The Question of Presents.
A line must be carefully drawn between the gifts of an unconfessed lover and of a fiancé. The former may send flowers, bon-bons, and pretty trifles of that sort, or he could give her a dog or a Persian kitten; but he must not offer her articles of jewellery or any item of her toilette. He might give her the undressed skin of an animal that he had shot, but he could not order a set of furs to be sent to her from a shop. It must be remembered that ostensibly they are as yet only friends, and though every gift will have its inward meaning, it should not have any outward significance.
In offering a present the unconfessed lover will do well to enclose a little note [footnote in original: For those who wish to study the art of letter-writing there is a most excellent guide to all sorts of correspondence, entitled, "How Shall I Word It?" published at one shilling by C. Arthur Pearson (Limited).] couched in some such terms as these:
"Dear Miss Grayson,--You said the other day that you could not grow lilies of the valley in your garden, so I am venturing to send you the accompanying basket, which I hope you will be kind enough to accept.--Believe me, sincerely yours, Duncan Talbot."
Exchange of Hospitality.
Where both families are acquainted, and in a similar social position, the interchange of hospitality will probably be somewhat increased in virtue of the growing intimacy between the possible lovers. Until there is an acknowledged engagement it would not be etiquette for his family to single her out from the rest of her own people by inviting her alone. A parent, {[27]} brother, or sister ought to be included. It would also be diplomatic on the part of her friends not to extend too gushing a welcome to him, while they take his belongings as a matter of course. Because the one family can give dinner parties it does not follow that the other should not afford just as much enjoyment by a simpler form of hospitality. The possible lover does not come to criticise the cuisine of the household in which the object of his desires is to be seen.
The Man Who Lives at Home.
It will often happen that a man makes acquaintances who become friends quite independently of his own family. But if he is seriously contemplating matrimony he will be anxious to introduce his chosen one to his womenkind. Supposing that his people were the older residents in the place, he would pave the way by saying that his mother, or sister, as the case might be, would so much like to call, and might she do so? Unless there should be some purely feminine feud the permission would be cordially given. If, on the other hand, the girl's family were the first comers to the locality he would then ask the lady to call on his people, intimating that they were longing to know her and her daughter, and what a personal gratification it would be to him to bring the desired meeting about. In the present day the old hard and fast rules which used to regulate calling are no longer observed. If acquaintance is really sought there will be no difficulty for a woman of tact and judgment to cultivate it.
A Danger.
Women are very quick to see when they are being courted for their sons or brothers, and they do not always like it. It is discourteous, and very transparent, to send an invitation to a girl the day after her brother has come home on leave in which you hope "that Captain Boyle will be able to accompany her," when practically you have ignored her existence since the last time he was at home. It is not kind or considerate to try and monopolise the society of any man whose {[28]}business or profession only permits of his being at home at long intervals. A girl may want to have him with her very much indeed, but she should not be piqued and feel injured if he excuses himself on the ground of having to take his sister out, or spend his evening with his parents. He will be all the better husband for this courtesy to his own relations. Of course his people may be very dull, possibly unpleasant, and in that case real friendship will be a labour, if not an impossibility; but, for the man's sake, they must be treated in such a way as not to hurt either his feelings or their own. The same, naturally, holds good with regard to her belongings.