ACCEPTANCES AND REGRETS
Responses to invitations usually take the form of “acceptances” or “regrets.” It is never correct, for example, to write the following sort of note:
DEAR MRS. CRONICK:
Your invitation for the 12th inst. received and in reply would
advise that I am not at the present time in a position to signify
whether or not I can accept. Could you at your convenience
furnish me with additional particulars re the proposed
affair—number of guests, character of refreshments, size of
orchestra, etc.? Awaiting an early reply, I am,
Yours truly,
ALFRED CASS NAPE.
If one wishes to attend the party, one “accepts” on a clean sheet of note-paper with black ink from a “fountain” pen or inkwell. A hostess should not, however, make the mistake of thinking that a large number of “acceptances” implies that anybody really wishes to attend her party.
The following is a standard form of acceptance:
Dr. Tanner accepts with pleasure the kind invitation of Mrs.
Frederick Cummings Bussey for Thursday evening, December twelfth,
at half after eight.
This note need not be signed. The following “acceptance” is decidedly demode:
DEAR MRS. ASTOR:
Will I be at your ball? Say, can a duck swim?
Count on me sure. FRED.
It is also incorrect and somewhat boorish to write “accepted” across the face of the invitation and return it signed to the hostess.
If one does not care to attend the party, one often sends one’s “regrets” although one just as often sends one’s “acceptances,” depending largely upon the social position of one’s hostess. The proper form of “regret” is generally as follows:
Alice Ben Bolt regrets that she will be unable to accept the kind
invitation of Major General and Mrs. Hannafield for Wednesday
evening at half after eight.
Sometimes it is better to explain in some manner the cause of the “regret,” as for example:
Alice Ben Bolt regrets that, owing to an ulcerated tooth in the
left side of her mouth, and severe neuralgic pains all up and
down her left side, she will be unable to accept the kind
invitation of Major General and Mrs. Hannafield for Wednesday
evening at half after eight, at “The Bananas.”
This is not, however, always necessary.
This is an admirable picture with which to test the “kiddies’” knowledge of good manners at a dinner table. It will also keep them occupied as a puzzle picture since the “faux pas” illustrated herewith will probably not be apparent to the little ones except after careful examination. If, however, they have been conscientiously trained it will not be long, before the brighter ones discover that the spoon has been incorrectly left standing in the cup, that the coffee is being served from the right instead of the left side, and that the lettering of the motto on the wall too nearly resembles the German style to be quite “au fait” in the home of any red-blooded American citizen.
Dessert has been reached and the gentleman in the picture is perspiring freely—in itself a deplorable breach of etiquette. He has been attempting all evening to engage the ladies on either side of him in conversation on babies, Camp’s Reducing Exercises, politics, Camp’s Developing Exercises, music or Charlie Chaplin, only to be rebuffed by a haughty chin on the one hand and a cold shoulder on the other. If he had taken the precaution to consult Stewart’s Lightning Calculator of Dinner Table Conversation (one of the many aids to social success to be found in PERFECT BEHAVIOR) he would have realized the bad taste characterizing his choice of topics and would not have made himself a marked figure at this well-appointed dinner table.