. If anything happens, such as illness of one servant, there is another to take his (or her) place. A huge household is a machine and it is the business of the engineers--in other words, the secretary, housekeeper, chef or butler, to keep it going perfectly.
But in a little house, it may not be fair to say "Selma, the silver is dirty!" when there is a hot-air furnace and you have had company to every meal, and you have perhaps sent her on errands between times, and she has literally not had a moment. If you don't know whether she has had time or not, you could give her the benefit of the doubt and say (trustfully, not haughtily) "You have not had time to clean the silver, have you?" This--in case she has really been unable to clean it--points out just as well the fact that it is not shining, but is not a criticism. Carelessness, on the other hand, when you know she has had plenty of time, should never be overlooked.
Another type that has "difficulties" is the distrustful--sometimes actually suspicious--person who locks everything tight and treats all those with whom she comes in contact as though they were meddlesomely curious at least, or at worst, dishonest. It is impossible to overstate the misfortune of this temperament. The servant who is "watched" for fear she "won't work," listened to for fear she may be gossiping, suspected of wanting to take a liberty of some sort, or of doing something else she shouldn't do, is psychologically encouraged, almost driven, to do these very things.
The perfect mistress expects perfect service, but it never occurs to her that perfect service will not be voluntarily and gladly given. She, on her part, shows all of those in her employ the consideration and trust due them as honorable, self-respecting and conscientious human beings. If she has reason to think they are not all this, a lady does not keep them in her house.
The well-trained high-class servant is faultlessly neat in appearance, reticent in manner, speaks in a low voice, walks and moves quickly but silently, and is unfailingly courteous and respectful. She (or he) always knocks on a door, even of the library or sitting-room, but opens it without waiting to hear "Come in," as knocking on a downstairs door is merely politeness. At a bedroom door she would wait for permission to enter. In answering a bell, she asks "Did you ring, sir?" or if especially well-mannered she asks "Did Madam ring?"
A servant always answers "Yes, Madam," or "Very good, sir," never "Yes," "No," "All right," or "Sure."
Young people in the house are called "Miss Alice" or "Mr. Ollie," possibly "Mr. Oliver," but they are generally called by their familiar names with the prefix of Miss or Mister. Younger children are called Miss Kittie and Master Fred, but never by the nurse, who calls them by their first names until they are grown--sometimes always.
All cards and small packages are presented on a tray.
No doubt in the far-off districts there are occasional young women who work long and hard and for little compensation, but at least in all cities, servants have their definite time out. Furthermore, they are allowed in humanely run houses to have "times in" when they can be at home to friends who come to see them. In every well-appointed house of size there is a sitting-room which is furnished with comfortable chairs and sofa if possible, a good droplight to read by, often books, and always magazines (sent out as soon as read by the family). In other words, they have an inviting room to use as their own exactly as though they were living at home. If no room is available, the kitchen has a cover put on the table, a droplight, and a few restful chairs are provided.
Are maids allowed to receive men friends? Certainly they are! Whoever in remote ages thought it was better to forbid "followers" the house, and have Mary and Selma slip out of doors to meet them in the dark, had very distorted notions to say the least. And any lady who knows so little of human nature as to make the same rule for her maids to-day is acting in ignorant blindness of her own duties to those who are not only in her employ but also under her protection.
A pretty young woman whose men friends come in occasionally and play cards with the others, or dance to a small and not loud phonograph in the kitchen, is merely being treated humanly. Because she wears a uniform makes her no less a young girl, with a young girl's love of amusement, which if not properly provided for her "at home" will be sought for in sinister places.
This responsibility is one that many ladies who are occupied with charitable and good works elsewhere often overlook under their own roof. It does not mean that the kitchen should be a scene of perpetual revelry and mirth that can by any chance disturb the quiet of the neighborhood or even the family. Unseemly noise is checked at once, much as it would be if young people in the drawing-room became disturbing. Continuous company is not suitable either, and those who abuse privileges naturally must have them curtailed, but the really high-class servant who does not appreciate kindness and requite it with considerate and proper behavior is rare.
