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!’”
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!”
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.
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?’”
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!”
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?”
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.
BRADBURY, AGNEW, & CO. LD., PRINTERS, LONDON AND TONBRIDGE