She.—If I were "not at home" on these occasions, we should have very little opportunity to talk about the subjects in which we are mutually interested. It is decidedly paradoxical, is it not, to be at home under the circumstances?
He.—It is, to say the least, decidedly pleasant; for, otherwise, how should you be able to teach me that delightful art—the Art of Conversation? I am just selfish enough to exult in my being the only diplomat at your "salons."
She.—What is that line about conversation's being like an orchestra where all the instruments should bear a part, but where none should play together?
He.—To my thinking, conversation is most delightful when it is most unlike an orchestra. For my part, I prefer those charming duos where the sweet voice of the soprano rises "far above the organ's swell."
She.—Conversation is more often like an orchestra where all the instruments play together, and where no particular one can be heard. I see that a conversation in which many take part is not to your liking.
He.—As in music, so with my friends, I prefer to follow the individual; to come into harmony with his thoughts and feelings. The trite saying that corporations have no souls can be applied with equal propriety to a body of individuals at a social function, where the bored look on their faces shows that they have failed to find a subject of general interest, and are in consequence suffering in durance vile.
She.—Conversation is enjoyable only when the participants are equally interested in the subject under discussion; and while it is not difficult for two persons to find topics of mutual interest, it is not so easy for several individuals to "hit upon" some topic in which all are equally interested; consequently, there is much greater opportunity for enjoyment in social converse where only two are "gathered together."
He.—Yes, I know; no matter how apparently dry a subject is to me, it might be of keen interest to some one else.
She.—Certainly. Only a few evenings since, I noticed, at a social function, a lady and gentleman deeply engaged for a long time, in the discussion of some topic in which each was apparently vitally interested. I learned afterwards that the gentleman was the editor-in-chief of a new dictionary recently compiled, and that the lady was the teacher of English in a college. They were discussing the relative merits of the diacritical markings of the Century, Standard, and International dictionaries compared with those of "old Webster."
He.—I should call that an extremely dry subject.