For a wedding, or a ball, and sometimes for teas and big dinners, there is an awning from curb to front door. But usually, especially in good weather, a dinner or other moderate sized evening entertainment is prepared for by stretching a carpet (a red one invariably!) down the front steps and across the pavement to the curb's edge. At all important functions there is a chauffeur (or a caterer's man) on the sidewalk to open the door of motors, and a footman or waitress stationed inside the door of the house to open it on one's approach. This same servant, or more often another stationed in the hall beyond, directs arriving guests to the dressing-rooms.
Houses especially built for entertaining, have two small rooms on the ground floor, each with its lavatory, and off of it, a rack for the hanging of coats and wraps. In most houses, however, guests have to go up-stairs where two bedrooms are set aside, one as a ladies', and the other as a gentlemen's coat room.
At an afternoon tea in houses where dressing-rooms have not been installed by the architect, the end of the hall, if it is wide, is sometimes supplied with a coat rack (which may be rented from a caterer) for the gentlemen. Ladies are in this case supposed to go into the drawing-room as they are, or go up-stairs to the bedroom put at their disposal and in charge of a lady's maid or housemaid.
If the entertainment is very large, checks are always given to avoid confusion in the dressing-rooms exactly as in public "check rooms." In the ladies' dressing-room--whether downstairs or up--there must be an array of toilet necessities such as brushes and combs; well-placed mirrors, hairpins, powder with stacks of individual cotton balls, or a roll of cotton in a receptacle from which it may be pulled. In the lavatory there must be fresh soap and plenty of small hand towels. The lady's personal maid and one or two assistants if necessary, depending upon the size of the party, but one and all of them as neatly dressed as possible, assist ladies off and on with their wraps, and give them coat checks.
A lady's maid should always look the arriving guests over--not boldly nor too apparently, but with a quick glance for anything that may be amiss. If the drapery of a dress is caught up on its trimming, or a fastening undone, it is her duty to say: "Excuse me, madam (or miss), but there is a hook undone"--or "the drapery of your gown is caught--shall I fix it?" Which she does as quietly and quickly as possible. If there is a rip of any sort, she says: "I think there is a thread loose, I'll just tack it. It will only be a moment."
The well-bred maid instinctively makes little of a guest's accident, and is as considerate as the hostess herself. Employees instinctively adopt the attitude of their employer.
In the gentlemen's coat room of a perfectly appointed house the valet's attitude is much the same. If a gentleman's coat should have met with any accident, the valet says: "Let me have it fixed for you, sir, it'll only take a moment!" And he divests the gentleman of his coat and takes it to a maid and asks her please to take a stitch in it. Meanwhile he goes back to his duties in the dressing-room until he is sure the coat is finished, when he gets it and politely helps the owner into it.
In a small country house where dressing-room space is limited, the quaint tables copied from old ones are very useful, screened off at the back of the downstairs hall, or in a very small lavatory. They look, when shut, like an ordinary table, but when the top is lifted a mirror, the height of the table's width, swings forward and a series of small compartments and trays both deep and shallow are laid out on either side. The trays of course are kept filled with hairpins, pins and powder, and the compartments have sunburn lotion and liquid powder, brush, comb and whiskbroom, and whatever else the hostess thinks will be useful.
The butler's duty is to stand near the entrance to the reception or drawing-room, and as each guest arrives (unless they are known to him) he asks: "What name, please?" He then leads the way into the room where the hostess is receiving, and says distinctly: "Mr. and Mrs. Jones." If Mrs. Jones is considerably in advance of her husband, he says: "Mrs. Jones!" then waits for Mr. Jones to approach before announcing: "Mr. Jones!"
At a very large party such as a ball, or a very big tea or musical, he does not leave his place, but stands just outside the drawing-room, and the hostess stands just within, and as the guests pass through the door, he announces each one's name.
It is said to be customary in certain places to have waitresses announce people. But in New York guests are never announced if there are no men servants. At a very large function such as a ball or tea, a hostess who has no butler at home, always employs one for the occasion. If, for instance, she is giving a ball for her daughter, and all the sons and daughters of her own acquaintance are invited, the chances are that not half or even a quarter of her guests are known to her by sight, so that their announcement is not a mere matter of form but of necessity.
When the butler on entering the room to announce dinner, happens to catch the attention of the hostess, he merely bows. Otherwise he approaches within speaking distance and says, "Dinner is served." He never says, "Dinner is ready."
At a large dinner where it is quite a promenade to circle the table in search of one's name, the butler stands just within the dining-room and either reads from a list or says from memory "right" or "left" as the case may be, to each gentleman and lady on approaching. In a few of the smartest houses a leaf has been taken from the practise of royalty and a table plan arranged in the front hall, which is shown to each gentleman at the moment when he takes the envelope enclosing the name of his partner at dinner. This table plan is merely a diagram made in leather with white name cards that slip into spaces corresponding to the seats at the table. On this a gentleman can see exactly where he sits and between whom; so that if he does not know the lady who is to be on his left as well as the one he is to "take in," he has plenty of time before going to the table to ask his host to present him.
At the end of the evening, the butler is always at the front door--and by that time, unless the party is very large, he should have remembered their names, if he is a perfect butler, and as Mr. and Mrs. Jones appear he opens the door and calls down to the chauffeur "Mr. Jones' car!" And in the same way "Mr. Smith's car!" "Miss Gilding's car!" When a car is at the door, the chauffeur runs up the steps and says to the butler: "Miss Gilding's car" or "Mrs. Jones' car." The butler then announces to either Mr. or Mrs. Jones, "Your car, sir," or "Your car, madam," and holds the door open for her to go out, or he may say, "Your car, Miss," if the Gilding car comes first.
Supper at a ball in a great house (big enough for a ball) is usually in charge of the butler, who by "supper time" is free from his duties of "announcing" and is able to look after the dining-room service. The sit-down supper at a ball is served exactly like a dinner--or a wedding breakfast; and the buffet supper of a dance is like the buffet of a wedding reception.
At a large tea where the butler is on duty "announcing" at the same time that other guests are going into the dining-room for refreshments, the dining-room service has to be handed over to the first footman and his assistants or a capable waitress is equally able to meet the situation. She should have at least two maids with her, as they have to pour all cups of tea and bouillon and chocolate as well as to take away used cups and plates and see that the food on the table is replenished.
At a small tea where ladies perform the office of pouring, one man or maid in the dining-room is plenty, to bring in more hot water or fresh cups, or whatever the table hostesses have need of.
Many, and very fastidious, people, who live in big houses and entertain constantly, have neither men servants nor employ a caterer, ever. Efficient women take men's places equally well, though two services are omitted. Women never (in New York at least) announce guests or open the doors of motors. But there is no difference whatsoever in the details of the pantry, dining-room, hall or dressing-room, whether the services are performed by men or women. (No women, of course, are ever on duty in the gentlemen's dressing-rooms.)
At an evening party, the door is opened by the waitress, assisted by the parlor-maid who directs the way to the dressing-rooms. The guests, when they are ready to go in the drawing-room, approach the hostess unannounced. A guest who may not be known by sight does not wait for her hostess to recognize her but says at once, "How do you do, Mrs. Eminent, I'm Mrs. Joseph Blank"; or a young girl says, "I am Constance Style" (not "Miss Style," unless she is beyond the "twenties"); or a married woman merely announces herself as "Mrs. Town." She does not add her husband's name as it is taken for granted that the gentleman following her is Mr. Town.
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End of part 8 of 32
Continue readingChapter 13: Teas and Other Afternoon Parties
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